#This look has got me feeling so fabulous. So i think this tuesday thing is going to be a good pick-me up

[satans-knitwear]

Bit fancy for a tuesday, innit? tuesdays is going to be a thing now.

Treat me ~ Tip me ~ More of me

#My mom said she was happy to be of help (she was the one who said it to me the other week) #This look has got me feeling so fabulous. So i think this tuesday thing is going to be a good pick-me up #Satans knitwear #Alt pinup #Pinup girl #Stockings and suspenders #Petticoat #Corset top #Corsetry #Overbust corset #Tuesday is another day i will be able to keep track of now! Along with Fishnet Friday and (the bins need to go out tonight) Wednesday #bi girl #cheeky #uk girl #wlw #Lingerie reveal

[gentlebeardsbarngrill]

04/23/2024 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; David Jenkins; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutte; Vico Ortiz; Astroglide; Articles; Fan Spotlight: Cast Cards; Never Left Podcast; OFMD Colouring Pages; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

== David Jenkins ==

Chaos Dad popped out to send some love and support today!

Img Src: David Jenkins Twitter

= Taika Waititi =

Well, Taika broke the internet today with his Belvedere commercial. Directed and starred in it. Be sure to open a window because it is hot.

= Samba Schutte =

Samba has started up a new T Shirt campaign to benefit the charity @everymomcounts that helps to make pregnancy and childbirth, safe and equitable! You can either buy a #CrewForLife t-shirt, or sign up for one of his baking classes/meet and greets!

Our Merch Means Death on Stands

Delicious Chaos with Samba Schutte

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico starred in a short called Fire F*cking Fire and great news it's headed to the Tribeca Film Festival in June!

Img Src: Vico Ortiz IG

== Astroglide ==

Our besties over at @astroglideofficial put out a word search today with a few words/phrases you'll recognise!

Img Src: Astroglide Twitter

== Articles ==

Warner Bros. Stock Has Had a Rough Year. Why This Analyst Thinks It Will Get Even Worse.

Mark Indelicato Frustrated With Queer Shows Constantly Cancelled

== Fan Spotlight ==

== Cast Cards ==

Our fabulous @melvisik has another cast card for us! Tonight's is another one of the bourgeousie that Frenchie and Olu manageed to include in their Pyramid Scheme! They are the one that Olu told to "Go Away"!

Img Src: @melvisik's Twitter

== Never Left Podcast ==

Next episode of the podcast Never Left is out! This one is Beautiful Princess Disorder Part 5!

Never Left Instagram

Never Left Linktr.ee

== OFMD Colouring Pages ==

More colouring pages from the fantastic @patchworkpiratebear ! Visit their tumblr for more!

== Love Notes ==

Hey there Lovelies. Happy Taika Tuesday! Did you have a good day today?

Dad's comments today brought out a lot of folks sharing their stories on therapy and I wanted to chat about it for a moment.

First of all, if you're delving out for the first time (or trying again after years of not going)-- just know, you're being really brave. Depending on where you come from and your background, mental health may not have been something that your family prioritized (or maybe it was but therapy was never an option). It can be pretty scary to talk to someone you don't know about your inner most worries. You're taking a big step, and I'm proud of you for that.

You've looked at your situation, whatever tough things you're experiencing, and you've decided to prioritize you and your mental health-- and that's amazing. It's a hard decision to make sometimes, and as simple as it should be, it's not that easy. I'm so happy that mental health is talked about and therapy is so much more accepted now a days. Growing up I was in a situation where we "didn't talk about ourselves to other people" and that can be so very lonely when you are feeling really down.

I wanted to mention a couple things that I didn't know going into therapy-- in case they help at all, but obviously every experience is different, so feel free to take or leave the advice :)

Firstly, therapy doesn't solve things overnight. Sometimes it'll take weeks, or months, or years to unpack some of the things you really need to work through. It'll take time. When I went to therapy for the first time, for some reason I thought I'd just be able to dump all my problems out on a table and the therapist would pick one and we'd work on it. Instead it was a gradual thing, where they got to know me, I got to know them, and the more we talked the more we were able to unravel. I just don't want you to get discouraged if it takes longer than you planned, it's definitely a process.

Secondly, something to remember, is not all therapists are going to vibe with you. It took me a few tries before I found a therapist that really worked well with me. If you don't feel like it's helping, consider looking into a different therapist, sometimes it's not the therapy that you're struggling with, but just a mismatched vibe with your therapist. If you can help it-- don't give up right away, try another, I was really grateful that I did.

Thirdly, and if you're like me, this is a tough one. Remember to advocate for yourself. Sometimes a therapist may want to try certain therapies, or exercises, and it's something you've tried and just isn't working for you, or they want to go a medication route and you dont, or maybe they're saying something you disagree with. Remember you're your own advocate here, and they're here to help you, not hinder you from getting to where you want to be. Speak up for yourself if you can.

Lastly, therapy, especially the first few, don't always end in happy feelings. Think of it like a muscle in your leg that you haven't been using for years...and it's atrophied. You have to build that muscle back up, and it can really hurt occasionally during that time. You might leave therapy feeling worse once or twice because you're finally letting out some of that vitriol you've been holding onto for so long. It should feel better later.. maybe the next day, but it may not feel great the same day. That's a perfectly reasonable experience to have, and if you feel awesome, that is too!

Anyway lovelies, not sure if that helps, but I wanted to share it just in case it helped someone.

Whether you're going to therapy tomorrow, or soon, or ever, or never, I am really proud of you. You're doing what you need for you, and that's the most important thing. You deserve good things, and healthy thoughts and positive feelings. You really do. You got this <3

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme is hats <3 Taika Gif Courtesy of the phenomenal @ofmd-ann, Darby gif Courtesy of the lovely @funforahermit

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #vico ortiz #david jenkins #samba schutte #never left podcast #our flag means death #ofmd #rhys darby #taika waititi #Youtube #Spotify

[greenconverses]

What's your overall verdict on the show?

Oh, I'm glad you asked because I was def planning on doing a post about it!

Overall, I'm giving the first season a solid B. It was a fairly solid interpretation all around and it nailed the feeling of the books from the very beginning. I had a lot of fun watching it and I'm excited to see where they go from here if they get another season or two (and so help me if the mouse doesn't renew!!!!!) now that the world and characters has been established. It was a big task to properly adapt this, and they did it!

Casting was absolutely stellar and is the main reason why the show succeeds the way it does. The main trio are so very good, especially Walker, who had to be the heart and soul of the show, and he nailed it every episode. I'm excited to see how they all grow as actors in future seasons or with new projects! Also, the supporting cast was fabulous. There were weak spots here and there (LMM) but overall, excellent work by the casting director.

I loved the set design and how they brought the world to life. I'd like to see some more fun with costuming next season (why the same outfits for the whole parts of the quest? give us variety!) and I hope we get to see what they'll do with some of the sets next season.

Areas that need improvement are the script and directing. None of the action scenes really wow'd me and the blocking in some episodes was weird. I complained by story pacing since episode one and that issue never really resolved itself. If they'd gone for a 10 episode season, or extended the shorter episodes by like 5-10 minutes, I think some of these issues would've gotten resolved. There wasn't a lot of time to breathe and sit when big things happened; going from the throne room straight into Luke's betrayal scenes is a recent example where I think the episode could've padded it out some. A lot of the story felt rushed when it didn't need to be.

Unfortunately, by spending so much time with the Sally/Poseidon and Percy backstory, some of the character development and world building for everyone else got sacrificed. BUT I adored those additions, so I'm not mad about it, just disappointed that the rest of the characters didn't get that. (Again, I liked the framing they did with Luke and Percy in the last episode, and showing those scenes gave a little bit more weight to his betrayal... but it could have been more.)

I've already bitched about my other issues with the script (exposition is a scene killer!) and I'm like vaguely annoyed that some of the main beats/themes of the first book were ignored, but they usually replaced it with something better or at least in-line with what had been established in series. Again, I'm not a super stickler to "It has to be 100% accurate!" thinking when it comes to book adaptations, so I didn't mind some of the changes as much as other parts of fandom might've.

So yeah, I'm satisfied. I'm going to miss having something to look forward to on Tuesday nights!

#anon #ask box #pjo tv #pjo tv show #jess watches pjo

[nancypullen]

Welfare Check

Just popping in to let you know that I’m not in a coma or six feet under. We had the grandgirl for a few days and then I needed Tuesday to recover. Just kidding, she is FUN, we’re just not used to that much fun.  I don’t remember getting a backache during bath time when my kids were little. Anywho - today I played catch up around the house, processed a couple loads of laundry, and planned our menus for the next few days. Normal, boring stuff.  What I haven’t yet done sit down and watch the Miss Universe pageant!  I spent last week watching a few preliminary rounds and checking out national costumes. I chose my favorites, and I’ve avoided all pageant-related news so I can still be surprised.  Honestly, I just want to see the evening gowns. I already know that Miss Guatemala struggled with hers.  Didn’t she try walking in it before the pageant??

https://www.tiktok.com/@masterpageant/video/7023113387219504410 Click that link to watch her gown try to sabotage her.

Other than feeling my age and dreaming of gowns (by the way, it’s really sad to know that at my age any chance to wear a fabulous gown has passed) I’ve been choosing colors for the kitchen.  We finally found a reputable company to paint the cabinets and I’m in the market for some granite now.  The estimate for the cabinets was quite a bit higher than I expected, but I was basing it on Tennessee prices.  They’ll sand, prime, sand again, spray, and seal. The fellow who gave us the estimate said it should take two to three days.  Guess who won’t be cooking?   I know I’ve talked about choosing Knoxville Gray....

or maybe a pretty thyme green.  But I think I’m chicken.  I’d probably love it, but I’d have to commit to it for a long, long time.  We won’t be doing a kitchen makeover again anytime soon.  I’m probably going to play it safe.  I don’t want white, I want something creamier and deeper.  Not beige, not khaki, not yellow-toned....just a creamy, soft, off-white.

That’s our wall color and our flooring - I just plugged in some fake cabinet fronts and oil-rubbed bronze hardware and faucet.  That’s a nice, serene space and will still lend itself to seasonal decor - spring flowers to Christmas reds. If you know me you already know that I’m going to drive myself crazy comparing fifty shades of cream before deciding on the right one.  One step in the wrong direction and I’ll have cabinets that look yellow, a toe the other way and they’re too cool.  No one else would care but I’d see it every day of my life.  Yeah, yeah, I know - first world problem. Speaking of fifty shades of cream - I haven’t colored my roots in ages and I’m back in the camp of not wanting to keep that cycle going.  I wonder if I could just get a starburst of really light highlights on the crown of my head and let everything grow out again. I think I just want to be an artist granny with a long, white braid.  My mother told me that white hair aged me, but I’m telling you - the last eight months have aged me more than the last eight years.  I’m hoping that 2023 revives me.  Of course, I’ll be 60 on my next birthday, I’m allowed to age. If wrinkles only go where the smiles have been then I’ve smiled a lot. Anyywayyyy, I’ll be back tomorrow with some things to say. I’ve been thinking about stuff.  I’ve got to pop some dinner in the oven for the mister and then kick his butt at Jeopardy.  It’s all part of our romantic daily routine.    Stay tuned for fast-paced, meaningful blog posts.  Just kidding, it’ll be more nonsense. Stay safe, stay well, see ya’ tomorrow.

Nancy

[chromalogue]

It’s my second day in Germany.  I’m typing this from a sunwashed hotel room, in a hotel that I didn’t realize was meat-themed until I saw its name on several butcher shops and a 24-hour sausage vending machine.

Breakfast was free, and served in an elegant dining room.  It consisted of assorted charcuterie and cheeses, sliced tomato and cucumber, a thick orange-coloured juice that I think might have been apricot, excellent coffee with thick yellow cream that tasted slightly cultured, and an assortment of breads.  The honey was weird, but pleasantly so.  It tasted herbal, rather than floral, if that makes any sense.

I left my brother’s house in Milton on Tuesday morning.  My aunt threw me a party on Sunday. I got to see cousins I haven’t seen in years.  Some of them tried to talk me out of dreading the separation, but like, I wasn’t going to decide not to go or anything.  Just, I knew it was going to be rough, and there’s no way not to make that part rough, so it makes sense to build in space for it. 

So far it’s been exactly as hard as I thought it would be.  My dad didn’t want to chance travelling to southern Ontario and staying with two school-aged children while his health is so iffy, so he stayed home. Will and Mom saw me off at the airport. I did my flights under a blanket of sadness that didn’t really go away until I touched down (whereupon it was replaced by exhaustion, mild annoyance, and culture shock).

My mom bought me a whole new wardrobe before I left. It was really important to her, even though that meant just getting several copies of the one outfit I wear.  My old black trench coat, though still exquisite, had definitely seen better days (the front pocket was holey, and I tore the sleeve on the metal housing for a subway poster over the summer), and even I had to admit that my grey and yellow hiking boots weren’t really professional attire.  So we found new boots that just slip on, because I am of an age where I think it’s safe to admit that I hate tying shoelaces and should quit expecting myself to, and a new super-fancy black trench coat that I managed to find for about 70% off.  The difficulty is, both of these were purchased on Monday, my last full day in Canada, so I had no time to break them in/become accustomed to their vagaries.  The boots are a little narrow for my gargantuan Routcliffe feet, and the coat is entirely waterproof, which I’m sure will be fabulous in the rain, but wasn’t so great for sweat.  If I ever get famous enough here to warrant, like, a statue with a fountain in my honour, the water will dribble gently from my sleeves.  I do look about as sharp as I can manage, though. 

So far my German listening has been seriously defective.  I don’t know if it was because of my tiredness yesterday, but even when I knew basically what I wanted to say, often I ended up saying, “Darf ich Englisch sprechen?” because I couldn’t understand anyone.  I could probably manage if they were slower, but I was convinced that “langsam” was the Norwegian creeping into places where it didn’t belong, and the only other word I could think of was “langweilig,” which I knew was definitely German, but I wasn’t sure how the guy at the sandwich counter would react to my asking him if he could please be a little more boring. 

Convinced that the local clock tower is not a reliable teller of time.  It makes noise on the hour, but the number of chimes do not seem to correspond to the times as I know them, not even on a 24-hour clock.  Plus, at 11:30 they just let it go wild for like five solid minutes. 

Anyway, I have an appointment with university folks at 4,and a few hours to kill until then.  Jet lag has, as always, turned me temporarily into a person who is awake during the day, if not actually a day person.  And I’m keenly feeling the distinction right now, because I feel compelled to stick around and not get lost before my appointment, but I don’t have much energy or much focus to get done any of the other things I could/should be doing.

Nevertheless, I should probably wander out and explore a little.  I need a SIM card, more fruits and vegetables, a pair of nail clippers, and most importantly a nice walk to break in my narrow narrow shoes.

#Germany

[dansnaturepictures]

7th February 2023: Lakeside and home

The sight of a Buzzard soaring against a perfect blue sky is one of my favourite in nature, and I was treated to epic views of this raptor which has been a long time favourite bird of mine circling around in the eastern meadows on my lunch time walk at Lakeside today with it harassed by some Carrion Crows at one point. It was amazing to watch this bird in the air, and just stand and watch in wonder and take this sight in as a great bit of escapism on my lunch break. Cracking views, some of the best I’ve ever got of a Buzzard at Lakeside. In a strong start to the week for flying bird shots for me helped by the brilliant light I enjoyed trying for photos getting the sixth in this photoset of this bird. I saw loads of Magpies at Lakeside today and Carrion Crows well, with a brilliant sighting of a Jackdaw as they do running across the roof visible from my room I took the second picture in this photoset of this bird it’s been a great start to the week for crows for me too. It was a pleasure to see and hear the gushing sound of House Sparrows on my walk and a bird that is sparrow in alternative name only the Dunnock aka Hedge Sparrow lived up to it’s name as I saw the one in the bushes of the front garden well again at lunch time as I went for my walk before it flew off. And it was a fabulous walk of finches too with an exciting view of a stunning male Bullfinch a cracking crimson flash flying into a tree. My first at Lakeside for a while and after last Tuesday’s first Chaffinch seen here for a while a male I saw both a male and a female Chaffinch in the bushes that border Lakeside to the north I’d not seen a female Chaffinch here for ages. The eighth picture in this photoset represents something unique for me, a Goldfinch photo at Lakeside or indeed anywhere as opposed to at or from home where I most frequently see them up close. I got a lovely view of this exciting and colourful bird tucked into vegetation with this bird heard well too on the walk.

In the way of water birds, seeing Greylag Geese in numbers again as I have the past few days in terms of getting towards spring is one thing, but the five Canada Geese I saw on beach lake through a clear view of from the northern path which won’t be doable as the leaves arrive was another. Canada Geese are a species that only come to Lakeside to breed really and they define that late winter/going into spring period for me here as their arrival back makes you anticipate the hopeful spring days of golden goslings from both Greylag Goose and Canada Goose. I was anticipating the Canada Geese’s first showing this year and in these days of fine sunny weather it feels apt. Also a bird of this time of year and beyond at Lakeside and home is the slate grey blacked Lesser Black-backed Gull and I caught sight of one out the window at home today.

Along the northern path I quickly spotted a mammal low to the ground disappearing quickly into a bush. I walked up to roughly where it had gone in as the walk progressed and thought I may have heard something shuffling deep in the vegetation. I am thinking it might have been a Fox which would be exciting, but the view of it was so brief I cannot hand on heart say it wasn’t a cat which you do see in Lakeside a fair bit and would be plausible so close to the houses or even - and this would be a turn up for the books for me here - a Muntjac. It’s one to keep an eye on in case I see it again though. Plant wise beautiful bright daisy on the green out the front, the enticing yarrow seed heads shadows of a wonderful flower I enjoy seeing so much at the flower bed area out the front, prominent teasel seed heads at Lakeside, the daffodil shoots in the front garden mixing nicely with a green bush, possible plantain on the green out the front and red deadnettle near the Lakeside allotments were nice to see. I was also really pleased to see not so ripe but still rich in colour ruby rose hips on a bush at Lakeside looking smashing up against the blue sky with a mossy rose gall looking beautiful in the sun I took the fourth picture in this photoset of some. It was nice to focus on the two together both things I’ve enjoyed a lot this autumn and winter. 

Seeing high dominant bramble in the meadows at Lakeside was a key landscape feature today. It was brilliant to be out in the bright and enriching sunshine again today, what a beautiful day with my lunch break at a beautiful oasis of calm in an urban area. I took the fifth and ninth pictures in this photoset of a view with the bramble mixing with the laurel hedge and a high bit of bramble and the seventh picture in this photoset of a view at Lakeside today. It was a pleasure to see the snow moon lowering in the sky as it got light this morning and see it still looking enormous as it rose over roofs just now. In one of the moon sequences I’ve enjoyed photographing and observing most it was spectacular to see. I wasn’t going to take a photo tonight but couldn’t resist, and going upstairs to grab my camera was almost meant to be as a plane flew across the moon at the right moment to get it in shot, a perhaps needed unique angle for this set of full moon shots I’ve taken making me in aw of the scale of it. Earlier on the constant sun of the day set nicely again today the tenth and final picture I took today in this photoset shows some red sky.

Wildlife Sightings Summary: Buzzard, Greylag Goose, Canada Goose, Mallard, Moorhen, Black-headed Gull seen well on the walk again, Lesser Black-backed Gull, Woodpigeon, Feral Pigeon, Collared Dove, Carrion Crow, Magpie, Jackdaw, Long-tailed Tit seen well again, Blue Tit and Great Tit seen and heard beautifully, Bullfinch, Goldfinch, Chaffinch, Starling seen well at Lakeside and home, Blackbird, Robin, Dunnock, House Sparrow and another bee which was great.

#photography #bullfinch #europe #buzzard #dunnock #house sparrow #great tit #blue tit #goldfinch #chaffinch #long-tailed tit #collared dove #feral pigeon #carrion crow #canada goose #greylag goose #mallard #birdwatching #england #lakes #lakeside #world #uk #earth #happy #birding #sunny #winter #spring #sunshine

[confidinggoblin-blog]

Joy.

Good evening (from my perspective) one and all. I hope you are all doing bloody well. Old Lukey boy has had a pretty good week all things considering.

It has been a busy week but that is what i need and as stated i wanted to write a blog post about all the good stuff in my life at the moment. It is important for me to be open and honest with you all about the stuff that i am going through out there has been a serious imbalance with what i have been open about very much in the flavor of all the bad shit and the stuff that has been bringing me down so it is well beyond the time that i should tell you about ll the stuff that is really keeping me going and smiling.

Friends.

To all my gorgeous, wonderful, kindhearted and fabulous friends out there that have reached out to me. I adore you. One of the toughest things about this separation has been that i have been completely uprooted from my life and from the people that have been closest to me for the last decade or so. The lesson that i have learned in this time is that i have been a fool to consider time and distance to be a defining feature of people that matter to me. I have people all over the slowly shrinking UK and seemingly the rest of the world that have taken the time to message me. You might not no this but something as small as a text or a facebook message have meant more to me than you could possibly imagine.

It's been such a comfort to me in this awful time but knowing you guys are there has been amazing and it's given me the opportunity to connect with people that I think I might have neglected over the years. This isn't through any lack of care or feeling or anything but purely through life getting in the way. Upon reflection being by all means unemployed for the moment has really been great for me to have the time to talk to folks that i haven't had the opportunity to connect with properly for a while. Already when i land back in the UK this Tuesday I'm looking forwards so much to going to Norfolk to see some of the best people a man could ask to know. All of my friends have been so amazing and it feels like I'm caught in some sort of wonderful pocket dimension where time has stood still on all these different formative periods of my life. From secondary school to the drama group i was apart of to the university days and London and beyond. I want you to know that although time and space got in the way i never let you stray too far from my thoughts and i cant thank you enough for not letting me stray too far from yours.

With summer looming over us like the big hay fever, eye rubbing, asthmatic bastard that it is i will be making my upmost effort to be seeing as much of you as possible. So dust off your sofas and spare rooms because the midlands ginger Hagrid is coming for you.

Family.

A very humble and gracious moment of thanks to all of my family near and far. I would like to think that this separation has been as much of a surprise/shock as it was to me but you have all been so fantastic in your support. To all my parents step or other wise, I know you thought you got rid of me but I'm back baby. ike a 6ft boomerang im back in your lives and i thank you so much for being supportive and understanding but giving me the room to cope with the massive task of working out what has to come next. It was a life event that im sure you werent expecting but you have been a great comfort in such a turbulant time in my life. Being able to return home and still have my own space is a luxury that not many people might have so i am incredibly grateful to you for allowing me to be safe and secure. If i get the chance and oppertunity in the future i will make sure you all end up in really wonderful old people's homes. Running water and Werther's origionals. Not the generic stuff from lidl's.

To my big brother and my wonderful sister in law.

It was in no way your responsibility to take me into your home in a time of great crisis in my life. The world has dealt enough blows but for you to welcome me into your lives form this last month has been a time of great change for me. Having someone invade your life (family or no) can't be easy and i know from personal experience that i am an less than ideal house guest but i really can't state with enough humility how much this has helped me to heal. I have never once felt like i was in the way (i am sure i was but you have never made me feel this way). You have included me in every aspect of your lives and i hope that one day i get the opportunity to thank you properly. You opened your door to me when i needed it most with no question and no demanding of details. You gave me time to be hurt. You gave me time to be happy and join you in happiness and you gave me time to talk to you about how i am hurting without judgment or impatience. On top of this the time i have been able to spend with my kick ass funny nephew has been something that has been severely lacking in my life.

To my little brother and phenomenal sister in law B&B.

When i rang around everyone to let them know what had happened you jumped into action like the dammed justice league, I think you were in the van with a full tank before the phone call had ended ready to rescue me from my misery and solitude. You had a home open to me and jobs waiting to keep me afloat and a baby nephew that you couldn't wait to have spend more time with his uncle Luke. Your care and love has done more to mend my heart more than anyone could ever break it. I am a better man for knowing the three of you and i strive t o keep being the best version of myself that you all deserve. And if you are reading this Pav (or anyone who knows him) i want you to know that i count you in the family. Who else than family could have such a stunning precision for calling at the exact moment that we sat down for dinner all those years ago just to tell us what you had been up to. Not to mention that you dropped everything to help the big brother of your friend. It might not seem like much but you are a very special young man and i am very lucky to know you.

To my little sister R.

I initially saw your excitement at my leaving London as a double edged sword what with everything falling apart but you have been a huge part of my ability to heal. I took the excitement of my coming back to the midlands badly much to my shame. The joy you felt was now the very same joy that i feel with only a couple of days left in Ireland. I feel the same joy that i can now be such a more present part of my beautiful nieces and nephews life. The days following the separation where i could hang out with the kids and show them star wars for the first time have quickly become a part of my life that i will treasure as long as i live. This period of my life where i have been able to share something so important to me with the people i love have helped to show me what is really important. I have given up the rat race for the moment. Living my life to go to an unforgiving job and replaced it with the excitement of my nieces and nephews running into my living room excited to hang out and find out what happens next in one of my favorite stories. It is especially special to me when that story is completely about family. A story where family is the driving force for being better. A story where no matter how bad things might be, family good or bad will be the thing that makes everything better. Where together even an insurmountable oppressive force can be overpowered by just letting yourself help and be helped by those closest to you.

And for my little sister J.

You are growing up in a time that few have had to grow up in. The pandemic has made it as hard and as unforgiving a time to start university as possible but you have shown yourself to be driven, brave and unrelenting in the face of a very trying first couple of years at uni. I am proud to be your big brother and i cant wait for you to come back from uni and you can show me what young people get up to. I will be insisting on at least one night out with you because i realized that any opportunity that i can take to be the embarrassing big brother is something that i wont pass up for a long time. One of my favorite photos of us is at my wedding with me throwing you around the dance floor. I know the teenage embarrassment was strong that night but the photo really shows what it means and i promise to keep embarresing you for as long as i can. Make sure you bring your dancing shoes to L&D's wedding.

To L&D. I cannot wait for the wedding and i will be on top form. Seeing all you guys again is so exciting and a good motivator to make sure i can fit into my good suit and extending the invitation through the day was so generous. I will repay it with dances and good times for sure.

i should sign off now as we are creeping into the very wee hours but aren't you all proud of how focused that was.

I continue to try my best to be better.

Smiles and Sunshine.

L

cc

[allylikethecat]

oh ally we ABSOLUTELY care!!! pls post today 🥹🥹🥹

i've been thinking about the new chapter since i saw that photo of george looking like a baby duck with that kid

AHHH thank you 🥺 like I know in the grand scheme of things I write my fics because they make *me* happy but wow does it feel very nice to hear that other people are enjoying them as well!

Does this mean I just have to get something else done for Tuesday?! 😭👀

Also OH MY GOSH there have been so many pictures / videos of Matty and George with kids recently. I know the boy was older but Matty bringing that kid on stage last night?! Adorable. Absolutely adorable. The inspiration has been ~inspiring~ and I am honestly so excited that we are going Fictional!Matty a baby even though he's obviously got to be extremely dramatic and angsty about it first.

Thank you so much for reading... and I guess keep an eye out in the next hour or two! (I am going to be needy and request you circle back around to follow up and let me know what you think!) Thank you for sending in this ask and I hope you have a fabulous Saturday!

❤️Ally

#allylikethecat #ask ally #anon ask #fanfiction #keep it kind #matty fic #gatty #gatty fic #mpreg #make way for ducklings #idk what i was expecting... like sometimes im like ah yes the people will obviously want a tuesday update thats my whole thing #but then im also like wtf ally you read massive amounts of fanfic you wouldnt want to wait for an update either if given the option #anyway thank you for caring and for your ask and for reading #i hope you like the update !!! #and i will be requesting feedback lol

[lindsaywesker]

Good morning! I hope you slept well and feel rested? Currently sitting at my desk, in my study, attired only in my blue towelling robe, enjoying my first cuppa of the day (green tea!) Welcome to the weekend!

Wow! Here we are again: Friday! Where did that week go? No, seriously, where did that week go?

First of all, many thanks to everyone that got involved with Throwback Thursday on my page. Yesterday’s word was INCOMPETENT and I know incompetence is something that drives us all mad. The Trouble will tell you, I shout it out loud, “Where do they find these people?” The other thing I forgot to mention yesterday is nepotism. In answer to my question, “Where do they find these people?” They’re probably – in some way – related to the boss or a current employee. And you know what happens when Junior gets the job? He’s on cruise control 24/7 because Daddy will always bail him out! God knows how some people get their jobs! We won’t even go there but – whisper it quietly – it is possible to sleep your way into a good job!

Had an enjoyable Thursday night at John Saunderson’s autumn networking event. Always lovely to see the glamourous ladies and the old skool geezers of the music industry. I go to these events to hear some stories and hear some gossip, and this function never disappoints. Took a whole pile of selfies, of course! When they see me arrive with mobile phone in hand, they get ready for the inevitable.

REMEMBER: Winter is coming! The clocks go back one hour at 2.00 a.m. on Sunday, October 29th. Your Saturday night will run: midnight - 1.00 a.m. – 1.00 a.m. – 2.00 a.m.

The Q3 RAJAR (Radio Joint Audience Research) figures are out and Mi-Soul has attained a nice little increase upwards! Many thanks to all our faithful and loyal listeners! The consistency of our presenters and the quality of our live events must be applauded. Whether it’s a radio show or a function, you always know what you’re going to get; the guys and girls always deliver. But, of course, our listeners make the station what it is. Full stop. You guys are amazing and you already know this because I tell you every day.

Really hope you can join me tomorrow at 1.00 p.m. for ‘The A-Z Of Mi-Soul Music’: The Letter R (Part Eight). What a cracking letter it is! One more week of The Letter R, then a two-hour special on November 11, then the start of the biggest letter in the musical alphabet. Hellen Andrea Stavrou has built The Letter S (Pt. 1) and it will knock your socks off! Kerry McMilne is waiting in the wings to do Part Two.

Finally, the story of The Trouble’s keys. Couldn’t find them on Sunday, lots of bitching and moaning, couldn’t find them on Monday, more bitching and moaning, couldn’t find them on Tuesday, couldn’t find them on Wednesday. I was having to let myself out and post my front door keys through the letter box, so she could leave the house. “This is starting to get on my nerves!” she said on Thursday evening. “What have you done with my keys?” I knew I didn’t have her bloody keys! “Right,” I said, “let’s go through the series of events on Saturday.” Finally, she looked in the handbag she’d been using on Saturday and – lo and behold – what did she find? The words that came out of my mouth are not words I choose to repeat this morning but I’ll give you a clue. “FFS!”

Have a fabulous and funky Friday! I love you all. You’re probably thinking, “You don’t even know me!” but, if people can hate for no reason, why can’t I love?

#mixcloud #mi soul #dj #music #new blog #lockdown #coronavirus #books #weekend #democracy #brexit #cronyism #election #radio #autumm

[darlingpetao3]

Thank You For Ruining My Life: An Homage to Tom Cavanagh

“You’ve ruined all my future expectations of men.”

The costume-clad woman had the courage of steel to say this to the then 53-year-old actor, Tom Cavanagh of The Flash, in front of a ballroom filled with a couple hundred people. This brave utterance was spoken during the 2016 Fan Expo Vancouver convention during a Flash question and answer period with actors Tom Cavanagh and Candice Patton. In its third season, the show was undoubtedly still hitting its stride in popularity, and the room was packed to hear these two speak.

The brave woman whose turn it was at the microphone was referring to Tom’s role as Ed Stevens on the NBC 2000 hit, Ed. I had not known of this show previously, but having now heard such a proclamation intrigued me. “You’ve ruined all my future expectations of men.” That was a tempting notion, and as I continued to listen to this disarmingly charming and wittingly funny man steal the stage, Tom intrigued me even more. I’d watched him play three different versions of Harrison Wells on The Flash since the show’s premiere date, yet I hadn’t truly noticed him in a “life-ruining” way before.

Little did I know that Tom Cavanagh would not only eventually ruin my expectations for men as well, but he would change my life in other ways, too.

After the Q&A, I had this urge to buy a S.T.A.R. Labs T-shirt from one of the vendors at the convention. In my head, I thought I would purchase something so that I could have an excuse to talk to Mr. Cavanagh at his signing booth. Again, he intrigued me, and I wanted to experience more of his incredibly likeable personality. So, I dragged my friend with me to wait for what was maybe ten minutes in a queue. Shortly, I was paying the assistant for my autograph I would soon acquire. They wrote my name on a sticky note so that Tom would know how to sign a personalized message to me. And then, it was my turn.

His eyes sparkled when he turned his attention to me. I instantly had a feeling this was just the way he was naturally. Oh yeah, and I swear to God I’d never seen eyes that blue in my entire life. It genuinely stunned me.

“Hi!” he greeted me.

“Hi!” I responded, equally as thrilled. Tom admired the T-shirt I had brought and took note of my name on the piece of paper. I remember us joking together about the extremely lax security in and around S.T.A.R. Labs on the show, which prompted his message to me on the heather-grey cotton. He wrote my name, [followed by a heart!] and a very welcoming, ‘Come on by, just walk right in!’

I had official clearance from Harrison Wells himself.

I thanked him very much, leaving with my treasure folded over my arms. My friend and I walked towards the hall’s exit, and I couldn’t shake this feeling inside me. It felt strange—I couldn’t name it for the life of me. It felt like an odd fluttering with a simultaneous yet contradictory slightness of breath. My head was confused and would continue to be so for the rest of that weekend.

As I waited at my gate in the airport on that Sunday evening to head home, all I knew was that the moments at the con featuring Tom were the highlights of the weekend for me.

And that I was going to begin watching more of the other films and television shows he’d been in. What was the show the brave cosplaying woman had said ruined her expectations of men? Oh yeah, Ed.

Maybe I’ll start there…

***

Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad…

In my house, it’s never really Christmastime until Michael Bublé croons through the speakers of the wooden stereo system in the living room. It felt especially festive as it was now Christmas Eve—a month and some change since the con. It was late, possibly ten o’clock. I was lying on the floor in front of the Christmas tree with my trusty laptop, a word document open. I was writing three holiday-song short stories featuring the new muse in my life, Harrison Wells. I wanted to be able to post them the next day, so my fingers were taptaptapping away.

I had written a handful of things before 2017, most of which had been Marvel-related, under my second, ‘rebirth’ pen name online. I was a little fish among all the grand and fabulous writers on Archive of Our Own, and in many ways, I still feel like that little fish. I was only just learning and feeling out the psyche of the Wells characters. Each one is so different. In my rewatch of the previous seasons of The Flash, I’d taken diligent notes, and as I’d later learn with each following rewatch, I would know them all—what they think, how they talk and behave—like the back of my hand. It was fun to suss out these guys, and I found that I was growing to love the act of writing even more.

One month later, in January, I would post all the stories I’d written thus far on Tumblr. I’d just created an account and, who knows? Maybe I’d get a wider range of readers on here, too.

Might as well give it a shot, right?

***

Wild horses couldn’t keep me from attending Fan Expo Vancouver 2017, especially when the big news dropped. Not only would Tom Cavanagh be attending again, but so would Carlos Valdes, Danielle Panabaker, Candice Patton, and the convention-elusive star of the show himself, Grant Gustin.

Before the moderator for the Flash cast’s Q&A panel could utter the final thanks to the actors at the end of the session, I bounded from my seat and sped down to the photo op booth where the cast would be taking “Team Up” photos with fans. ‘Sped down’ has to be the most appropriate couple of words because I indeed felt like a true Speedster dressed head to toe as the small screen’s adaptation of Jesse Quick, the angsty and brilliant daughter to Harrison Wells turned superhero.

After waiting in a queue that felt like ages, I was next to stand with Team Flash. As I took a step forward, all of the actors’ and actresses’ eyes—the people I spend time with every Tuesday evening—were on me. I heard a familiar voice approve of my costume. It was Danielle.

“Tremendous.”

Grant even joked that he thought for a second Violett Beane, the actress who plays Jesse Quick, had shown up to surprise them. “I was like, what’s Violett doing here?” he said.

I stood in the back row, happily sandwiched between Tom and Carlos. I dared to let my hands rest on their backs, and I couldn’t contain my joy. Shortly after, when I received my near-instant physical photograph of the moment, I saw Tom had pointed at me. In my mind, it felt as if in his gesture, he meant, hey, look at this cool person. Haha. I couldn’t be further from it.

I would go on to further be uncool in public as I later found myself virtually shaking and almost hyperventilating in line for a one-on-one photo op with Tom. The guy dressed as Kid Flash behind me gave me a few encouragements of the “it’ll be okay” variety. As my turn finally arrived, the lovely man of the hour greeted me with a bright smile in recognition of my Reverse Flash T-shirt (I had done a quick change before this photo op because I had worn a Flash T-shirt for a photo with Grant).

“Great shirt!”

The internet comes up with many hilarious and fitting words, but none such so than the term “Cavanarms.” One of the said Cavanarms found its way around my shoulder in such a casual way. My hand rested on his back, and I have told anyone who will listen about how soft his sweater was. What was approximately a five-second interaction will stay with me forever. And to this day, I will always regret how I’m standing beside him in the picture—there’s a distinguishable gap between us. I could have been closer—should have been!—but I like to use the fact that I felt as if I’d combust into flames if I were any closer to the man.

Maybe I’d have another chance to combust later again that day because, believe it or not, this fan hadn’t had enough of seeing Mr. Cavanagh in person. And since he was appearing at the con for this day only, there was no way I was going to squander any opportunities. Besides, there was still one final thing left on my convention docket: the autograph. In my mind, going to get his autograph was an excuse to get to talk to him and simply be in his presence for longer than five seconds. Here, take my money. I’m a sucker, and I’m proud of it. I saved all year for this kind of thing, and Fan Expo has always been my ultimate nerdy Treat Yoself Day.

Plus, this year I came equipped with a question for Tom (something for which I may have prepared a little too far in advance).

“Which of your characters would win in a lawyering battle: Ed or Miles?”

Miles was Tom’s latest character from his newly released project Darrow & Darrow, a fellow lawyer as Ed Stevens (remember, the man who ruins women’s expectations of men?), whom he portrayed almost two decades prior. What I loved about Tom when I got to ask him this was that he was silent for a moment following the question. He was genuinely putting thought into my question. As he pondered, Tom continued to autograph the photo of us together taken mere hours ago.

“Ed. He would wipe the floor with that other guy. Like, Miles is great, but Ed has a rapier-sharp mind, you know?”

I wholeheartedly agreed with his answer and felt relieved inside for some reason. We thanked each other (as politely as two Canadians can) before I left him to pay attention to the next lucky soul in line. I made the mistake of casting my eyes downward at the signed photo.

Tom had signed two little hearts over the I’s in my name. He really needed to stop adding hearts to my things, or I was just going to melt to the floor. In fact, I started to make these strange noises as I tried not to completely maul everyone in front of me while exiting. My friend ushered me as fast as physically possible on our way out of the main hall. One man took one look at me and asked, “Are you okay?”

No.

“Yep!”

The second I made it out of the herd, I broke out into open space. First came the minor hyperventilating. Then came the squealing followed by laughter. Top it off with various fangirlish comments of, “He’s so beautiful!”, “His eyes are so blue!” and “I love him!” and I was probably quite the sight to see (but at a convention, that’s considered normal!). My friend smiled on as she let me express everything that I had to keep inside until I had the right time to expel my emotions. I was on cloud nine. Ten, if at all possible.

The next day would be the con’s final day, which I would attend alone. My friend needed to catch the ferry in order to prepare for her courses the day after. I did a scan of the convention hall one final time in case there was something I missed purchasing. Afterwards, I sat on the cold hard flooring of the convention centre hallway for a bit of a break. I was wiped out. With my phone in hand, I smiled at the messages from this one Tumblr blogger who had been following my posted adventures at the con. I had seen and replied to many of her comments on my stories I’d written thus far, and I enjoyed her matching enthusiasm for Tom and The Flash in general. I felt her to be a kindred spirit. I had no idea then that I was chatting with one of my future best friends, L.

***

I spotted her.

She was wearing an identical shirt to the one I had on—a light grey T-shirt with a sequinned Spider-Man mask in the corner, which around it read, We met on the Web. A giddy me couldn’t wait for the short escalator ride to end. Her back was to me and facing the baggage claim, so here was my chance to surprise her instead.

I towered over my friend, E, and donned a low, authoritative voice.

“Excuse me, Miss, can you come with me?”

She squealed a greeting to me and I returned it as we hugged for the very first time after two and a half years of online friendship. We would still have about two hours to kill until our mutual Tumblr best friend, L, touched down at Chicago’s O’Hare Airport from across the Pond.

Something I noticed was that E and I carried on talking during our wait like it was second nature, that we hung out like this all the time. Whereas when I met L in person for the first time the year previously, our first meeting was that of quiet, delighted shock, unknowing how to react to one another’s physical presence. It almost felt like a fantasy. The closest thing we’d ever gotten to this was visiting over video chats! I’m not sure what each of these different reactions in these separate meetings meant, but what I do know is that I’ve never had such strong female friendships such as these—so full of uplifting support and love for one another. They are the greatest ladies I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.

And as a searching L eventually turned the corner to meet us in the Arrivals terminal, I caught sight of her Tom & Grant bandana tied around the handle to her carry-on bag. It was an item she had received in return for helping fund the short film produced in 2018 (I’d bought the ringtone). Seeing the accessory jolted me to remember that the former of the titular short was the reason for this long-awaited get-together holiday in the Windy City in the first place. Tom Cavanagh, unbeknownst to him, had just officially united three online friends, each from a different country, to spend six full days of in-person bonding and a whole lot of fun.

***

I should have been shelving books.

I should have been doing a lot of library-related tasks, but my head was elsewhere. Anywhere other than the small-town public library where I work. Instead, I sat on the carpeted floor of the Junior/Young Adult section with my phone in hand and a dreadful article title staring back at me.

“The Flash: Carlos Valdes and Tom Cavanagh to Exit after 7 Seasons.”

My world felt like it was falling apart.

Tom was leaving? There had been rumours and wonderings spreading around the fandom regarding whether he was leaving the show. With a storyline ending with a monumental sacrifice and a time-travelling man saying his farewells, it all seemed to point to the fact. I should have known… I could have rivalled Supergirl as being the Paragon of Hope after all the optimism I doled out to my followers and friends who would come to me worried Tom would exit the show. I would always give reasons to deny such a thing could happen, claiming that I’d believe when I saw it.

Well, there it was, and I definitely saw it.

One could feel the ripple effect over the internet of the shards of broken and riled-up hearts around the world.

Tom’s exit was on his terms, having not felt challenged by his character’s plotlines, as mentioned in a recent Entertainment Weekly article. As a viewer—and I am a viewer (Mike and Tom Eat Snacks, anyone?), it has been increasingly difficult to look past the missed shots made by story editors and showrunner, so understandably, the actor would want to seek something more exciting and meatier. That said, Tom has always shone on-screen and taken what he’s been given in stride. He turns unearthed material into diamonds and indeed shines on screen. Steals it, even! Tom easily makes the episodes he’s in better, and when he’s missing, you feel the loss. The few episodes of Season 7 without him only give us a tiny hint at how the show will be without him going forward. It much resembles when you might bring out your favourite jigsaw puzzle, only to find that the one piece you need to complete it isn’t there.

***

On a personal note, as I write this, I am roughly 20 followers away from reaching a milestone of 2,000. I have written well over 200 stories for The Flash alone (whether they be short or long, one-shots or chaptered), and goodness knows how many words I’ve generated altogether over the course of these many years with inspiration from the show and my favourite character. I’ve written and co-written novel-length stories, one monumental Wellsian story of which was done alongside L and E (almost solely done through alternating text messaging in the app, Line) that reached over 108,000 words and consisted of 42 chapters. And when I’m not writing for my blog, I’m also working on trying to accomplish my dream of becoming a published author. Just as I thought before I launched my Tumblr blog, I think again now: Might as well give it a shot, right?

***

I have watched virtually everything Tom has been in that I could get my hands on, both physically and electronically. Sure, a few titles are out of my reach and probably lost to the very early 90's forever, but from what I've seen through Tom's filmography is enough to know that he can do anything. He can play the romantic leading man that will make you fall head over heels for him or a deranged killer that will have you genuinely scared of him. That is talent. Tom always brings something new to the table from each role to the next, and (when he's not playing those psycho killers) you can't help but admire his craft.

Not only is his acting stellar, but from what we as fans have gathered on the man, Tom has got to be one of the kindest men in the business. His humour and sheer ridiculousness could get anyone through a tough time (we’ve seen plenty of bloopers and behind-the-scenes videos to prove this!). He has clearly bottled and stored an endless supply of Fountain of Youth™ and each year continues to wow us with his handsomeness. Tom is charming, dedicated, and yes, arguably holds the world record for Bluest Eyes.

In my eyes, Tom Cavanagh gave me the two best friends I could have ever asked for, as well as plenty more lovely friends I’ve continued to make online. (One day, I hope to meet him again so that I can tell him in person how because of him, I’ve met such very important people in my life). Through Tom, I have truly found my passion for writing, and in doing so, segued me to dare to dream of becoming a published novelist. I wholeheartedly believe all of this would not have happened if it weren’t for those first series of events that led me to meet Tom and love and admire him immensely. He is indisputable proof that there are indeed men like him out there. Indeed, he did ruin all of my future expectations of men. He ruined my life in the absolute best way and I am eternally grateful.

I am very much looking forward to what Tom will do next. I think it’s rather needless to say that I will follow him in his career, as he has gained a devoted fan for life. He represents so much to me and so much of it I have gained since meeting him that fateful day, when I thought to myself, Maybe I should buy this T-shirt and get this guy to sign it. Wherever Tom goes in life, I’ll be here to cheer him on.

I have a pretty good feeling plenty of others will, too.

#i don't exactly want to tag this with his name #but this is a personal essay of sorts regarding tom cavanagh's effect on my life #if you decide to read I hope you enjoy it!

[snackhobi]

pairing: min yoonji x reader / word count: 9.7k / genre: f x f smut, assassin!au

summary: a fic inspired by this post and that’s pretty much it-

warnings: sexually explicit content (NSFW), talk about death/assassination (nothing graphic dw! but they are assassins, so), mild violence, unnecessarily sexually charged lipstick application, face riding, fingering, multiple orgasms, oral (f giving/receiving), use of restraints, overstimulation, squirting, kind of dom!yoonji?

a/n: this is an entirely self-indulgent fic I wrote as a gift to myself for my bday, it’s a lil rushed bc I wanted it done for today! women are so very beautiful and I am so very weak, thank you ladies for all being so amazing ily. this was meant to be a short pwp and now it’s almost 10k but I have no regrets bye

--

la petite mort French literal meaning: ‘the little death’; also an expression used to refer to the brief loss or weakening of consciousness, specifically the sensation of orgasm as likened to death; an orgasm.

--

“It’s just unacceptable.”

The woman in front of you is clearly wealthy. Her dark hair is perfectly styled and her pale nails are perfectly shaped and her subtle makeup is perfectly flattering; she’s starting to get older but rather than shy away from it, she’s leaning into it, and she looks almost imperious in her beauty, eyes sharp and set of her lips severe. Park Dahye was born into wealth and has clearly thrived in the life that she’s been afforded.

“Mmhm.” You try not to yawn. 

“He’s flitting around with some young, silly thing on his arm, with no consideration for the family’s reputation— my reputation,” she continues. Her posture is perfect, from the set of her spine to her crossed legs to her folded hands that rest on her knee, somehow demure and yet highlighting all of her beauty and riches; the jewellery on her wrists and fingers, the expensive heels on her feet, the slit of her haute-couture dress, no doubt tailored for her and her alone. “I’ve already spoken to him about his behaviour, but he’s just ignored my warnings. We may have agreed on the divorce but we’re currently still husband and wife— has he no shame?”

“Awful.” You don’t even try to hide how bored you are, but Dahye is so quietly incensed that she doesn’t even notice as she launches into the next part of her queenly diatribe, and you muffle a sigh.

That’s the problem with rich clients. Sure, they’re willing to fork over stupid amounts of money to you, but they also think that their issues are of paramount significance— like they’re the centre of the universe and their problems are the only important ones in the world. Like you’re interested in what they have to say. Like this is the only job you’ll ever do that holds real weight or meaning.

For them, it’s a life-changing (life-ending) decision. 

For you? It’s another Tuesday.

“Yes, yes, that’s just so terrible, gosh, I don’t know how you manage it,” you say once she pauses to take a breath, using the opportunity to cut her off before she launches into another part of her articulate rant. “Anyway. Would you prefer if his death was embarrassing or quiet?”

For the first time since you’ve met, she seems unsettled. “Pardon?”

Namjoon is much better with people than you, smooth and charming with his boyish dimples. Normally any discussions would go through your handler, but this woman had demanded to meet you personally and had been willing to pay for the privilege: so here you are, with your relative bluntness instead of Joon’s winsome smile.

“You know,” you say, gesturing with your hands. “When they find the body. Do you want him to be caught with his trousers around his ankles—literally or figuratively, that’s up to you— or would you rather it seemed like something natural and unpredictable? Like a sudden heart attack in his sleep, for example.”

When it comes to rich clients, a lot of it is about reputation. When someone’s shuffled off this mortal coil, it’s not just that they’re removed from the equation, it’s also about the ripples that their death leaves in the high society that they’ve lived in. Does she want her (soon-to-be) ex-husband made a mockery of, or does she just want him out of the picture?

She can’t see your face, behind your mask as it is, but you can see hers in perfect clarity. For all that Dahye seems put together and almost impassive, you see the tiny flicker in her eyes. Ah. She’s not just mad because he’s ruining their reputation. She’s hurt.

Man, that sucks. Honestly you bet it’s easier being an assassin than a rich housewife. At least when it comes to backstabbing you can literally involve a knife to sort your problems out. (Well, knives are messy, but you get the picture.)

“I’d prefer something quiet,” she decides. “I’d worry that it could lead back to me, otherwise.”

You’d be offended at the idea that you’d leave any trace that could implicate anyone or that this man’s sudden death was in any way suspicious, but she’s paying you enough that you find that you don’t care. You take pride in your work, but for the amount of zeroes involved in the fee you’re being paid, you think you can take an unintentional insult or two. Or three. Or ten.

You like money, what can you say.

“Sure thing,” you say, giving her a lazy, two fingered salute. You’ve been reclining against the desk of the hotel suite, flicking the complimentary, heavy metal pen between your fingers, twirling it like the world’s most underwhelming baton. You straighten up and let the pen drop back into the pen pot—wait, no, of course it’s a handmade porcelain jar, an alarmingly well-made Joseon porcelain replica. Everything in here stinks of money. “RM will confirm where the money is to be deposited. Half of it now as collateral, and half upon completion of the job,” you say. “If you change your mind between now and then, we’ll be keeping the original 50%, but if for some reason something goes awry, you’ll receive that money back. Sound good?”

She seems surprised at your directness. “I—”

“Fabulous!” You clap your hands together, although the sound is muffled by your gloves. You’re not about to leave your fingerprints everywhere, geez. “Alright, time for me to skidaddle I suppose! I’ve got work to be doing, people to be watching, men to be killing!”

Dahye flinches imperceptibly, but by this point you’ve already slipped out onto the balcony and into the night.

--

Being an assassin is hard work.

Technically, everyone has the capacity to kill another human being. But killing as a job involves a lot more than just caving someone’s head in with a rock—that’s why Cain isn’t referred to as an assassin, what with how he’d just bashed his brother Abel with a convenient stone that happened to be lying nearby. He was just a straight up dick.

No, when you kill professionally you need to be familiar with an array of different techniques, each one far more sophisticated than the last. You need to know how to be stealthy, how to blend in as you watch your target, how to set up the scenes of their death in a way that doesn't arouse suspicion. Or, instead, how to set the scene up in a way that lets any onlookers know that this person had been offed by someone who knew what they were doing, and knew it well. There's a difference between being a killer and being an assassin and you are firmly in the latter category.

So, if your client wants her husband to be shuffled off quietly, then that’s what she’ll get.

They really have pulled out all the stops for this charity gala. Everything is shining, glittering and bright: the surroundings, the food, the people. Especially the people. The rich elite have come together for an extravagant and exquisite night of ostentation and luxury, all in the name of raising money for some needy cause. (You try not to think of the irony and/or hypocrisy behind that.)

It’s almost laughable how easy it is to blend in here. Namjoon had secured (forged) invitations for you both, and so you hang off his arm as you make a slow sweep of the room, trailing unnoticed after your target. You’re not planning to make a move right now but you want to feel out exactly what he’s like: the more information you have about the person you’ve been contracted to assassinate, the better. 

Plus it’s an excuse to dress up nice and eat free food— though that last part is mainly Namjoon.

“God, these canapés are so good,” Namjoon moans quietly to you, hoovering up the flaky pastry crumbs from his fingers with single-minded intent. You dig your fingers subtly into his arm.

“I thought we agreed on not eating tonight, Joon,” you mutter to him, although you say it with a beatific smile in case anyone is watching; the place is heaving with people but you’re always on guard. (Even if Namjoon is right. The hors d’oeuvres that are on offer do look incredibly tempting.)

“You have a glass of champagne,” he points out.

“And you may have noticed that I haven’t drunk any of it.” You titter, as if he’s just told a funny joke, and lightly slap his arm. Again, you’re fairly certain no one is watching, but you can never be too careful. “It’s all about creating a facade, Joonie. It’s what we in the business call a ruse.”

Even throughout your back and forth, you’ve kept your eyes on your man of the night: Park Minjae, a middle-aged businessman who’s been greeting people and getting swept up in conversation, all while a slip of a blonde clings to his arm, stuck to his side like a pretty limpet. She’s cute, sure, but she lacks the poise that Dahye has, so you frankly don’t get it. Then again, not everyone finds strong women as attractive as you do. Weirdos.

You’ve been focused on Minjae but your eyes have also been flitting around the room, drinking in your surroundings, drawing up a detailed map of your environment (of course you’d scoped out the building before tonight, but with all the banquet tables and chairs around the layout is a little different). The people, too, have been subject to your scrutiny, although so far they all seem summarily unimportant and uninteresting, just as you’d suspected. You lift your glass to your lips and pretend to take a tiny, demure sip, glancing up through your eyelashes to scan the room again, and you freeze.

Holy shit.

You take back what you just said about everyone being unimportant and uninteresting. 

The woman who’s just walked in is fucking stunning. Her sleek dark bob is unstyled, but perfectly frames her beautiful face: sharp eyes, soft nose, flushed lips. Her cocktail dress lets you see almost every inch of those perfect legs, the line of her thighs to her calves and— oh, you swear you could shed a tear of joy. She’s already tall and she’s made even taller by the heels she wears, towering above most of the men here, a fucking Amazonian goddess who looks powerful and undeniably elegant at the same time. 

(Thank you for your service, tall women.)

You don’t know who she is, but goddamn, do you want to. She’s scanning the room, and for a brief moment, your eyes touch. A tiny thrill shudders up your spine at the darkness of her keen eyes, that quick and astute gaze. 

It’s only the tiniest of moments that’s over as soon as it’s started. The dark-haired beauty looks away and is already disappearing into the crowd before you realise, and it’s only then you notice that you’re staring, utterly drawn in by her cool poise and presence. You’ve been frozen in place with the rim of your champagne  glass resting against your mouth, and your eyelashes flutter as you blink and glance down.

The imprint of your lower lip has been left on the glass, stark red visible against its edge, and you squeeze Namjoon’s bicep.

“How does my lipstick look?”

He takes one look at you as he swallows down another tiny vol-au-vent. “Like half of it is missing,” he says, and you frown.

“Ugh. I’ll go touch it up in the bathroom. Keep an eye on our guy, I’ll be right back.”

It’s not until you’ve made it to the toilets that you realise that you do not, in fact, have any lipstick in your ridiculously small clutch bag. When it comes to your actual work, you’re meticulous and thorough and well-planned, but for some bizarre reason, a tube of lipstick is never the top of the list when it comes to equipment. Unbelievable. (You knew you should have worn the 24/7 stuff, but it was always such a nightmare to get off.)

You’ve been so busy rummaging through your bag that you’re completely caught off-guard at the sound of a quiet voice from behind you.

“Lost something?”

Oh, fuck. It’s her, your dark haired and dark eyed beauty, meeting your gaze through the mirror when you glance up from where you’re resting your bag against the marble counter  (marble, marble, marble, it’s all marble: the floors, the counters, the sinks; why do rich people always love marble?). She looks altogether too amused at your plight and at how your eyes have widened perceptibly upon seeing her again. But can she blame you? Her presence is so graceful and commanding and she’s so dizzyingly attractive it’s insane. Surely she must get this all the time.

You stare for a little longer than is probably polite, and even behind her fringe you can see how one of her eyebrows rises.

“Sorry for staring,” you say once you notice. “You’re just so beautiful.”

She pauses as she takes in the compliment. You see how her eyes flicker over your face and settle on your mouth; your upper lip, tinted burgundy red, while the lower is faint and smudged.

“Lipstick problems?” She cocks her head at you, still staring at your lips in the mirror. God, she’s so hot.

“Can you tell?” You sound rueful as you glance down at the reflection of your mouth, touching your bottom lip lightly with a fingertip. “I forgot to bring any with me so now I’m stuck.”

She finally looks away from you. You hear a small, metallic click as she unclasps her evening bag— marginally larger than your own— and lifts out a small tube of liquid lipstick. “Would you like to use mine?”

Fuck yes you would. 

“Oh, would that be alright?” You finally turn around, and you have to tilt your head back to look at her, taller than you in her heels. Jesus Christ. She’s going to be the death of you. Why are women so gorgeous? Who gave them the right? “I’m not sure the shade will match, though?”

You watch her beautiful mouth curve up into a small smirk as she pulls out a tiny pack of makeup remover wipes from her bag, and you swear could propose to her there and then. Beautiful and tall and organised? Holy shit. What a woman.

She’s got her bag in one hand, while the lipstick and wipes are clasped in the other; her hand is held up in such a way that you think she means for you to take them from her, but when you reach out she shakes her head.

“I’ll do it for you,” she says. The quiet note of authority in her tone makes you go weak at the knees.

Thank god the toilets you chose aren’t the main ones, because it means there’s no one around to see how she tilts her head at the marble counter in the universal gesture of get on there. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you, of course, immediately comply. You brace your hands against the cold stone before hitching yourself up, careful with the draping folds of your dress; the cold touch of the stone is noticeable through the material of your dress, but it’s instantly forgotten when your enchantress steps closer. 

You spread your knees so she can stand between them. Holy shit, she’s even better up close. Her lashes are wispy but they’re the perfect frame for her gorgeous eyes, which are dark and intent. You suppress a shiver. You hold yourself still as she leans forward and around you so she can put her clutch and lipstick down, trying to ignore how close she is, but there’s no way she can’t realise what she’s doing. Your heart is pounding. You wish you didn’t have a job to do tonight because you would so much rather be getting, ah, acquainted with this woman rather than following some old businessman around.

The only noise in the bathroom is the sound of peeling plastic as she opens the tiny packet of wet wipes before she curls one around her finger, glancing at you through her lashes.

“Open,” she instructs.

Your mouth drops open immediately. She sweeps the wipe over your lips, bottom, then top, touch firm but careful, drawing away the red from your skin; you stare at her as she works, how her eyes are cast down as she stares at your mouth. She’s using her free hand to grip your chin and you feel deliciously powerless in her grasp. 

You purse your lips a little to try and help her, watching the way her eyes flicker as she pulls the wipe back over them— somewhat firmer, this time, with more intent. Lingering. The only barrier between her finger and your mouth is soft and flimsy, the texture of the wipe against your lips like cotton as it drags across them, and it would be so easy to pull it out of her hands.

She flicks the dirtied wipe aside, heedless of how it lands on the unsullied marble, before reaching for her lipstick. She twists the tube in her fingers, motions of her hands precise and deft, and you’ve never been so attracted to how someone’s uncapped something before. 

You watch her hands. (She watches you.)

Your eyes trail over the wand as she pulls it out, dragging the doe foot against the rim to catch the excess before turning it towards you, putting the tube by your thigh, near where your hand is bracing against the marble. She takes hold of your chin once again. You stay quiet as she starts to sweep the lipstick over your lips, painting them the same flushed pink as her own. Once again she’s staring at her work so you’re free to drink her in, almost drunk from her beauty, eyes catching on the tiny moles on her pale skin, the smallest freckles that are only noticeable because you’re this close.

The squelch of the applicator sliding into the tube is almost lewd in the silence of the bathroom, and this time you can’t suppress a shiver when she pulls your chin down to open your mouth so she can go back in again on your lips, drawing a sharp, crisp line. Tracing the edges of your lips, the flushed swell of them, the peak of your cupid’s bow.

She glances up. For a moment you’re both still, staring at each other, tension in the air palpable, but then she smacks her lips and you copy the motion, evening the application of the makeup on your mouth. 

“Perfect,” she murmurs. “One more step.”

A small, confused frown flits over your face. She’s put the lipstick aside but then she lifts a finger and points towards your still parted lips. You take in a small, shuddering breath when she speaks again and you realise what she means.

“You don’t want to get lipstick on your teeth, do you?”

Both of her eyebrows have risen and she’s looking at you like you’re being silly if you disagree with her.

“No,” you say. You’re not about to deny her. “No, I don’t.”

Your eyes remain locked. You lean forwards, taking that perfect, long finger into your mouth, dragging your lips upwards so that any excess lipstick is caught against her pale skin, a ring of deep rose circling her bottom knuckle; you curl your tongue around her, hot and wet, feeling the crease of her knuckles and pad of her fingertip against your taste buds as you slowly, slowly pull away. 

It’s undoubtedly indecent and risqué and you can feel the flush of arousal settling in your lower belly, an almost embarrassing flush of wetness leaking out of you at the taste of her skin. She, however, remains unmoved, although she lets her finger linger just for a moment on your bottom lip, almost rough against their softness— but before you can swallow those fingers back down and ruin her meticulous work, she pulls away, lifting the discarded wipe to sweep it around her finger, catching the lipstick you’d left on her skin.

“Done.”

She steps back and you feel like you can finally breathe, a breath so deep you can feel how your lungs fill, oxygen rushing to your brain so fast you feel lightheaded. You watch as she sweeps everything back into her bag, clicking it shut with a note of finality; the sullied wipe is cast carelessly into a tiny, chrome bin with a flick of a wrist, her every motion regal.

You slide off the counter. You still can’t take your eyes off her and you don’t want to. It feels like whatever heaviness was in the air has dissipated, gone in an instant with a turn of her head— normally you’d let it slide, even if you feel disappointed, but she’s just so magnetic. 

“Thank you,” you say. You can see yourself in the mirror now and to your complete lack of surprise, your lipstick is perfect. The shade is lighter than one you’d have chosen for yourself but it’s beautiful on her, of course.

“You’re welcome.” She’s in the middle of washing her hands, but she glances over her shoulder at you, and the firm set to her face lightens a little as she smiles. It’s a small, sly thing, and you realise with a start that she knows exactly what effect she has on you.

I’m coming back for you, you think to yourself. You have work to do tonight, but—

“What’s your name?”

She pauses. She shuts off the tap with a quick motion, reaching forward for a rolled hand-towel, a neat stack on a metal tray nearby. You wonder if she’s not going to answer but then she speaks, looking at you instead of the soft cotton she’s rubbing over her skin. “Yoonji,” she says. “I’m Min Yoonji.”

Min Yoonji is the most gorgeous fucking woman you’ve ever seen.

“I love your dress, Yoonji,” you say, and it’s true, you really do— but you’d prefer it if it was off. Not that you’re about to say that, of course.

She lets out a breath of laughter. “I know.” Oh, god, you love confident women. “What’s your name, darling?”

You have that same split second of hesitation, similar to Yoonji’s only moments prior. You use a codename when you work, of course, and you have a plethora of fake identities that you use and are intimately familiar with— but the idea of your real name falling off Yoonji’s flushed, petal lips? Woof.

“Y/n L/n,” you say. 

Oh, Joon would be so unimpressed right now, giving some mysterious woman your full, real name just because you think she’s the sexiest thing since sex, but whatever. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.

“Well, Y/n,” Yoonji says. You were right, your name sounds so good falling from her mouth, the mouth that’s turned into a small, almost smug smile. “I certainly hope to see you at the charity ball in a few weeks?”

“Of course.” Your schedule has been magically cleared and you’ll definitely be in attendance for whatever ball Yoonji is referring to, even if you have no idea what it is. You only come to these things if you have to for work but for Yoonji you’ll make an exception. You’ll make a hundred thousand exceptions. A hundred thousand quinquagintaquadringentillion exceptions. “I’ll make sure to remember my lipstick next time.”

And there it is, the thing that seals the deal, the final nail in the coffin: Yoonji glancing at you out of the corner of her eyes, a sharp, dark touch that shoots through you as her smile edges into hunger.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “I’m sure it won’t stay on your lips long enough to matter.”

--

The thing you’ve discovered about Minjae is that, with his divorce due to be finalised soon, he’s apparently lost any sense of routine and is revelling in his new found freedom, which is kind of irritating when you’re trying to tail the guy. Sure, you’re still going to take him out, but you prefer it when targets have some sort of schedule that they adhere to— makes it easier to set up a kill.

“You’re certain that he’s going to be here tonight?” You’d been sceptical considering how the guy’s apparently thrown his schedule out of the window, but Namjoon had been certain.

“Positive.” He’d said. “He’s there every Tuesday night. You’ll have plenty of time.”

The house appears to be deserted. The driveway is empty and all the windows and doors are locked tight. It’s just one of the properties that the Parks own in the city, and for all its size and lushness it appears as though this one is rarely frequented; you imagine that the cleaners and gardeners spend more time here than the owners themselves.

It doesn’t take you long to evade the watchful eyes of security cameras to pick a lock and slip inside. You're grateful for the dying evening light that helps cover your tracks from any onlookers from the street, although you imagine the high walls do good work at preventing people from seeing into the grounds anyway.

There’s still enough light to navigate through the house, the golden tinged sunset casting warm shadows across the spotless furniture and fixtures; you take a moment to let your eyes slide across a huge canvas hanging on a wall that spans two storeys, some impressionist piece that’s surprisingly ugly for all the talent that’s obvious in its brushstrokes. Maybe that’s why the Parks are never here? You’d certainly try to avoid seeing this thing if you could. Eurgh.

Even though the building is empty, you’re careful as you start to make your way forwards. You always place your toes down first whenever you take a step, soundless as you start to map the house out in your mind; there are so many rooms you can hide in, but you’d prefer to be close to wherever Minjae ends up. Saves faffing around later. 

You’ll overpower him, inject the toxin into his blood and wait for him to die before setting him up on the toilet— it’s surprisingly common for people to die while on the shitter, the strain leading to an untimely heart attack, especially in older people. The poison you’re using tonight will mimic the symptoms of a heart attack in the case the coroner decides a post-mortem needs to be undertaken.

(Being found on the bog might not be a particularly graceful way to die but when you’re dead it’s kind of hard to be embarrassed.)

You’ve eased the door open into a large bedroom, and you’re just inspecting if it looks like this room sees more use than the others when you pause. It’s deathly silent in this building, the air still minus where you glide through it as you move, but there’s a feeling in your gut, some instinct that makes all the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. You freeze, ears straining to catch any noise to let you know if there’s someone else here, when—

There. In the reflection of a burnished pot, the tiniest shifting movement.

You react almost faster than the eye can see. You spin to parry a hit that was aimed for your head, and the strength behind it shudders through your arms. You only have a second to take in the details of your assailant— dressed in dark clothing, masquerade style mask in place, a professional just like you— before you’re deflecting another flurry of blows, flipping backwards out of reach before spinning into a kick, hooking that burnished pot with your foot and sending it flying towards the other assassin.

They dodge it. You both ignore the sound of clattering metal as you lunge forwards, trying to catch them off guard after their sidestep— your fist makes contact with their palm instead of their face, your hand engulfed in theirs, and you startle at their speed. You might not be the strongest but you’re damn fast. 

There’s a pause, and you can only see a slither of their eyes through the sockets of their mask, but you can tell that they’re impressed. And honestly? So are you. 

The moment shatters when they use the hand they're holding to twist you, locking an arm around your neck and putting you into a chokehold; they’re strong, stronger than you, cutting off your airflow. You need to get out of this before you fall unconscious, but if they’re trained as well as you then they’ll know how to combat the usual ways you’d use to get out of this.

So, in a demonstration of your flexibility you kick a leg up, using the strength of your thighs and calves to slam it into the arm that’s around your neck. Your assailant lets out a noise of surprise and pain as you slip out of their hold and cartwheel across the room before spinning to face them.

There’s a beat. The air is tense. You get another chance to take in the details of whoever’s just tried to choke you out; you stare at her as she stares at you, the two of you poised and ready to strike, watching and waiting. 

Knives might be messy but of course you’re not unarmed. You have multiple sheathed weapons in your clothes, though you don’t make a move to draw any of them. Yet. “I suppose you wouldn’t tell me who your employer is, would you?”

Your opponent tilts her head. “You don’t know?” She sounds amused, even through her mask. “Minjae took out a contract on the assassin who has a contract on him.”

Your lip curls back from your teeth. The only way Minjae would have heard about your contract is if Dahye had told him. Presumably to try and shock him out of his behaviour, or something, who knows. “This is the last time I’m accepting a job from these rich old farts,” you mutter. 

“That’s for certain,” she says. 

She starts to move and you catch her arm just as she goes to unsheathe a wicked looking blade, knocking it aside before she overpowers you and you start to wrestle. It’s messy and graceless but sometimes you just have to fight dirty. 

Whoever this woman is, she still has the upper hand because she was expecting you and you weren’t expecting her; she knocks you onto the bed and pins you down, swooping the knife up from where it had been thrown onto the mattress. You go utterly still as she holds it against your throat, towering over your from where she’s straddling your waist and kneeling on your arms. Any sudden movement from you now could lead to your untimely demise— and, unsurprisingly, you absolutely want to avoid that at all costs.

Namjoon would never let you live it down if you were killed on the job.

You hum. “It seems like we’ve reached an impasse.”

She doesn’t respond. The knife doesn’t dip any lower, though; you’re undoubtedly at her mercy but you notice she’s careful to keep the knife still, hovering above the skin of your neck, but not making contact.

“Well,” you continue. “At least I’m going out the way I’d always hoped to.”

Even in the dying light and with how her face is covered, you notice her face shifting behind her mask— a silent, questioning raise of an eyebrow. You give her a cheeky smile that crinkles your eyes.

“In bed with a beautiful woman, of course.”

At this she huffs out a laugh. “Do you flirt with every person who tries to kill you?”

You’re trying to look as non-threatening as possible to keep that knife away from your jugular. The longer you talk, the longer you live, even if you can’t see a way to get out of this situation right now. “Only the pretty ones.”

The small laugh she lets out this time seems more like a scoff. “You don’t even know what I look like.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes. “Any woman who can fight like you and knows how to handle a knife? Automatically hot. I don’t need to see your face to know that.”

The knife still hasn’t moved. She continues to stare you down and you go tense when her free hand moves. She tugs the cloth of your mask down to reveal your face, the air of the room almost cold against the suddenly bared skin, your breaths free to curl out unhindered.

“Usually I like to be taken out to dinner at least once before we get this intimate, but for you I suppose I’ll make an exception.” You’re still grinning cheekily at her, but your mind continues to race as you try to think of a way to get out of this, especially now that she’s seen what you look like—but you suddenly notice that she’s gone very, very still.

“Y/n?”

The grin freezes on your face. Oh, you’re so boned. You’re so very boned. Like, yeah, you’ve been seconds away from death for the past, hmm, five minutes, but this is somehow worse. How the fuck does she know your name?

You’re given the answer almost immediately. She withdraws the hand from your chin and reaches for her own mask. Your eyes widen and your breath stutters in your throat once you see who it is.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

Yoonji is staring down at you. She’s every inch as imperious and stunning as the last time you’d seen her— hell, even moreso now that you’ve seen what she’s capable of. No wonder you hadn’t been able to find out anything about her after you’d met at that garish charity gala. Because she’s untraceable, just like you.

“Well.” You stare back at her, not even attempting to keep the surprise off your face. “If anyone has to kill me at least I can die satisfied in the knowledge that it was you. Can I make a request? I’d be eternally grateful if you smothered me to death with your thighs. Just a suggestion, feel free to ignore it if you want.”

Yoonji cocks her head. Her bob is tied back, but there’s a loose lock of hair curled by the side of her face that shifts at the motion. Your fingers twitch. If she wasn’t kneeling on your arms you know you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from tucking it behind her ear. Any excuse to touch her. “Do you always talk so much?”

“Hey, if it means I get to feel your legs around my face before I die, I’ll give a full fledged TED talk,” you say. “I have to admit, though. When I pictured us in bed together I didn’t think it would be like this.”

The knife still hasn’t moved from your throat. She continues to stare, as if considering what to do next, though her face remains impassive. “What did you think it would be like?”

“Well, you know. Less knives and clothes involved and a lot more making out,” you answer. “You, telling me what to do. Me, entirely at your command. Anything the lady wants, she gets.”

The human body is a fickle and strange beast. Ever since you discovered who’s straddling you, you’ve been growing wetter and wetter, even if you’re trying not to let on that you’re steadily growing more aroused— you’re still distinctly aware of the knife that’s only centimetres away from your skin, but somehow your body is more focused of the fact that the woman you’ve been daydreaming about is finally in front of you again. 

(Well, less in front of you and more on top of you, which is an admittedly preferable option, sans the knife involvement.)

You see how Yoonji’s eyes are darting over your face. No doubt taking in how your pupils are dilated, how your breaths are a little shallower, quicker— signs of fear and signs of arousal are surprisingly similar. You wonder if she can identify which it is. Probably. You’re not exactly very subtle in your attraction to her.

“I forgot my lipstick again,” you add, and Yoonji’s passive mask finally breaks when she rolls her eyes.

“Didn’t I say you wouldn’t need it?”

Even the way she throws the knife aside is gorgeous. The sharp undulation of her wrist as she sends the blade skittering across the polished wood floor is careless and fluid. Her hands cup your face as she bends down, and you send up a mental thanks to any god or higher being who might be listening before Yoonji presses her lips to your and your brain goes blank.

Apparently Yoonji likes it messy. One of her hands is grasping your chin in a mockery of the last time you’d met and she’d painted your lips— your mouth is open and she licks past your lips as you shudder beneath her. She’s still got her knees pressed into your arms, pinning you down, but you desperately crane your head towards her, chasing that kiss; you tilt your head to deepen it, and the whine that leaves you when she pulls away is almost embarrassing.

The sun has finally dipped below the horizon and the room is dark, painted in shades of grey and deep blue. You wish you could see Yoonji properly and you can’t help but wriggle a little underneath her, but then you watch her raise her hands and clap three times in rapid succession before the room floods with dim light. Sound activated lights? Damn.

Yoonji’s mouth shines, covered in a sheen of your mixed saliva, her pretty lips flushed rose pink; even without makeup they’re beautiful and their colour is deep, the blooming petals of a flower. Your eyes trail over her face, down her neck, over the fall of her chest and stomach— you’re both far too covered up in these stupid ensembles of yours and you want to strip the clothes off her. You want to see every inch of her beautiful, majestic body, bared for your lips and hands.

Fuck, she’s so gorgeous.

“Not to, um, ruin the moment, but my hands are going numb.” The weight of Yoonji’s body being pressed into your arms has pretty much cut off the blood flow to your fingers and you can feel the telltale sensation of pins and needles spreading through your skin. “Can I have those back, please?”

Yoonji lifts her knees just enough for you to slide your arms out from underneath them. You immediately shed your gloves and go to grab her ass but she gives you a sharp look and you freeze, slowly settling them on her thighs instead, which she allows with only the slightest raise of her eyebrows.

“Watch,” she commands, and who are you to disobey?

She reaches for the tie in her hair, tugging it out and letting her dark locks fall to frame her lovely, beautiful face. You hungrily swallow down each sight that she feeds to you, the skin that’s revealed as she shrugs off her layers of clothing. She unbuckles the weapons hidden underneath her clothes as she sheds them; she’s a veritable arsenal of firearms and knives, all cast carelessly aside until her upper body is finally, blessedly naked. You’ve been staring at her the whole time, the graceful column of her throat, the delicate lines of her collarbones, and your gaze falls to her breasts, small and perfect, nipples dusty pink and hard. You want to put your mouth on them.

“Holy shit, you’re perfect,” you say.

She smirks. You watch as she rolls her body, lifting up from her knees and standing up, towering above you on the bed—your hands fall to the mattress as she pulls her trousers down, tight material dragging against her skin as she slides it over the curve of her hips and down her long legs. There’s a dagger strapped to her thigh, which she unbuckles and lets fall to one side, but god, if she used it to kill you right now, you would die a happy woman. The image of Min Yoonji towering above you in nothing more than some flimsy underwear is one you want to take to the grave.

You can see how the material around her entrance is darkened with her arousal, and you feel your own body react to the sight, pussy throbbing, your own lower lips slick underneath all your layers of clothing. Yoonji hooks her thumbs into her panties and pushes them down, and you’re enraptured as you watch how the wetness clings to them, before that last bit of clothing is cast aside too. 

You moan, unable to stop the sound bubbling up in your throat. From how she’s standing above you, legs spread from how her feet are either side of your hips, you can see everything—how her cunt is flushed, how wet she is, her folds shining. You bet she tastes so fucking good.

You let your mouth fall open, tongue lolling out in a way that’s obscene. You see Yoonji’s eyes flicker as she traces the motion, the way she takes in your expression: wide, hungry eyes, parted lips, wet tongue. Your hands skim up the back of her calves as she shifts forwards and returns to her knees, her naked core so, so close to your mouth, and you dig your fingers into her skin.

“Bon appé-fucking-tit,” you murmur, and then you pull her onto your face.

Yoonji gasps. 

(You were right. She tastes so, so fucking good.)

You’re utterly shameless as you slurp up her juices, the wetness that continues to leak out of her as you bury your face into her cunt, tongue lapping over her entrance as your nose brushes her clit. Your hands have moved to the flesh of her ass and you encourage her to grind against you, rolling her hips towards your greedy mouth; you’re staring up at her, drinking down her reactions, the way her face twists with pleasure and the shuddering breaths she takes in, perfect little breasts jumping at the motion. There’s a flush spreading down her neck and chest, pale skin blushing pink, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen.

You purse your lips against her clit, circling it with your tongue before dipping back down between her folds. Each time you breathe in all you can smell is her scent, heavy and dark, all your senses filled with Yoonji, Yoonji, Yoonji. When you hum against her, Yoonji arches her spine and throws her head back, so when you press your tongue into her you hum again, letting the vibrations shiver through her.

“Yes,” she gasps, rutting against your face. “Yes, yes—”

Her thighs tighten around your head. You redouble your efforts, watching her face as you continue to swipe your tongue up her slit and through her folds; you wish you could swallow each of the noises that are falling from her lips as she reaches the crest of her pleasure, the little gasps and moans each time you move your tongue in a particularly wicked way.

“There,” she says. “There, there, just like that—”

Your jaw aches but you don’t even register it, too intent on keeping your mouth open and hot and wet against her. It only takes a few more swipes and flicks of your tongue before she shudders violently, canting her hips towards your mouth as her legs go tense and she cums. She continues to straddle your face as she rides out the waves of pleasure, and you swallow down the wetness that flushes out of her rippling cunt, ignoring the throbbing between your own legs.

You can’t talk, muffled by her as you are, but your mind is singing. Look at you, you think. Look at how gorgeous you are. God, I could eat you out all day. (What a blessed life that would be.)

You can tell when Yoonji’s edged into oversensitivity, jolting when your tongue sweeps over her swollen clit; she settles back, knees spread as she rests against your heaving chest, legs tensing each time an aftershock shivers through her. Your mouth is open as you pant in air, but she watches as you swipe your tongue over your lips, catching the lingering taste of her on you, your chin opalescent with her arousal.

“Okay,” you say, breathless. “I’ve done everything that’s worth doing. I’ve peaked. Everything is downhill from here. You can kill me now.”

You’re only half joking, but your thighs instinctively go tight to rub against each other when you see how Yoonji’s eyes darken.

“I’m not done with you yet,” she purrs.

Yoonji might be naked while you’re still clothed, and so still armed, but she’s undoubtedly the one who’s in control right now. You are so, so okay with that. You watch with wide eyes as she shifts back, her hands grabbing the material of your jacket to tug you upwards, but before she can strip off your clothes you capture her lips with your own.

The taste of her is still heady and deep in your mouth and you nip at her bottom lip before pressing your tongue forwards. The kiss is already slick from Yoonji’s wetness and when you pull away, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects you for a moment before it breaks, which Yoonji wipes away from your chin with the pad of her thumb.

“Dirty girl,” she says, and you bite back a moan at the unabashed lust in her voice. Her grip on your chin is firm. “Did I say you could kiss me?”

“No,” you answer. “I couldn’t help myself.”

She tuts, as if disappointed, and every one of your nerve endings feels electrified, ready and anticipating whatever Yoonji is going to do next. “Such a shame,” she says. “You just can’t keep your hands or mouth to yourself, can you?”

“Can you blame me?”

Yoonji huffs out a laugh through her nose. She strips your jacket off in one sharp motion and then your shirt is similarly pulled off with single-minded intent, along with every other piece of equipment cinched to your arms and body. When you reach for her, though, she captures your wrists, her face stern.

“If you keep moving without permission, I’m going to take that privilege away from you.”

You don’t have to see your own eyes to know how your pupils will have dilated from that statement, blood thrumming through your veins, and you can tell Yoonji has noticed when her expression shifts.

“Oh.” A small, triumphant smirk appears on her face. “I see.”

You lift your arms up so she can pull your sports bra off (of course if you had known you’d been running into Yoonji again you would have worn something nicer). Rather than touch your heaving chest, however, she pushes you down onto the mattress, a hand around your wrists so they’re held above your head.

“Keep still,” she says.

She reaches for the holster that you’d had around your upper arm, lazily casting the knife aside before looping it around your wrists and pulling it secure.

Yoonji’s fingers ease under the nylon as she checks the fit. It’s tight, but not so much so that it’s painful or dangerous, and there’s a hushed moment when the realisation hits you— Yoonji and yourself are both skilled enough to know that you could easily free yourself if you wanted to. It would only take a little motion of your wrists and hands and you could slip them out of the makeshift cuffs in an instant.

You melt into the mattress. Yoonji’s eyes shift away from your wrists as she takes in the way you’ve gone utterly relaxed and limp below her, staring back at her. You see an expression flit across her face faster than you can see, before she slides down your body so she can push your legs apart.

You lift your hips to help her strip your trousers off. Her hand lingers on the concealed holster around your thigh, eyeing the small pistol nestled inside it, before that too is stripped off and cast aside. Her hands trail over the soft skin of your hips and stomach, eyes skimming over the bared length of your body before settling between your legs, the slickness of your inner thighs.

“You got this wet just from eating me out?” Her pretty mouth is curled into an expression that’s almost mocking, and your legs jolt as she runs her fingers lightly over your lower lips before rubbing her fingertips together to feel the wetness she’s gathered. “I haven’t even touched you yet.”

Your nails dig into your palms as your hands twist against each other and you shift your legs further apart. “Please, Yoonji,” you plead, shameless from desperation and arousal.

She laughs at your obvious hunger. “I suppose I should return the favour, shouldn’t I?”

You watch breathlessly as she lifts her fingers to her lips, swallowing them into her mouth to get them slick and wet. The motions of her tongue are languid as she licks across her fingers. You’re like a livewire, thrumming with electricity, and the sensation of her finally sinking one of those fingers into you sends sparks throughout your body.

Yoonji’s maddeningly slow. Your body takes her readily, her long finger gliding easily in and out of you, but she makes no move to speed up; you let out a small noise and she moves upwards to kiss you, as if indulging you, and you’ve just relaxed against her mouth when she plunges a second finger in.

She swallows your gasp as her fingers speed up, before she starts to kiss across your jaw, your neck, between the valley of your breasts and then closing her mouth over one of your nipples— she times the flick of her tongue with the thrust of her fingers, and then you feel how she takes her thumb to press your clit at the same time and you’re gone, falling over the edge faster than you’d expected. Your orgasm is fast but deep, your walls clenching tight around the fingers that continue to curl in and out of you, but she doesn’t stop.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “It’s too— oh—”

Those two fingers continue to rub your sweet spot as you edge into oversensitivity but Yoonji doesn’t let up. She continues to lick and bite at the skin of your chest, putting her mouth to your other breast and circling the hardened bud of your nipple with her tongue before kissing down your stomach, your pubic bone, and then pressing her lips to your swollen clit.

You whimper. Her pace of her fingers has quickened, and she curls them each time she almost pulls them out, the squelch of their motions obscene as they slide through the cum of your first orgasm. She stares up at you, lapping at your clit with her tongue, and you can feel the saliva that’s dripping from her mouth and over your flushed core, every inch of you oversensitive but screaming with pleasure.

It’s almost painful, but you can feel an orgasm creeping through that ache; you wring your hands together and sob as Yoonji continues to finger fuck you without mercy, her pace almost bruising, the thrust of her knuckles against you each time she bottoms out just one more layer on top of that overwhelming pleasure.

“Yoonji,” you gasp. “I’m g-gonna cum again.”

She hums against you, and you make an incoherent noise at the feeling of that sound against your clit, almost too much— and then she presses one more finger into you, and that’s it, that slight burn and stretch sending you hurtling over that edge again. When you cum, your hips buck and you gasp, air rushing into your lungs before it escapes you in a moan of ecstasy; the only sensations registering in your mind right now are the ripples of pleasure spreading through your cunt as Yoonji pulls her fingers out of you, pressing down on your clit in a way that’s almost cruel, and you sob as your legs instinctively try to tighten but are prevented from doing so by Yoonji’s unyielding presence.

She’s staring down at you as you start to go lax, and you think she’s finished with you, but you watch with widening eyes as she takes her ring and middle finger to run them through your sodden folds. You sob again when those fingers plunge back into you, palm pressing against your clit each time she curls her fingers, and you squirm underneath her.

“Yoonji, it’s too much,” you cry.

“One more.” Yoonji’s leaning back and staring at you, taking in the sweat that’s beading across your skin, the tears that are gathering in your eyes and threatening to spill down your face and into your hair. “You’re doing so well, darling, you can give me one more, can’t you?”

Your reply is incoherent, a small noise that shudders out of the back of your throat. You’ve never been thrown so thoroughly into pleasure like this, overstimulated and aching, but there’s that flicker of pleasure still between your legs, growing each time Yoonji beckons with her fingers, curling over your abused sweet spot again and again and again.

“Just say the word and I’ll stop,” Yoonji says, the wet plunge of her fingers into your abused pussy so messy and loud but not enough to drown her out. “One word and I’ll stop.”

You don’t say anything. You just let your eyes roll back into your head as you cant your hips towards her, trying to latch onto that thread of pleasure that’s thrumming through you below all your screaming nerves, and the noise Yoonji makes is pleased.

“There we go,” she praises. “Look at you, so good for me. Pretty darling.”

You can feel how your pussy clenches around Yoonji’s fingers, how the coil in you is squeezing tighter and tighter, how another orgasm is somehow creeping up on you— you tilt your hips towards that feeling, towards Yoonji’s hand, and then she’s pulling her fingers out of you in an almost rough motion and you’re cumming harder than you ever have before.

“Oh, fuck!” You sob. 

It’s indescribable. The sensation rips through you as your back arches off the bed and you’re cumming and squirting and gasping and you can feel the wetness that slicks out of you, your toes curling as your brain goes blank from the staggering pleasure and static consumes every one of your senses. Your entire body feels like nothing more than a vessel for the ecstasy that’s shooting through your veins, spreading out from your core and to every corner of your insides and limbs.

It takes you a while to come back around, aftershocks wracking through your body. You feel sluggish and slow as your mind slowly clears, focusing on the sensation of warm hands stroking over the skin of your stomach and hips and thighs; your eyes flutter open and when you glance down you can see the shine to Yoonji’s skin, evidence of your pleasure painting her in a thin sheen of liquid.

“Oh my god,” you moan. “Holy shit.”

She smiles. “You were so, so good for me,” she says. She leans down to press a light kiss to collarbones and you shiver. “So beautiful. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve died and gone to heaven before coming back again,” you reply. “Oh, that was so good, Yoonji. I’ve never squirted before. I didn’t realise I could. God.”

Yoonji laughs lightly. You can’t help but watch the way it transforms her face, the way her chest jumps at the motion, every inch of her gorgeous and majestic and cute and pretty. “You did so, so well,” she praises, before she kisses you, her mouth so soft; you barely notice the sudden easing of pressure around your wrists as she releases you, more intent on the sensation of her soft petal lips against your own.

You stare up at her as she pulls away. Powerful, amazing Min Yoonji, kneeling between your legs, naked but not helpless. Definitely less vulnerable than you right now. And yet she’s still making no moves to grab one of the many weapons littered around the bed so she can finally finish her contract by completing the kill. It would be so easy for her.

The silence of the room is suddenly broken by a tiny buzzing noise. You both glance over at the sound, one that Yoonji doesn’t recognise but you do— the communicator in one of your wristbands, the one you use to keep in contact with Namjoon.

You watch the twisting of Yoonji’s body as she leans over the bed to hook the band with a finger before proffering it to you. You pause, but then grasp her wrist and lightly pull so she ends up pressed against you, softness of her breasts against your own, and you hold the communicator between your faces as you accept the call.

“Thank god you answered.” Namjoon’s voice is obviously frantic even through the tinniness of the small speaker. “Dahye cancelled the contract because Minjae wants to reconcile with her, but apparently he’s already put a hit out on you— tonight was a ruse, Minjae isn’t going to be there, you have to get out of there—”

“Bit too late for that,” you interrupt. Yoonji’s hair is tickling your cheek. “Don’t worry. I have it in hand. Send some flowers to Minjae for me, will you?”

“Flowers?” Namjoon sounds understandably confused. “Why?”

“As a thank you for taking out a contract on me,” you say. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m a little busy.”

“With what?”

“With me,” Yoonji says, and you hear Namjoon’s surprised intake of breath before you cut the line.

You end up laughing to yourself. “Oh, he’s going to hate me for that,” you giggle. Yoonji’s hand trails up your stomach and you continue to giggle at the ticklish sensation. Her skin is still slick against yours, and you suddenly realise how cold it is in the room, the air touching the cooling liquid that’s rubbed off against your skin, and you shiver. “Mm. I think it’s time to clean up. Want me to scrub your back in the shower? I give very good massages.”

Yoonji’s eyes are dark and warm before she presses her nose to your neck, lips soft as they touch the delicate skin of your throat. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

#yoonji x reader #min yoonji #yoonji smut #cypherwritersnet #bts smut #bts oneshot #one day I'll learn how to efficiently use tags... one day #joy.masterlist

[inkofamethyst]

January 20, 2022

Update: math actually sucks and I’m glad to be done with it.  I can say “oh I love problem solving and applying things I’ve learned to new situations” till I’m blue in the face but my true feelings are hiding just beneath the surface and make themselves known as soon as I encounter a problem that is ever so mildly more difficult than anything I’ve done before.  [my sister needed help with test corrections and they were hard (I mean I eventually figured it out but only after giving up lol)]

Okay but,,, Lin Manuel Miranda, am I right?

Listen.  That guy has such a talent for writing musical lines that go on top of one another and build with each other and are separate but flow into and out of one another’s orbits and it’s just kind of incredible.  You can switch between listening to each line individually like changing television stations or you can have them all going at once like you’re listening to four different youtube videos simultaneously but they all line up at certain parts.  Like, I remember doing that one song before the Big Fight in West Side Story and thinking that was cool.  Two summers later I heard Non-Stop for the first time and haven’t been the same since.  We Don’t Talk About Bruno?  Incredible.  I’m sure In the Heights had an example of this too but I can’t recall specifics.

What’s interesting is that concert band/orchestral(/chamber choir too, apparently) music does this type of thing all the time, but the tricky part is the addition of words.  In band, different instruments have different voices, sure, but adding words can make things muddy (I have personal experience with this through singing warmup rounds at choir practices last sem ugh).  Miranda’s music is clean.

Anyway I’m gearing up for next semester (yknow, setting up Notion, clearing out Notability, etc), and I have a look at my schedule and come to find out that I’m taking the less favored prof for both biochem 2 and physics 2 which is lovely (I can tell based on who has the most seats left open lol).  Frankly, I chose to stick with the same phys prof because even though he can’t teach I a) don’t want any classes before 11a this sem, b) want as many of my classes as possible to be back to back instead of having a gaping 2-hour hole between them, and c) got an A in his class last sem despite being frustrated and fed up the whole time so it probably will be annoying but at least it’ll be annoying in a way that I expect.  The only reason I’m taking that biochem 2 prof is because the other one conflicts with my anth class.

Speaking of anth,,,,, I’ve been stressing over the past few weeks bc I couldn’t figure out exactly when the right time would be to send the anth prof an email checkup of like “heyyy I know I’m supposed to TA for you,, are we still cool for that?” because I didn’t wanna be too forward but then it got to the point where I’d waited too long to follow up in my opinion and I was also stressing bc I’ve got the whole imposter syndrome thing climbing up my throat again like bile (you know how it is) and it’s been absolutely paralyzing and the first day of his class is this Tuesday and then today he just goes and sends a casual little email today and is all like “excited to have u as a uta :) also meet ur co-uta she’s been working with me for a bit :)” and honestly that made me feel a little bit calmer.  That’s what I’m thankful for today.  That my fears were unfounded (and that, so far, everything seems to be turning out alright), as they so often are.

Last thing: It’s a crazy thing to be involved on campus.  Over the past few days I’ve received emails from almost all of my major orgs about kickoff meetings and jazz and it’s kinda wild.  That said, seeing the email from the orchestra reminded me that there was one primary goal which I did not complete at all: practicing the concert music.  Not once.  I completed the waistcoat and walking skirt (which I took out for their first spin today actually and it was fabulous (if I get some American Duchesses the skirt length will be perfect)), started on another top instead of the mauve one bc I need to figure out sleeve length stuff (might be able to finish it before I go back), finished my mom’s dress, started Ni No Kuni and Shadow of the Colossus pieces, and started working on my summer plans.  So while I didn’t complete everything, I did do quite a bit, and I’m proud of what I was able to accomplish.

[nancypullen]

Fifty Shades of White

It’s official, I’ve submitted my color to the cabinet painter and there’s no take backs.  On Saturday the mister and I drove into Easton to the Benjamin Moore paint store to study all of the shades of off-white.  As I lined up paint chip cards and looked at them under different lighting, walked them over to the windows, then back to the shadiest corner, Mickey asked, “Can you narrow it down to four?” After another dozen chip cards and some agonizing comparisons, I did. We headed home with sample pots of Cream Linen, Feather Down, Winter Wheat, and Navajo White, stopping at Walmart to pick up some project board in the school supplies section.  I cut up that board and painted sections with each color, labeling them on the back. Then the fun started. I moved them all over the kitchen, trying all four colors in different lighting. Cream Linen was the first to be eliminated.

Different times of day, against the wall color and the floor color (I ignored those ugly countertops because they’re being replaced_ I’d shuffle them and see if I picked the same color each time.  My final choice is the middle color in that last photo - Winter Wheat.  It does have a hint of peach in the undertone, but with the green(ish) walls it works.  It’s the creamiest and that’s what I wanted.

The work starts on February 5th and I. Can’t. Wait.  I have a dream that on the first anniversary of our arrival (May 6th) all of the major stuff will be done. After the cabinets are painted that just leaves granite and hardware.  The ugly carpet on the stars will just have to wait.  If that happens, meet me back here in May for a video tour.  I wish I’d done a “before” video. I can probably find the real estate listing photos.   Anywayyyy, that’s the color and soon the kitchen will be well on its way to being PRETTY.  I received a message that said the cabinets were find and I shouldn’t spend the money to paint them.  I’d like to invite that person to come have a look.  They’re not in great shape and I don’t like the color.

NOPE, these girls need some help.  Just putting a little makeup on them. Speaking of makeup, Sephora sends me fabulous samples all the time. I love it. I have drawers full of samples.  Today I had some morning errands to run so I put my face on and popped a baseball cap on bed hair. I’d pulled a sample lip gloss out of a drawer because I was in the mood to try something new.  I ended up running around town looking like Id just finished a two piece and a biscuit from KFC.  I mean, I like a little gloss, but this is crazy. It’s a Fenty product, I don’t remember the shade, but I think it’s meant for someone younger than me.  I go out looking a little wonky all the time though, so what?  I’m going to try to make it a trend.  We’ll call it Grancy Chic.  Comfy shoes, bad hair, questionable makeup, a bra that has given up - what’s not to love?

Ye gads. Yep, those lips were a mistake, but at least I’m certain of my cabinet color - and that’s a lot more permanent, right? I’ve got laundry chugging, after I toss that load in the dryer and start a load of jeans in the washer I’m going to sit down at my desk.  There are new ideas for jewelry banging around in my head and I also have some cards to make.  I’ve got a dear friend who will need a cheerful get well card and Valentine’s Day is coming. Fun!  Time to turn on a murder podcast and get creative. Sounds like a perfect Tuesday afternoon. I hope that your Tuesday is delightful.  Do at least one nice thing for yourself today, whether it’s a walk in the sunshine or snuggling under a blanket if your weather is gloomy.  If all else fails, buy a new nail polish - that always works. If you’re feeling the winter blahs, check the calendar.  It’s just 55 days until spring!  I’m a winter lover, still crossing my fingers for snow, but I understand those who are longing for the next season. It’s just around the corner.

I’m off to play with clay. See ya’ tomorrow. Stay safe, stay well, stay hopeful.

Nancy

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with MaybeAmanda

MaybeAmanda has been a longtime participant in X-files fandom. She has 29 stories at Gossamer, the earliest being archived there in 1998 and the latest in 2012. I've recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including "Malus Genus" and "Snow in Alabama." Big thanks to MaybeAmanda for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It does, in a way.  The feedback I get nowadays is either of the "I read this like 20 years ago and I just read it again" variety or the "I was too young back in the day but I have been watching the show in reruns/on XYZ streaming service/on the full-series of DVDs I got for $3 from the thrift store and I was THRILLED to discover fanfiction was being written even in the Dark Ages!" So it's a bit of a surprise, but it's a pleasant one. I answer every mail/comment because my mama raised me right!

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

It was great. It was fun. It was educational. It was a godsend. Even with the occasional bouts of back-stabbing and flame-throwing, it was mainly a welcoming, inclusive place to be. I made so many online friends who have turned into meat-friends (do they still call them that? Probably not).  During the first run of the show I had small children and we had relocated for my husband's job.  I had very little social life, but the fandom gave me a chance to meet and connect with people who liked what I liked. Then I discovered online fanfic, and it was even better!

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

ATXC I think.  A lot of email lists - 5 or 6 or 7 or so over the years. Gossamer, of course, Ephemeral when that came into being.  Haven discussion boards. My own websites.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

More than anything?  I am a fangirl.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

I have always been partial to sci-fi and speculative fiction, but it rarely makes it to the screen - large or small - without being trite, clichéd, or just plain bad. It's easy to forget that The X-Files was groundbreaking - smart, scary, funny, insightful, intriguing, complex plots, on-going mythology. It looked great. It sounded great. David Duchovny was pleasant to look at, too, and damn! Gillian Anderson is/was one hell of an actress.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I found XF fanfic - somehow - probably by accident, or by way of a recommendation - and it blew my mind.  I had written fanfic (of a sort) with my friends in highschool, so I was familiar with the beast, but to find what amounted to excellent story after excellent story for free within (relatively) easy reach (because dial-up, right?) written by people who, for the most part, were thrilled you read their story and were happy to talk to you about it, about writing in general, about your shared obsession - that was amazing. As I am sitting here typing this I am feeling that thrill again - discovering Karen Rasch, Madeliene Partous, Paula Graves [Lilydale note: AKA Anne Haynes], Sheryl Martin and all the other early BNFs was, well, the only word is exciting. I felt like I was a member of a secret society and that I was sitting at the popular kids lunch table, all at once. (Don't forget, in the early days, shippers were considered delusional outliers - seriously!)

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Good?   It's not as lively a place as it once was, but I haven't renounced my citizenship or anything. If I get a rec, I check it out. I know there are those who like to pretend they never had anything to do with the fandom, but why? I am still a proud XPhile.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

Angel (a teeny tiny bit) while XF was still running, but those fans were - I don't know the word.  Hardcore does not begin to do it justice. I wrote two short pieces at a friend's request then backed away slowly. Sherlock (a bit) - it is/was very LJ centred and that made it hard to find things. A lot of it moved to tumblr which made it harder, then to twitter, which - no.  I was involved in one of the less fashionable facets of the Sherlock fandom, so I was really a fringe-dweller there, too. It seemed clique-ier than XF, and they all seemed so young, and they all knew EVERYTHING about everything, and every damned thing was political, and, and, and... GET OFF MY LAWN!

But maybe I am remembering the XF fandom wrong. ;)

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Like, all fiction? Mulder and Scully for sure. Arthur Dent. Sherlock Holmes in most of his incarnations. Spock. Winnie the Pooh. Why do I like them?  They speak to me, I guess.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I haven't watched an episode in probably two years (back when it was on regular tv).  Yeah, I think about them surprisingly often.  Story ideas, weirdly.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic?

I finished re-reading The Iolokus Series a couple of weeks back, so yes.  It's excellent comfort reading.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Lots! But as far as authors go, I hate playing favourites. I will miss someone I shouldn't and feel like crap.  The Iolokus Series by MustangSally and Rivka T. is probably my all-time favourite fic because it's so very well-written, and so very fucked-up. Kipler's Strangers and the Strange Dead is also terrifically well-written and clever. For complex, interesting case files, you can’t beat syntax6 - pick any of them.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Oh geez. Seriously? I wrote a lot of collaborations and I love them - and my co-authors - all!  Stuff I wrote on my own: Anniversary Waltz (first XF fic I wrote so it's sentimental.) Or Blue Patches. Or Epiphany. Or The Gifts of the Magi (On a Kaiser Roll). Or 221XF.  Gonna stop now.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story?

Every time I thought I wouldn't, I did. I would never say never.

Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

Nothing finished ever went un-posted. All the unfinished stuff remains unfinished.

Do you still write fic now?

Haven't for a while, but it's not as if I have said "I SHALL NEVER WRITE FANFIC AGAIN!" I just have nothing in the works at this moment.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

With fic, it's usually from canon - some question unanswered, some road unexplored, some "what if?" that needs iffing.  With "original" fiction, damned if I know.  A snippet of overheard conversation, an interesting photo, something a random story generator spit out at me.  Sometimes things just click.

What's the story behind your pen name?

Okay so...many years ago I was on a (smallish) fic list with a friend.  There was a challenge posted - a bad fic challenge. We knew we could write some truly bad fic if we really tried.  One of the rules of the challenge was to post under an assumed name so no one would know who they were voting for. Well, my friend and I wrote something truly, painfully horrid and we were very proud of its ghastliness, so were brainstorming possible pseudonyms. She hated everything but had no real suggestions of her own.  I knew that she was a bit of a Trekkie (like me) and I said - What about Amanda Greyson and Joanna McCoy?  And she said  - What?? Huh?? Why?? And I said - Spock's mother and McCoy's daughter and she replied, "Maybe Amanda is Spock's mother but on Star Trek there is not a Joanna." By this point, I was SO DONE, and I became MaybeAmanda and she became NotJoanna. Really.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

It took years for me to admit it, but yeah, they know.  They didn't entirely get it.  The reactions I most often got were:

"Ew! You write stuff without being forced?? Ew!!"

or:

"Is it smut? I bet it's just smut. You write smut, don't you? Pure filth, right? I can't believe you are wasting your time writing pornography! That's disgusting! You sicken me! Um, can I read some of it?"

And of course:

"If you are going to write anyway, why don't you get published and become fabulously wealthy?"

which is really two questions, neither of which is easily answerable.

Anyone who tracked my work down (because I told them I wrote, but not my pseudonym) usually said something like, "Hey! You're an okay/passable/decent writer! Why don't you get published and become fabulously wealthy?"

Yeah.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Same old email (maybe_a@rocketmail_dot_com). Gossamer, my site, my LJ and probably some other places.  I can't lie - it's a bit scattered.

(Posted by Lilydale on August 4, 2020)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #maybeamanda #xf fanfic author interviews

[waywardimpalawriter]

Hey luv! It's been a long time since we've talked! Hope you're doing fine!

Led astray

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x ReaderRating: PGWarnings: Angst, sadness, being bumped, anger, Seb’s a bit of an ass in this one, curse words Word count: 1,441Notes: Requested by the very lovely @chrisevansthedoritobastard I’m so very sorry it took me over a year to get this written out. But better late than never right? *looks hopeful* Hope you enjoy sweetie. The idea actually came from listening to the radio one very early morning. The local station has a segment called ‘2nd Date Update’ the rest as they say is history.  

Forever:

@winters-buck @angryschnauzer @feelmyroarrrr

 @aquabrie @fandommaniacx  @supernaturallymarvellous  @smoothdogsgirl @becs-bunker

This story: @not-another-fangirl

You’d given it thought, rolled it over in your head for the last few days, asked friends, hell even your sister, all agreed that this idea would come back to bite you in the ass. But you just had, no needed to know and hopefully understand why he hadn’t returned your calls or texts. Sure the same old thoughts came to mind, he’s busy, sick, working or just plain dodging your calls. Enough is, enough you needed answers and this seemed to be the only way to get them.

Though now as you wait for the host to come back your nerves start to get the better of you making you pace the short distance between the kitchen island and stove. Cell pressed between your shoulder and ear, hands wringing like a wet washcloth, till a male voice comes back to the line.

“Good Tuesday morning to ya this is Jason Douglas joined by my cohorts Megan Wright and Michael Masters on 93Q country. It’s 6:45 just this side of the dawn, on a fine morning and we’re bringing you 2nd date update.” There’s a slight twang in his voice while speaking, flipping switches and taking a sip of his coffee. “Morning Y/N thank you for joining us this fabulous morning.”

Clearing your throat, “You’re welcome,” swallowing to try to coat your dry throat once more, “Thanks for having me.”

“So I hear you went on a date a few weeks ago and the guy hasn’t called you back?”

“Yeah, yes,” rolling your eyes at how stupid you sound thinking this may be the disaster everyone warned you about. “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.”

“Don’t be, we’ve had many people call wanting help trying to find out why calls haven’t been returned. It’s only natural,” pops in Megan, voice bright and cheery for how early in the morning it is.

Nodding though no one can see, you’ve finally sat down on a barstool, cell in hand now. “I thought we’d hit it off, the conversation flowed, we laughed, shared things about each other.” Shaking your head not wanting the tears to come and clog your voice. Had you been wrong about him?

“Tell us more about your date and how the night went? Did he seem put out by how the date went? Had you done something to offend him or him, you?”

“NO,” the one-syllable comes out louder than intended laced with a small amount of anxiety. “I mean I don’t think so like I said it seemed to me the date went well. For my part I thought we hit it off from word go. It’s why I’m so confused as to why he hasn’t called me back.”

“Well alright then let’s get this settled and call up Sebastian,” flipping a few more switches, Jason brings up what he needs. “Now remember Y/N you’ll be listening in try not to say anything till I cue you. He won’t know until that moment so if you want answers, you’ll have to be patient.”

Nodding, realizing they couldn’t see you, your voice cracks as you answer, “Understood.”

“And we will get to that call right after a few words from our sponsors,” sitting back the three of them talk while you’re on hold hearing nothing but elevator music for almost two minutes.

Weather finished up and Jason comes back, “Time is now 6:55 and we have Sebastian on the line, welcome sir and good morning to you. I’ve got my cohosts, Megan and Michael with me.”

Both give him a welcome before Sebastian himself speaks, “Morning.”

“Do we have your permission to talk with you and ask a few questions? This is on air and being recorded of course so if you aren’t comfortable with that speak now or forever hold your peace.” a soft chuckle leaves his lips at the corny joke he makes.  

Puzzled and curious as to what the radio station could want, Sebastian gives consent knowing he might get in trouble with his agent and manager later for this. As there are no movies or TV shows to promote at the moment. So that little voice in the back of his mind keeps poking. Saying this could bring trouble to his door.

“Can I ask what this is about? I didn’t win anything did I? Especially since I didn’t enter,” he jokes seeing the confused looks from his friends beside him.

“Well, it seems there’s someone out there that thinks you’re amazing and wanted to let you know. Do you remember going on a date with someone a few weeks ago?”

Thinking over his schedule, everything he’s done in the past few weeks, he remembers one and wants to smack himself. “There’s one that comes to mind.”

“Y/N?”

Sighing, running a hand through his hair, Sebastian steps away from the group to make the call a little more private. “Yeah, that’s her.”

“You don’t sound so happy to hear the name, did something happen?” Megan chimes in.

All the while you’re listening to the conversation trying to keep yourself from interfering, wanting to have this answers to put this behind you.

“No, nothing happened; Y/N’s a sweet girl I just didn’t feel any sparks with her. The thing I regret the most is giving her so much hope by agreeing to the date.”

Shaking his head, Michael speaks, “I don’t follow you, dude.”

Not wanting to sound too harsh but knowing the truth is always better than a lie, “We met at a party one night, thought she was a nice girl that we could have chemistry, I was wrong. We talked on the phone for a couple of nights before agreeing to a date. In that time I learned from a friend of mine that she’s a very clingy person, needy and always wanting to be the center of attention.”

“What the f*ck,” you couldn’t hold back your tongue anymore and let slip a curse word that Jason told you wouldn’t be allowed. “I’m sorry Jason it slipped out.” Breathing deep to regain yourself, “If your friend told you all that about me then why did you even agree to the date you asshole.”

“Yeah sorry Sebastian, Y/N has been listening in the whole time we’ve been talking,” butting in to explain just making sure to bleep the curse word.

Shrugging to himself, “Thought it would be fun, you’re a sweet girl Y/N just not my type is all. Besides you did talk way more about yourself than I did, I couldn’t even get a word in edgewise.”

“That’s a lie Stan and you know it you jerk. Why make up stupid crap like this if all you truly wanted was a good fuck. That’s what it truly was about, man up and tell the truth.” Anger building now as you jump from the stool sending it backwards to pace the floor, “And here I thought you were a better man than that Sebastian Stan.”

“Whoa, whoa there is this true y’all had sex and what that wasn’t good enough for you Sebastian?” Megan asks wondering if they were talking to who she thinks it is.

“Listen she called my cell, no blew it up more like it with calls and texts, every half hour wanting to know when and where we’re going back out. I told her when she left that morning, things wouldn’t work,” trying to push the problem in your lap, making things your fault rather than his.

“You know what fuck you, Stan, your dick wasn’t big enough anyway to satisfy a goldfish,” done with the whole thing you don’t wait for any answers. Instead deciding to hang up on them, grab the pint of Ben and Jerry’s you stashed for times like this and headed to your bed to cry it out over Pretty Woman and other chick flick movies.

Clearing his throat to get the shock out, “Well then, I take it there will be no second date huh?” laughter clearly in his voice as he looks at his cohosts with a shake of his head. “I guess being an actor and trying to find love isn’t as easy as people would have you believe.”

“So not funny asshole,” hanging up Sebastian shakes his head going back to the main part of the gym to finish his workout and forget the stupid call even happened.

“You know they air that shit on the radio these days? Your fans are going to hear it,” one of his friends states a smirk on his lips.

“Who listens to radio anyway?” is his comeback while flipping his friends off to lift weights.

#Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan x reader #request #its been a long time #angst

[maykonguyendaily]

The third season of Hudson & Rex returns on Tuesday with an episode new and veteran fans will love. Entitled “The Hunt,” the instalment serves as the show’s origin story, revealing how Charlie (John Reardon) and Rex (Diesel vom Burgimwald) became partners. Charlie recalls the story to Sarah (Mayko Nguyen) and we view the emotional adventure through flashbacks.

It’s a powerful episode of television, and the perfect kickoff to Season 3. We spoke to stars John Reardon and Mayko Nguyen about the evolution of Hudson & Rex, and what fans can expect this season.

How did COVID-19 affect production on Season 3? Mayko Nguyen: I’m not going to lie, coming out of strict isolation and then being out in the world which you could be out here at that time and then being on set, being around people, it was a bit jarring for sure. But I felt confident in the measures that we were taking. We’ve shot outside a lot more this year. You know, the adjustment of wearing the masks. It’s funny. It’s just like anything else, it takes a bit, and sometimes you have people who are like, ‘Ugh,’ but then it’s like, you’re just wearing a mask. It’s not a big deal. And then you get used to it. Like now I feel weird when I don’t have the mask on. I feel like I’m missing something. So, I think it’s, again, it’s just like any transition, you just get used to it and I think we’re all happy to be there and happy to do it for the sake of getting to work.

John Reardon: I feel very fortunate that we’re able to be working right now. We’ve been working since July, I think one of the first productions in North America to come back. It’s something that we don’t take for granted because the situation in so many places is very tough for people right now. So, it’s pretty special to have people wanting to see the show and being able to keep it going. I’m definitely excited to get it on the air.

The first episode of this third season really, really well done. It was enjoyable to get the true origin story of how Charlie and Rex became partners, even if it was a tragedy that brought them together. MN: We had a screening for the cast of that one episode. I think we do really well with this show because there’s a lot of heart, and I feel like that’s unavoidable when you have a dog who is working to help people, that’s just unavoidable, but that episode in particular … oh man, it’s just gut-wrenching. And you see how Rex and Charlie develop the start of that relationship and that also is … oh, it’s such a good episode and I was really excited when I read it for the first time because it is a departure from the standard structure of our show and it’s a special episode and I’m really glad because of course, of course, we want to know how Charlie and Rex started out, right?

JR: I remember reading that episode for the first time about a month before we went to camera and just thinking how much I felt the audience would enjoy it because they’re going to see the sneak peek of how Rex and Charlie meet and how everybody interacted before Rex was there and then sort of see where that relationship starts. I’m really happy with how it turned out and I think everybody is and so I hope people really respond to it well.

Watching the first episode, I feel like the show has confidence going into Season 3. Do you feel that? JR: Yeah, I do. I definitely feel like I learn more about Charlie every year and I think what’s great is when we have an episode like this and we also have a few other episodes later in the season that has sort of personal stakes or alludes to our characters’ history. I think when we add that stuff in, it helps build the character even more. Things that we might not have known as the actor comes to light and then that adds an extra layer to them. In our very first episode, ‘The Hunt,’ we allude a little bit to how Charlie and Rex met, but when you infuse it with all the heart from that episode and all the scenes that we shot and you create that history, then that I feel that lives on in the future episodes as well. I think it just adds to the DNA of the show.

There are 10 directors during this season of Hudson & Rex. One of them is Tracey Deer. She’s an amazing person and director. What was it like working with her? JR: I hadn’t worked with her before, but she’s fabulous and I really enjoyed working with her. She’s a very intelligent, very thoughtful director, and puts a lot of thought into how really small things can make a huge difference in the tone of the story. She looks at it not just at the macrocosm, but also the microcosm of everything and that’s great because it just gives you more and more stuff to play with. She’s a lovely person and I really, really enjoyed working with her. She’s very talented.

Mayko, what can you say about Sarah’s journey this season? MN: There’s stuff going on in Sarah’s life for sure. I think that that first episode is an example of it, sort of cementing this friendship with Charlie and the rest of the team. But, you know, in that first episode, Charlie lets her in on this very special, private thing that he does, this annual thing that she gets to be part of that, and I think I feel very honoured to get be, to have that shared with me. I feel like every season we’re deepening that friendship and deepening those relationships, I feel and maybe this is what you’re picking up on, but the team does feel that much more cohesive this year and I don’t know how to articulate why or what that is, but it feels much more tight-knit and we’ve got some episodes for sure where we’re working even harder as a team to figure out some of these cases.

Hudson and Rex airs Tuesdays at 8 p.m. ET on Citytv.

#mayko nguyen #John Reardon #hudson and rex #hudson and rex cast #interview