“I am not famous, or rather, I don’t really want to be famous in the way American media defines a “celebrity” as someone so untouchable that you can’t even “earn” his or her attention—as if that would be moral by anyone’s standards. I just want to make music. I just want to be myself.”
AKA Bog’s first reaction at Marianne without her makeup on.
AKA Why is it she who must suffer his past choices
Because I don’t think he think’s she’s ugly. Nor do I think he has a preference. I just think he’s going to be startled that THAT STUFF WASN’T YOUR FACE. WHERE DID YOUR FACE GO. I WILL TREAT IT. HERE. HAVE ANTIBIOTICS.
Marianne: Bog… no- no Bog sweetie I’m fine I just-FJDKAKDA [washcloth slaps her face]
Bog: DON’T WORRY MARIANNE I WILL SAVE YOU [scrub scrub scrub]
Marianne: OH MY GOD BOG STOP IT.
Bog: I WILL SAVE YOU MARIANNE. I WILL GO GET YOUR SKIN.
Marianne: I chose you…. I chose you.
Bog: [striking heroic pose] I WILL SAVE YOUR FACE. I WILL RUN TO THE ENDS OF THE DARK FOREST TO FIND THAT PURPLE SKIN THAT’S OVER YOUR EYES. AND THAT STUFF THAT TATES GOOD ON YOUR LIPS. [stalls] OH NO MARIANNE. I NEVER MEANT THAT. I WOULD NEVER EAT YOUR LIPS LIKE THAT MARIANNE. OH GOD MARIANNE. I CAN NEVER KISS YOU AGAIN.
Marianne: Look at my life… look at my choices…
Bog:WHAT HAS THIS WORLD COME TO. I CAN NO LONGER KISS MY LOVE BECAUSE YOUR LIPS TASTE OF WATERFALLS AND SUNSHINE! TIS MY FAULT THEY’VE GONE, MARIANNE. I AM THE REASON YOUR LIPS FELL OFF! I AM THE REASON YOUR MOUTH IS NO LONGER ON YOUR FACE. I AM TO BLAAAAAAME!
Marianne: Yeah. Okay. Sure.
Bog:WHAT IS LIFE. WHAT IS IT.
Marianne: Okay, I think it’s time for bed now.
Bog: … [sniffle] I am the reason your face ran away.
Marianne: Okay… bed time, big boy.
Bog: [patting her face] Does it hurt when I do this? Have I harmed you?
Marianne: No. It’s just mildly irritating. So stop. [pushes him into bed] And when you wake up my face will be back. Because it didn’t go anywhere.
Bog: [curls up in bed miserable] It ran away because of my face.
Marianne: No it ran away because you’re an idiot.
Bog: [gets out of bed to hug her] …. so…. it was because of me! :’(
Marianne: I swear to god I’m giving you a make up lesson tomorrow. After I look at my life choices.
Bog: MY MIDDLE NAME IS MISERY!!!! D’:
Marianne: This is the man I’ve chosen to love.
Bog: [dropping to his knees, fists raised to the heavens] OH GODS WHYYYYYYYYYYYY. WHY IS IT YOU THAT HAS TO SUFFEEEEEERRRR!?!?!?
In lieu of fathers day can we agree that Bog carrying around his fast asleep toddler during a Fairy Ball would be the cutest thing ever.
Like a little kid who’s trying desperately to stay awake and ends up falling face first into the bowl of strawberries, and he just picks her up casually and holds her the rest of the night. And in fall he uses his cape as a blanket, keeping this little kid warm while he glares at all the other people who are chittering nervously from their spaces just like, yeah. Go ahead. Say something. I dare you.
No one dares. No one even tries to go near the Bog King. But they’re all very confused as to how they should feel about the scary Goblin with the adorable little Fairy child snoring away in the crook of his neck.