. mutant brain

[aisha van buren]

With one overfull lip caught between perfectly white teeth, Aisha Van Buren fussed with her iPhone 7, trying to get it to stand at the right angle as it was propped up on some books. A tripod would have made this task infinitely easier, but perhaps surprisingly she had not thought to pack a tripod for New Mexico, for once not anticipating many opportunities for impromptu photoshoots. Instead she was focused on spending time with her boyfriend, the scruffy, tattooed boy currently sat beside her on a couch in the living room of his recording studio. "There. Are you ready?" she asked, though she had hit record before he could say a word. Straight away a broad smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, and she waves to the audience-- names piling up thick and fast, heart emojis and kissing emojis and questions causing the comment section to go by in a blur. "Hey everybody, Aisha and Joe here," she said, gesturing dramatically to the man in question, every inch the magicians assistant. "As promised we're going to do a Q&A, and we figured we might as well go live. I've got a long list of questions here," she held up Joey's phone, open on a notes page, "some I've pulled, some Joe's pulled, and we're just going to rattle through as many as we can. Feel free to leave more in the comments too!"  "Ok..." she scrolls a manicured finger down the glossy screen, mulling over her options. One coaxes out a kittenish grin, and she glances at Joe before looking back at the camera. "Here's one for me. Aisha, is Joe the best you've ever had?" she laughs, a hand caressing Joe's cheek before she glances back. "Of course. Easy, next. One for Joe! Joseph McCarthy, would you say you're more often stoned or sober?" She gives the audience a knowing look, the smell of weed still faint on his clothes, clinging even to the Cat's Cradle t-shirt she wore when lounging around with him. "Another easy one. Here's one, asking how long we've been together. It's been a couple months since we got back together, but before that it was a year? Two? I'm counting it altogether, so two years and two months. Here, you pick some," she said, thrusting the phone into his hand.  ......................... tag: joseph mccarthy notes: so hard to write ngl. music: silence.

[joseph mccarthy]

Joe takes backseat as Aisha leads the audience. As photogenic and charismatic as he may be, he felt awkward in the moment. His grey eyes watch as her fat lips gab and her features brighten as if someone's turned on a 'happy' switch. He takes a moment to warm to the camera and fiddles with his clothing, turning a black cap from from front to back as well as rolling a sleeve. He gives a little wave to the camera, watching as names and comments race past. He laughs a little at the first question, leaning back as he does. "Ah, stoned probably. You don't have to piss as much and there's no hangover," the room reeks of pot too and a bong sits out of view. "Woah woah now, you can't combine two occasions. About three months,” he's mock offended. "Alright alright," he takes the phone from her hands and looks at the long list of questions, "Dan Snyder asks 'do you play Gibson because grunge is Fender and you're trying to avoid the stereotype'? No, I play Gibson because I like Gibson." he speaks dryly to the camera in a matter-of-fact way. "Next... Pervy Crookedvult asks Aisha, 'is Joe as good with his hands as he seems?'" his eyebrows raise and he looks at her. "She might not know this but I play Sunshine of your Love to make her cum, it works every time," he grins a little and looks back at the list. "'What equipment do you prefer?' I really like Orange.. they make great amps."

[aisha van buren]

If Aisha took a moment to evaluate herself, she would be all too aware of the jangle of nerves she felt at facing her critics. Because that is what she assumed every single person logging on to be-- despite all the glowing compliments she received daily, it was always the one nasty little troll that stood out, and god, they could be so personal. Messages flowed up the screen and she couldn't help but read snippets of them here and there, getting the slightest sense of relief when they were positive, though that too made her nervous. They would run out of good will quickly enough, of that she was certain. "You can. Two years and three months," she insists. He answers a question about guitars and she rolls her eyes dramatically. Impatient and keen to avoid too many boring questions, she leans back into his shoulder, nestling into him so she can see the phone in his hand. Just being there makes her a little less nervous. Opening her mouth to answer the question, her jaw drops as he answers it for her. She's speechless for a few seconds, her mossy green eyes going from him to the camera and back again, incredulous. "My dad might be watching this! Dad, please switch off," she implored, praying this wouldn't get back to him. "Ok, ok, enough nerd stuff, you can send him that directly," she said, snatching the phone from his hand and scrolling for something self indulgent. It doesn't take long. "Here, AmyAnders wants to know what your favorite thing about me is. Thanks Amy, I owe you one," she said, looking back at the phone for something she can answer. "And here's one for me. Aisha, what's something Joe doesn't know about you. Hmm..." she laughs as she thinks of something, pink threatening to tint her cheeks. "Ok, this is so embarrassing and he's going to be so smug about it, but I Shazam almost all his music. I sit and bitch when he's making me listen to vinyl but half my most played tracks are ones I stole from him."

[joseph mccarthy]

He continues to grin as she begs her dad not to watch, "sorry Mr. McCarthy.. also, I think this was one of the questions I wanted to clear up. We're not cousins, there are millions of McCarthy's and we're not related whatsoever." He double checks where her finger points to make sure she's truthful. "My favourite thing... there's not many, not many at all," he thinks, "kidding. Probably your sense of humor and how nonexistent it is, it's easy to rile you up... also your heart, you're the least judgmental of all the judgmental people I know." As he listens to her he pulls away from her contact, "I fucking knew it. A couple of weeks ago I was in the shower and I knew I heard motherfucking Talking Heads in the background." His hand falls on her thigh as he glances at the phone in her grip, looking for questions he picked out. "There's a question here asking if any of Cat's songs are about Aisha... in the past Isaac's written all of our songs, this one coming out has been a collaboration. I don't write love songs." He squints back at the phone,"Favourite non-physical and physical trait about each other... I've already answered a non-physical, phyical.. it's probably going to sound weird and crypty, but I really like your collarbone and your neck.. and your hips, the way your waist slopes to your ass. I'm probably gonna get accused of fat-shaming."

[aisha van buren]

"Joe is super triggered by the coincidence of my dad and him having the same last name," Aisha explained, again rolling her moss green eyes for the camera. He rattles off a series of not-really-complimentary compliments and she makes a concerted effort not to look at the comments, imagining how much people will relish this less than sentimental response to what was an obvious probe for compliments. She should have known he wouldn't take the bait. She's faintly irritated by his response but doesn't want to show it, seeing as that would confirm just how easily riled she was. "Just some!" she said defensively, "I do have good taste in my own right, even if I don't care about what guitar you play." His hand finds the bare skin of her thigh and instantly she forgives him all of his apparent transgressions. Melting under his touch, she leans back into his shoulder to share the phone again. "Isaac has probably written love songs about me," she said, knowing the comment would come back to haunt her in the form of his deranged fans but not caring. She laughs at his response. "He likes that I'm not fat, someone tell Buzzfeed what a misogynist he is! My favorite physical trait... it's got to be your hands," she said, lifting his free one and threading her fingers through his guitar string-calloused ones. "Non physical would be how gentle you are." She narrowed her eyes against the brightness of his phone, trying to read. "Okay, here - what's one thing you would change about each other if you could? I would change your mellowness, you're so unflappable. But then we'd probably fight all the time and it wouldn't work at all. Here's another, someone wants to know my favorite Cat's song... I honestly like all of them, but I'll always love your Friday I'm in Love cover most, it was the first I heard."

[joseph mccarthy]

He laughs at her comment about her dad and nods, "I really am. I had to pay someone to look at my family tree after I figured out your dad's lastname." He takes note of how she shys away when he not-so-compliments her, aware of how wishy-washy he seemed he kneads her thigh gently. "For those of you who do care..." he trails off and leans closer to the camera, "it's a 1956 custom ebony Les Paul and she's as gorgeous as she sounds." He glances at her a bit lovingly, "but for the record, Buzzfeed, there's not one bit of her I don't like." He winks at the camera at her mention of his hands, "Sunshine of your Love." He smiles a bit at her mention of how relaxed he tends to be and places their folded hands on his white denim lap, his thumb stroking her knuckles. "I'd probably change how materialist you can be. Folks, she has a problem and it's status and designer clothes... What was your first impression of each other," he reads off the scene. "Probably love at first sight. I dunno, she could have been a different person in the same body and she wouldn't have had it. She could have been the same person in a different body and I'd still have followed you around like a puppy dog. She carried herself really well and even when she called me Greg, it was cute. I thought she was tha bomb."

[aisha van buren]

She laughs at him winking to camera, her free hand first raising to her mouth before she hit him gently with it. "You've ruined that song for me, and probably everyone else," she said, the faintest hint of pink in her cheeks. It took a lot to embarrass a girl as shameless as Aisha. His do-over compliment soothes her and she settles in that little bit closer to him, inhaling his scent. Her thumb slips under the silver band on his wrist, entwining their hands further. She snorts at his next comment, gesturing at the well loved Cat's Cradle t-shirt. "Does this look designer to you?" she said, ignoring the obvious fact that she was wearing it over an Agent Provocateur set that cost more than most families spend on food in a month. She grins, embarrassed, at the camera as he speaks, not wanting or able to look him in the eye. "Mhmm. If I looked like Voldemort, he'd still have loved me guys, of course he would. My first impression was that he was a hot guy in a band, someone should have warned me about all the guitar talk that would involve... ah, an old favorite. Joe, are you going to propose?" She kept her voice impassive, though her eyes were on him now. It was a provocative question and she knew it was unfair to put him on the spot like this, but she couldn't help herself. "Guys, I'm only twenty-one. Why would he propose?"

[joseph mccarthy]

He shakes his head as she waves her hand at her shirt, "c'mon, Aisha. These are my people, they know how expensive and designer our merch is." His eyes look away from the camera and into the distance at a mini fridge full of beer. "Of course I would have, I'm not shallow," he returns his gaze to the camera, "and if Voldemort gave head half as good, it'd be worth it." Joe is taken back by the next question and looks down to stare at his hands, thinking of a way to approach the situation. "Well, as it goes," he turns up the charisma and smiles like a prize, "fool me once shame on you, fool me twice..." Lifts the phone from her and lets go of her grip, his thumb scrolling through the questions. "'If you could rock out with one dead rockstar, who would you choose?' Jesus, that's hard. Isn't that hard, Aisha? Because obviously I love Jimi, but I knew Chris personally and then there's Morisson... probably Jimi. Cause I'm a voodoo child... Lord knows I'm a voodoo child, " he sings the chorus and air guitars a little. "Hmm.. hmm hmm.. 'Where was our first date?' official... Ihop, I think. She thought I was scum. 'Who broke up with who?' It was mutual. 'Why did you break up?' It didn't seem like there was a future, obviously this has changed. 'Why does Isaac hate Aisha so much' You can answer that, pretty girl."

[aisha van buren]

I'm not shallow he says, the implication ringing clear as a bell: unlike you. Despite the fact she was objectively a supremely shallow and materialistic person, she resented being put on blast for it in front of a live audience. Then he speaks again and she drops his hand, hitting him. "Stop," she insisted, trying to sound serious despite the broad grin on her face, "I'm serious, any number of people in our families could be watching." She follows his eye line to the fridge. As he's mulling over how to reply, she momentarily disappears from the frame, untangling her long, toned legs to get up and fetch a couple beers. Still out of shot as he answers the proposal question, she looks at him with unfiltered shock, irritation written clearly across her features. She composes herself as she climbs back onto the sofa and hands him the opened bottle. "Very funny," she says, praying in vain that no one will pick up on that and run away with it. She watches him air guitar and it's painful to admit it but there's a twinge of affection there. "He chose IHOP to trigger me, honestly, he's not as nice as he pretends." She clinked his beer as he said things had changed, cheersing their future. Tanned shoulders shrug at the question. "I don't know. If I was gonna be glib I'd say he's jealous, but in reality I think he couldn't understand that our break up was mutual. He's very possessive of Joe." She took the phone from him, scanning through, answering without even reading the questions. "My favorite color is oxblood. No, we don't live together. We haven't discussed baby names because we're not having children. We live in LA. We met in New York. No, I couldn't live in New Mexico, I'd miss my family too much. Joe, do you ever have sex dreams about ex girlfriends?"

[joseph mccarthy]

He lifts his eyes to hers as she's out of view from the camera. He feels like he's a child being scolded and it annoys him that she'd be bothered by this answer, seeing as she's the one who put him on this pedestal. Aisha slightly redeems herself by bringing him what he needs, something to release some of the tension from being in the spotlight. "Thanks babe," he wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close to dab a kiss on her blonde hair, a gesture of PDA that he knows she'll relish. "Fuck you, I am," he responds to her proclaim of him not being nice, clinking his bottle with hers and taking a long sip of golden lager. "We're having about ten kids, actually. Haven't named them yet, thinking about 'J' names. No, no sex dreams about ex-girlfriends. Do you have sex dreams about Elliot? Or nightmares?" It's a slight dig at her popstar ex-boyfriend. He looks through the questions again, "'Joe, what do you think about the rumors concerning Aisha using you for fame?' Well, it's like she says. Her dad's a publicist, if she wanted to be famous she would be... Aisha, if there's one thing you could change about your relationship what would it be?"

[aisha van buren]

She settles into the crook of his arm, though she knows showing this much PDA will be divisive amongst viewers. Half felt a lack of it was a dead giveaway for a lack of any real affection between the two of them, and the other half felt any display to be too showy, put on. It annoyed her that she thought like this, that it mattered so much to her what others thought of her relationship. His words cause a black cloud of guilt to come over her, as well as a wave of nausea. She fiddles with the label on the bottle to avoid looking at him. "We're not though. It's my body," she says quietly, not wanting to have this conversation in front of thousands but unwilling to let it slide. "No, neither." Regret is creeping up on her now and she wonders why she ever agreed to this, suggested it even, it's much too raw and open to be saying all these things without the ability to edit. The next question stings and it pulls her mood down further. It takes her a moment to realize she's been asked a question, she's so busy wrapped up in thought. "Oh, um..." she stalls, shifting uncomfortably. "It's pretty good," she says lamely, only able to think of things that would be too personal to say. She takes a long sip of beer, straightening up and trying to get ahold of herself. What would a Youtuber say? Something lame, a cop out about leaving the toilet seat up. She hoped God would smite her down should she ever be so basic. "I'd take away your fame if I could. Just like that, no more accusations of using you, no more desperate groupies." That wouldn't go down well with his female fans but she didn't care. "Do we keep secrets from each other. I'm going with yes, everyone has secrets."

[joseph mccarthy]

She gets quiet and it concerns him for a moment. He looks at her with gentle eyes and picks up her hand, closing his around hers securely. He's unwilling to bring the argument into the public eye for both his sake and hers, wanting to keep his private life as is. "Nah, you wouldn't take away my fame. I'm hardly famous, Isaac is more famous than me. Without the success of the band I'd be doing something meaningless with my life. I don't know where the accusations of you using me come from, it's not as though you get anything out of dating a musician other than the odd serenade." He takes another sip of beer, tilting his head at her mention of keeping secrets, "I don't keep secrets from you, I'm an open book. What kind of secrets are you keeping? Have you been lying about liking my music more than Elliot's?" he jokes. He worries about the secrets she claims to be keeping, his stomach twisting as he thinks about worst-case scenarios. "... What's the best thing about our relationship? God, I think... chemistry. I don't think I've ever played off someone so well. Physically and mentally, we're a total match."

[aisha van buren]

His eyes find hers and it makes her forget that they're on camera, makes her want to crawl into his lap and stop answering stupid questions from irrelevant people. There's so much tenderness there and more than that, she's finally okay with that, finally feels complete acceptance of his affection and not the panic she was so used to. Then she remembers what made her feel guilty in the first place and it intensifies, forming a tight knot in her stomach that forces her to look away. "You're famous for the right reasons," she said, feeling guilty for contributing to the wrong ones. She gave his hand an imperceptible squeeze, noting the edge of concern in his joking reply but hoping that no one else would. Of course he didn't have secrets. "Oh yeah, I love autotune." She forces a laugh, stretching her legs out over his as she thought about how to reply. She knew she had to tell him, but knew that this wasn't the place-- she'd have to find a way of letting him know there was more without letting everyone else know too. "If I told you it wouldn't be a secret anymore, would it?" As he talks the guilt worsens, and with it her frustration. Why should she feel guilty? It was her body after all, and he said... there was no point trying to turn this on him, not now. She tried to focus on the questions at hand. His answer brings a genuine smile to her face, a wave of affection rushing over her so strongly that it almost washes away any bad feeling. She shifted closer to him, planting a soft kiss on his lips before she could think not to. "Like I said in that video we did before we got back together, how safe you make me feel. I've never been with someone who makes me feel so secure, I've never had it that I can not know where you are but trust you to be coming home to me as soon as you can." It was an uncomfortably vulnerable answer and she takes a long draft of beer, taking his phone at the same time. "Here, who said I love you first? I'll let you take that one."

[joseph mccarthy]

For as vulnerable as he was, his partner couldn't be farther from it. Joseph lived truthfully and with faith in himself, where there was a barrier that prevented Aisha from living this way. Though this wasn't uncommon for him to come across someone like this (he was probably the most honest person he knew), in this case it was concerning. He smiles a bit at her answer of autotune, and strokes her knuckles with his rough thumb. "Well, yea, that's the point," he forgets he's on camera for a minute, his hand dropping hers to fall to the back of her neck and give her a squeeze of comfort. Her lips are warm against his, he reacts with a smile and wraps his hand around her waist so she can't shimmy any further. "Loyal as a dog," he comments, taking a long swig and looking to the phone as she takes it. "I was. I always am. Aisha has a phobia about being too generous with her affection.. I'm really romantic, she's awkward with it," he looks at her for a reaction, "it's true. Don't fight it." His eyes catch another question, "Do I ever wear a shirt... sometimes. This is a rare moment, that's why this shirt is so white."

[aisha van buren]

If it weren't for the horrible secret she was keeping from him, this would have been a blissful moment. A perfect moment, even. The comfort of his arms around her, the sweetness that came from being together after what felt like forever apart, all wrapped up in the bow of this being something for the public to see, a side to their relationship that she hoped would confirm its legitimacy to their critics. But she couldn't help feeling like a fraud. Joe kept on in his romantic vein, worsening her feelings of disloyalty. But was it disloyal? Whatever it was, it felt wrong to be keeping it from him, even if she tried to tell herself it was her business and her's alone. "I'm just not a very affectionate person," she said, unable to look him in the eye now. "But if it helps, here: I love you." She glanced at the phone, watching as a flood of hearts flew up from the corner of the screen. It should have felt validating. A laugh spills from her lips at the question, and she lifts the bottom of his shirt up to display a glimpse of perfect abs, "would you cover this up if you had it? Criminal. Here," she scrolls across the screen, "what do you think of each others' parents. I love Joe's parents. I can't think of a way to say this that doesn't sound really condescending and rich girl-y, so Mr McCarthy, if you're watching, I'm sorry and I don't mean it like this, but they're so real. Just such a real American family. They have dinner round the table, they cheer each other on, they're there for each other when they need it. It's really sweet to see. All Joe's good traits have his parents written all over them."