#hoping for the best of both worlds in that this is inevitably a scam but he gets to keep the ranch bc that's what we all deserve | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

incarnateirony · 3 years

Photo

So here we are, The Great Supernatural Rewatch, 01.01 Pilot. If unfamiliar with this rewatch, please check my Objectives and Bracketing post [x], and then my Methodology Notes [x]; Also, reminder that I’m not the only person doing this, though each in their own ways. My Objectives and Methodology are my own.

I’m trying to get a little ahead of the official Jan 3 start date, since I know I will... inevitably fall behind, and this episode was ripe for the initial pick-through for the inevitability of a thousand call backs.

That said, with level 1. SYNCHRONIC: As it reads, unto itself, as best divorced from future knowledge of the story, it’s difficult to do much actual “meta” as much as review and commentary since literally it’s all character and story introductions. There’s some to be had, but beyond things like lighting, the Level 1 viewing tier is not going to lend towards much beyond basic archetypes, and a lot of mythology breakdown. This post will be heaving Level 2 weighted as a result. Most tier-1 posting is going to be an early build of key words, phrases and signs to assemble throughout the season watching (and tap back on later for tier 2 by tagging.)

Also a few unannounced side projects; I’m about to start a “Combat Counter” and “Marksmanship Counter”, to see how Sam and Dean handle both in physical battles/scraps over time compared to each other, and who has the better overall aim in the long term.

Some things saved in this post will seem random and arbitrary, but are potential flags I intend to keep, mostly for later level 2, DIACHRONIC study.

Now to get to the meat:

STUDY: REWATCH/REVIEW STAGE

Allow me to lead with: this episode even unto itself is a fine spectacle of just how much the genre shifted over time. I am a huge fan of David Nutter’s directing; many would know him from, say, Game of Thrones. He didn’t stay long--just Pilot and Wendigo--before moving on. But some of his touches stayed with the show for a few years. The entire ambiance is a giant testiment to survival-horror, a grimness to it, even if the CW itself could never truly capitalize on it. The mood and ambiance was successfully played on. The entire episode is rife with cloudy lighting beaming between bars and through windows, bold silhouette shots, and more that gives an air of mystery even after some characters are established. Dynamic shots are plenty.

Your early reading here isn’t going to tell you much you don’t already know, but is for filing, review, and even reminder/refresher purposes. As the season unfolds, there’s going to be more to interconnect, obviously. If you would like to read more observations on actual parallels, scroll to the DIACHRONIC STUDY header. If I’ve taken a screenshot, even in Synchronic, it’s because it’s a flag I do expect to come back up in diachronic study later and need to catalogue for future parallels and address.

So, imagining it’s 2005, we’re watching Supernatural for the first time. We’re in a very different world, Both in the show, and in the real world. A standard, haunting discord rattles the minds of the audience as a tree moves like a hand towards the window of a suburban home.

We see a classic, nuclear family in this standard home, saying their charming goodnights to an infant. But within moments, we’re told in every classic way that everything is wrong. The infant’s mobile turns on its own accord; the clock stops.

It’s 8:12pm when the world goes haywire. The decorative moon in the room flickers, growing dim. The mother wakes to the sound of a distressed infant on the baby monitor. She rises from bed in her gown.

This is a point I’m left to negotiate cursed knowledge: to all visual cues, the mother’s attire appears to be white. The audience perceived it as white. But we know it, and Jess’ gown later, was actually pink; the film stock failed to capture it. Both short term and much louder in the long term, these two colors can deliver two very different meanings. But for us, a viewer consuming a digital medium with no knowledge beyond what they published, I’m left to decide that the text seems to determine her in a white gown.

The wife sees a stark silhouette, asking if the child was hungry, assuming it was her husband that quieted her. She turns away, tapping on a flickering light over an old marriage portrait that one can only assume was a previous family generation. She descends the stairs.

Here she finds her husband is sleeping. Panic takes her, bringing her to the room. Quickly, chaos erupts. As does she, once seen bleeding down onto the hand of the father from above the crib. We see her, sunken eyes, already dying, screaming without a sound. Silent. Unable to make a noise.

The camera details the desperation of the father rushing his infant to his older child. “Take your brother outside as fast as you can, don’t look back. Now Dean, GO.”

I’m unclear what John thinks he’s going to achieve running back in for Mary as fire takes the home. But soon, he finds young Dean, 4, outside, holding an infant, “I've got you Sammy.” John erupts out of the house as the windows begin to blow, sweeping in to carry Dean, who carries Sam.

As the fire department arrives, the first cords of a song we would later come to recognize as Americana haunt through otherwise chilling music that climbs actively to punch out through our first cold open.

The Winchesters are our first cold open.

We find ourselves in modern day with the rick of a rock cord, and a young woman in a white nurse outfit adjusting her earings while framed by an image of John and Mary--the mother and father--in a picture frame. Though she calls for Sam, we see nothing of Dean--not even a picture. The image on the counter tells of a life Sam(my) was too young to even know, but perhaps is in his blonde-haired woman who teases him about halloween while standing in front of a mirror.

Sam is clearly in his young prime, celebrating his LSAT with a 174 score much to his chagrin with friends dressed up in all styles of wardrobe. Behind Sam a neon black cat sign may just jinx his future in warm but dull lighting; ghostly drapes hide behind Jess in a blue, sharper light.

Sam’s friends perceive he must be the Golden Boy of the family. Jess is proud of him. “What would I do without you?” “Crash and burn.”

Night onsets. Dim lighting feels dusty despite the otherwise hopeful environment. Heavy creaking, groaning, footsteps; Sam rises on instinct, spying an open door and catching haunting noises--sounds. An intruder. And one fateful fight. The choreography spares little.

In actual combat, the intruder--quickly identified as Dean--comes out on top. (Combat ticker: Sam vs Dean: Dean 1) Easy there, tiger. As Dean haunts, revealing his roguish personality quickly, he’s then gotten the better of (this is not going to be considered a combat ticker, it’s not actual combat, but aftermath).

Sam challenges why Dean broke in, but Dean knew Sam would have never picked up without him. They’re interrupted from their silhouetting by the light flicking on, and Dean further displays his roguish charm, enjoying her smurfs, not dreaming of her getting dressed; but soon, it’s down to business--Dean says it’s private family matters. Sam, a unit in the doorframe with Jess, says it can be said in front of her. Until the fateful line: “Dad’s on a hunting trip, and he hasn’t been home in a few days.” The camera zooms on Sam’s set jaw to tell the audience how much weight is in that line as the audio itself drags a raw cord of suspense.

The dizzying stairs are a descent into a world Sam seems to have left behind, with the audience viewing from below. Quickly, we’re introduced to ideas: the Poltergeist in Amherst, the Devil’s Gate in Clifton, “always missing and always fine.” Sam’s bitterness is thick: rather than telling him not to be afraid of the dark, “dad gave me a .45″, though Dean challenges what he should have done. They soon stand in a cage of sharply lit bars, arguing if this was what their mother would have wanted--to be raised like warriors.

Dean challenges if Sam would want a normal apple pie life; Sam slaps back: not normal, safe. “And that’s why you ran away.”--But John told him to stay gone. Regardless, Dean doesn’t want to do it alone. Sam asks what he was hunting, and why Dean wasn’t there; Dean was working a voodoo thing in New Orleans.

Dean reveals Jericho, California--10 men over to years on the same 5 mile stretch of road.

The “Ran it through A Goldwave” is a funny side comment but I’m not gonna get into why beyond LOL “through a goldwave”, that’s-- whatever. But we hear, in EVP, “I can never go home.”

The average viewer, at this point, isn’t going to be deeply instructing the story parallels--and in the scheme of it, Sam’s fear of going home barely scratches the meta surface. We do know John has been missing for three weeks. And find out Sam has a Monday deadline for his entry to lawschool, “whole future on a plate.” Jess worries over disappearing with his family, reminding of the deadline, but he promises to be back in time.

A sharp cut to JERICHO, CALIFORNIA. The driver shares similar concerns to Sam, “if I miss it, dad’s gonna have my ass,” he tells his girlfriend on the phone. A woman in white appears down the road as the car clock fries at 10:17, asking to be taken home. “Take me home?” “She lives at the end of breckenridge road.” “A girl like you shouldn’t really be alone out here.” She hikes her skirt. “I’m with you. Do you think I’m pretty? Will you come home with me?” hell yeah.

They arrive at a dillapidated home. “I can never go home.” No one even lives here. He steps out, turns around, and she’s gone. An eerie handprint appears on the window.

He decides to leave, clearly feeling the offsettling vibes, but isn’t alone. She steams with animosity in the backseat.

He looks into his mirror.

And wipes out.

After a violent death, we cut back to our boys and another exposition: credit card scams (jesus, could sam have yelled it any louder?), breakfast in a gas station bag, you gotta update your casette tape collection--why? because for one, they’re casette tapes. Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica--it’s the greatest hits of mullet rock. “House rules Sammy, Driver picks the music, rider shuts his cakehole.” “Sammy is a chubby 12 year old.” “What, can’t hear you.”

ENTER, JERICHO

Internal impala shots galore will end up being a major vibe of our next few years. A spunky guitar theme plays that we will eventually come to know. Dean pulls out a cigar box full of fake badges ranging from FBI to Bureau of Tobacco from the glove box, quickly showing us how deep this path goes for them already.

The cops review the mystery: no fingerprints, spotless; we find out that the victim was dating the cop’s daughter, who was posting missing flyers downtown. The boys introduce themselves as federal agents, are challenged for being too young, and Dean sasses his way through, “that’s very kind of you.” -- while gathering basic intel, we quickly find Dean’s tongue getting ahead of him, calling their lack of ability to find a connection beyond them all being male victims, calling it crack police work. The brothers’ dual personas exit the crime scene with a cuff upside the head from Sam to Dean, a bickering match, and Dean leaving a Mulder and Scully crack on the cops.

They quickly find Amy, the girlfriend, and lie to claim that were Troy’s relatives and had heard about her, and move to a diner to talk about events.

No major unusual things to warrant events; Sam compliments her necklace. She jokes that Troy got it for her to freak out her parents for “devil stuff”, but Sam quickly educates her on the pentagram meaning the opposite, a symbol of protection.

But there are weird rumors in town--people talk. In-sync, “what do they talk about”; a local legend. She tells them of a girl murdered on centennial where anyone who picks her up disapears forever. The brothers quickly move on to a library with a clunky monitor, fully dating us; not just the lack of good cell phones and wifi, but the equipment and the appearance of the search engine alone. Right, we’re watching this in 2005.

The brothers slapfight again, but Sam shows that even away from the life he never lost his prowess. He asks, “Angry spirits are born out of violent death, right?” and searches for suicide. 1981, 24 years prior. “Our babies were gone and Constance couldn’t bear it.”

So they go to see where Constance took the swan dive.

The brothers begin to fight.

SAM Dean, I told you, I've gotta get back by Monday—

DEAN turns around.

DEAN Monday. Right. The interview.

SAM Yeah.

DEAN Yeah, I forgot. You're really serious about this, aren't you? You think you're just going to become some lawyer? Marry your girl?

SAM Maybe. Why not?

DEAN Does Jessica know the truth about you? I mean, does she know about the things you've done?

SAM steps closer.

SAM No, and she's not ever going to know.

DEAN Well, that's healthy. You can pretend all you want, Sammy. But sooner or later you're going to have to face up to who you really are.

DEAN turns around and keeps walking. SAM follows.

SAM And who's that?

DEAN You're one of us.

SAM hurries to get in front of DEAN.

SAM No. I'm not like you. This is not going to be my life.

DEAN You have a responsibility to—

SAM To Dad? And his crusade? If it weren't for pictures I wouldn't even know what Mom looks like. And what difference would it make? Even if we do find the thing that killed her, Mom's gone. And she isn't coming back.

DEAN grabs SAM by the collar and shoves him up against the railing of the bridge. A long pause.

DEAN Don't talk about her like that.

They’re interrupted as Constance appears, diving off the cliff, and immediately taking control of the Impala.

“Dude, who’s driving your car?” Dean holds up his keys.

They flee, over the bridge, and share another movement. One more fake card later, they find themselves in John’s room, room 10, in a motel. Sam remarks that the place is covered in Salt, and Cat’s Eye Shells. The entire room is covered in case work and lore.

I’ll break down the lore of these in a later mythos reblog, though the Asmodeus one really catches my eye for reasons outside of this episode.

Sam finds a photo-- a distinctly different family than the one on his college dresser. There, it’s John and Mary as an ideal image that framed Jessica. Here, it’s the life he walked away from. But while Dean heads out, he’s spotted by police, and their old coded dialect pops out, “Five Oh, take off.” Federal marshalls confront him: They’re looking for his partner (cue Wincest fans trying to make meta that’s about to be shot down one scene later, in the distance), fake US Marshalls, fake credit cards, is there anything about you that’s Real. My boobs.

Just putting a flag in the name Sheriff Pierce, we’ll figure out if that’s ever valid to anything later. But he tells Dean of the trouble he’s in with a room full of missing people and devil worship, for Dean to snap back he was 3 when they went missing. But they knew he had more than one partner. An older man. John’s journal is thrown out (Wincest meta dies a terrible death beyond previous scene)

Again, I’ll translate the FUTHARK in a follow up post, this is already taking a lot of time as it is.

Meanwhile, Sam is investigating the leads they and John both found. Previously spoken intents to burn her has him ask about her being buried at an old plot by Breckenridge at their old place.

SAM And why did you move?

JOSEPH I'm not gonna live in the house where my children died.

SAM stops walking. JOSEPH stops too.

SAM Mr. Welch, did you ever marry again?

JOSEPH No way. Constance, she was the love of my life. Prettiest woman I ever known.

SAM So you had a happy marriage?

JOSEPH hesitates.

Putting a flag in this for later.

But Sam decides to call the man out.

SAM A woman in white. Or sometimes weeping woman?

JOSEPH just looks.

SAM It's a ghost story. Well, it's more of a phenomenon, really.

SAM starts back toward JOSEPH.

SAM Um, they're spirits. They've been sighted for hundreds of years, dozens of places, in Hawaii, Mexico, lately in Arizona, Indiana. All these are different women.

SAM stops in front of JOSEPH.

SAM You understand. But all share the same story.

JOSEPH Boy, I don't care much for nonsense.

JOSEPH walks away. SAM follows.

SAM See, when they were alive, their husbands were unfaithful to them.

JOSEPH stops.

SAM And these women, basically suffering from temporary insanity, murdered their children.

JOSEPH turns around.

SAM Then once they realized what they had done, they took their own lives. So now their spirits are cursed, walking back roads, waterways. And if they find an unfaithful man, they kill him. And that man is never seen again.

JOSEPH You think...you think that has something to do with...Constance? You smartass!

SAM You tell me.

JOSEPH I mean, maybe...maybe I made some mistakes. But no matter what I did, Constance, she never would have killed her own children. Now, you get the hell out of here! And you don't come back!

Sam is flushed out, and makes a fake 911 call to break Dean out, pointing out that the husband had been unfaithful. More dramatic silhouette shots really capture the early spirit of the piece, with Dean using a phone booth in lieu of other options. Hell, Dean was able to find a phone booth, let that take you back. They determine that John left Jericho, and establish his ex-marine habits with the coordinates, 35-111 that Dean had lied through to the cop. But while on the phone, the woman in white appears in front of Sam on the road, non-crashing.

She controls the car again, and forces him to drive to a broken home, repeating, “I can never go home.” Sam recognizes: “You’re scared to go home.” And that’s when the creepy ghost rapey vibes start, mounting him, demanding he hold her, she’s cold. “You can’t kill me, I’m not unfaithful.” He argues. You will be. Just hold me.

As she goes to rip out his heart, she flickers with the beat of his.

Dean breaks into the scene, unloading 12 shots into the ghost with iron bullets to disrupt her manifestation, giving Sam time to sit up and say, “I’m taking you home.”, where he drives through the house. Dean helps Sam out of the car, only to be telekinetically pinned by a dresser to be disabled.

The lights flicker again. Children manifest, water runs down the stairs, looking eerily like the light could be the Winchester’s old home

Here, she falls when reunited with her children. Sam clarifies--she could never go home, she was too afraid to face her kids (while not viable for the synchronic study, for my own sanity I’m going to note this season, Home will be all but mandatory to touch back here.) Dean says Sam found her weak spot.

They drive down the road with a blown headlight, Sam using an old map and ruler to locate the coordinates. But it’s realized Sam isn’t going with Dean to blackwater ridge, colorado 600 miles away. His interview was in ten hours. Dean declares, “I’ll take you home.”

There’s banter over meeting up later, and being a good team, but Sam goes inside and calls for Jess. “You home?” He finds a plate full of cookies with a note “missed you, love you” and relaxes in bed with the distant sound of a running shower.

And of course.

And so it began.

SYNCHRONIC STUDY: IN-EPISODE PARALLELS

In a first episode, there’s only so much to address. While we may question how much the Woman in White being in White may have been intentional with Jess and Mary, who wore pink (a diachronic full text body note later), in the initial review, it’s worth mentioning for the reasons in part 1 I’ve decided to air towards white in the final text product. Resultingly, the tie between Constance->Mary->Jess seems tangible. But it isn’t really so simple.

“Home.” Home is a huge keyword.

"I can never go home." within the episode unto itself, Sam is struggling to well, get back home. And frankly, returning home is the key of it. (hears distant uppity Wincest stans) The difference here is, this isn't a direct parallel, of course, as much as a general ambient mood that will haunt is forward through the show, even if current viewers just watching episode 1 don't recognize it yet. Sam going home kills Jess, essentially; or at least witnesses her death. At the same time, Sam fears returning to the hunter life, or more doesn't think he can because John told him not to come back. But now that Jess is dead, well, Sam can never go home to the life he was building. He has no choice but TO go back to the other home--the hunter life. Even if he’s certain it’s not what Mary would have wanted for them.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: IN-SEASON PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

There’s no way I’ll have them all in mind, these are just what are flagging me along the way.

1.09 Home As the “Home” rewatch is not that far away, I’m going to save this as a placeholder with general notes about “Mary apologizing to Sam,” even if frankly, she should have to Dean too. But even if, at the time, the exact details of the deal may or may not have been established or hashed out by the authors--we’re not picking at arguing if the authors intended it or not here. Here, Mary apologizes for her deal. Here, Mary apologizes--for drowning her children. For magnetizing this poltergeist to this place that she demands let her sons go, where she forces the spook to let go of Sam. She couldn’t really go home in the truest sense until that passed. (I’ll have deeper chain-link connections on this looking-forward once actually at the episode.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: IN-ERA PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

They’re here, but not pinging me at 1 AM beyond vagueblogging about Lucifer showing up as Jess to haunt Sam and the inevitable time travel episodes about Mary, so placeholder for later updates.

DIACHRONIC STUDY: BEYOND-ERA PARALLELS, LOOKING FORWARD

Obviously compare to above-dropped screenshots.

11.04: Mistakes were made.

Listen, Dean’s grimace seat has been in discussion lately, don’t blame me for thinking of Joseph’s mistakes right after the season as Dean-mirror Pastor Joseph. Funny how Sam’s get shown and Dean’s don’t.

11.23/12.01: Mary’s return in the (white or pink, I’m rolling with white as-above) gown, and all extending details.

12.22: Mary's dreamspace.

12.23: Dean, Castiel's death, Sam removing Dean

15.01: Woman In White, We've got work to do

I feel like the Woman in White is the most interesting of these that hasn’t been as talked to death as, say, the 12.23 elements with the Destiel parallel. After all, the Woman in White largely focused on Sam. It was his fear of home. It was him being faithful to Jess (and being unfaithful can be more than sex, really; after all, he made a promise to come back.) But in season 15, it’s Dean that the ghost of the jilted lover approaches, shortly after Dean nearly killed Jack in his pain. Was Dean the weeping woman? Or was Castiel? Who held the animosity in the back seat?

Or is this a shared path? As Dean puts the Equalizer away under the Cigar Box, he has his own haunting issues in the mirror.

Those will be addressed more deeply when we get to that episode in like half a year. But for now, I’m just putting a pin in it. With a side scribble of “Cas got his Secrets/Mary, Sam got his serial killer and clowns and Dean got... the woman in white with Belphegor.”

15.02: Road Closed

15.03: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink, Rowena’s dress upon wedding and unbirthing to death (and queendom)

15.04: I still think about Jess (shortly before Eileen’s return.)

15.13: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink, atop the eventually-addressed meaning of lighting (death and transformation) vs the Empress symbolism (fertility, rebirth), Castiel in pink light.

15.15: If one insists Mary and Jess’ dress are pink. Amara’s trenchcoat.

15.20: Beyond the obvious quotes, and the (IMO failed) attempt at nostalgia, there’s honestly very little callback to the original episode.

That’s it on first glance, I’m sure more will rattle out as we go forward. Well, mostly. Keys to the Legacy from Mint Condition is flagging me alongside control mechanisms like Castiel losing control of his vessel. But those are thoughts to put pins in for now and develop later.

COMBAT COUNTER:

DEAN VICTORIES: 1 (sam vs Dean)

MARKSMANSHIP COUNTER:

DEAN SHOTS: 12 shots, 12 hits.

(hits for any individual will be considered accurate even if targets teleport/flicker out as long as it should have hit the body)

The mythology pasted all around John’s Room is worth a second trip, but off the top of my head I see the Bell Witch and Asmodeus from the Lesser Key of Solomon (near the motel door).

I’ll reblog later to add commentary on that.

47 notes · View notes

nad-zeta · 4 years

Text

Blind Date with Theo

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Pairings: Theo van Gogh x reader

Genre: Slice o life

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol and also mild swearing☺

Words: 1500

Comments: So this is my first ikevamp prompt thingy lol its probs ganna be shit cause you best know i didn’t proofread before posting lol(˶◕‿◕˶✿) Also sorry to all the dutch people for butchering the language! Hehe lol so after trying my luck multiple time with @readerinsertfanfiction blind dates,🦋 I still didn’t get my man (Damn those dice!) so I decided to write my own self indulging thingy lol! 😳😳😳

Hehe so I am hella excited for Theo’s route, and I just had to participate in this Theo route countdown! Thanks, @delicateikemenmemes for setting up this fun lil party hehe so it goes without saying I am posting this as part of the #Theo Route Countdown Party! Whoop whoop so without further ado....... my interpretation of the prompt Theo and King ❤😳☺

｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ

Sunbeams came streaming into the younger van Gogh’s room. The man groaned as he rolled over to shield his eyes from the morning sunlight illuminating the room. He let out a tired groan as his eyes cracked open to see a scrap of paper containing a neatly written note laying wait on his bedside table.

Sitting up slightly, he reached over and squinted his eyes, trying his best to quickly scan over the contents of the page through blurred vision. He let out a tired scoff as he crumpled up the paper and let it fall to the floor.

He laid back down, and he rubbed his temples letting go of yet another irritated scoff, as memories of his previous night out, had come flooding back to him.

He and Arthur were out together, to their usual pub, drinking and venting about the events that had unfolded throughout the day. All was going well when suddenly Arthur decided to be a little shit and propose a bet. He wore a mischievous grin as he declared for all to hear, “whomever passes out first, loses and has to do whatever the winner says for an entire day.”

Theo eyed Arthur with caution as he contemplated his odds at beating the mystery author. The last thing the man needed was to lose a bet to the flirt. Not even to mention the fact that he has been so busy with work recently, that he hasn’t even spent any time with his dearest pet.

Shooting Arthur a devilish smirk, he confidently spoke up, “you have yourself a deal, you four-eyed pervert.”

The night progressed, and the drinks flowed between the two friends, however, little did Theo know that Arthur had a rather naughty trick up his sleeve to ensure success. Arthur had never lost a bet in his life, and he most definitely wasn’t planning on giving up his winning streak now.

Theodorus sat up in his bed and groaned as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. He looked over to see his dearest companion peacefully sleeping at the foot of his bed. His expression softened upon seeing the cute way the retriever’s legs twitched as he slept. Reaching over, he gave the pup a clumsy pat, all while wearing a tender smile. “Looks like you will have to help me make good on a deal, King.”

Upon hearing his name roll off the tongue of his beloved owner, King shot up and tacked Theo back down onto the bed, showing his face with loving kisses. It was in these rare moments that Theo truly allowed his tough exterior to melt away and reveal his true self. He laughed as he pushed the retriever’s face away from his own, trying to catch his breath. King nuzzled his nose into the palm of Theo’s hand, trying to push past and shower his face with even more kissing licks.

Suddenly the retriever’s attention was stolen by the slither of crumpled paper laying on the bedroom floor. With lightning speed, he hopped off of the bed and started playfully attacking the piece of paper, tearing it up, to make a scattered mess. Theo couldn’t help but affectionately smile down at King as he pulled his finger through his hair, contemplating just how the lightweight shit bag friend of his, might have been able to out drink him.

He clenched his jaw and rolled his eyes as he finally got up to prepare for his fate, as loser of the wager. “Curse that rotten good for nothing thot for scamming me.”

After a long drawn out sigh, Theo slithered onto the floor and reached over to the trunk situated beside his desk, to pull out a soft-bristled brush. The second the playful pup spotted his favourite red brush he was sprawled across Theo’s lap, belly exposed, ready for some attention, “You really are an attention whore, aren’t you.”

King's tail happily swished back and forth as Theo bushed his soft golden fur and showered the lovable creature with attention. Despite not having spent much time with his dear companion, he made a point of it, to at least brush the retrievers silky fur once a day in the mornings. Knowing from experience that the pup would seek attention otherwise from the man, in far more destructive ways. Something his chewed-up leather shoes could attest to.

Theo walked along the Boulevard with King excitingly strutting beside him. King’s long, fluffy tail swished in the air as he excitedly looked around the new environment. Soon the pup’s tail started wagging profusely as they neared the local dog park. Despite having walked around half of Paris with King, it was the first time the pair had visited this particular dog park.

Catching the whiff and sight, of all the new interesting sights and smells in the unknown environment, the retriever’s excitement only grew tenfold. At this point, the pup was so ecstatic to play with the other animals, that he was practically walking Theo instead of the other way around.

King pulled at his owner to quicken his pace, “oi King, slow down, you are going to pull my arm from it’s socket.” The pup never relented once, continuing to push forward with Theo in tow.

Once inside the park, Theo leaned down to release the leash and allow King to run free and expend all his energy. “Try not to cause too much mischief today, buddy.” He ruffled the pup’s fur as he unclasped the leash. The second King was freed, he leapt into the air running off to some unknown direction

Theo could only scoff at his pet’s impatience, although, after watching his beloved companion for a few moments, he couldn’t help but let go of a hearty chuckle. The sight of the retriever bouncing around the park exploring its every corner was simply too cute.

Soon the slight smile that was resting on Theo’s face morphed into his set point scowl, as he spotted the woman he was supposed to meet, on this blind date.

Cursing Arthur once more under his breath, he approached the woman. Out of all the things to be asked of the man for losing the bet, this was by far the worst.

As he neared the woman to introduce himself, King came sprinting back to Theodorus, to show him a cool new stick he had found.

The retriever ran at full speed bounding into the air to slam straight into Theo’s back, causing the man to fall forward. There was no way to stop gravity once in motion, and Theo found himself tumbling straight into the woman’s arms, sending the pair of them falling back onto the soft grass.

Theo stared down at the woman mortified, while his beloved companion decided to ease his master’s anger by showering both his owner’s- and the face of the new stranger with small kisses. Theo narrowed his eyes at the dog, who playfully nipped and licked at the poor woman’s face, while letting go of a little whine in apology.

Before Theo could scold the impertinent pooch, both his and King’s attention was suddenly stolen by the woman trapped beneath the young art dealer.

She seemed to be in a fit of laughter at the whole experience, trying her best to free herself from King’s loving face kisses.

Thankful for the distraction King bounded off into a new direction while Theo was left blushing from the embarrassment. He clumsily got up and muttered a slight apology as he offered the woman a hand.

She smiled a bright sunny smile and shrugged as she continued to chuckle nervously. She gestured for the two of them to sit down on a nearby park bench to which Theo simply nodded, as he tried his best to regain composure.

He was surprised at the spunk of the woman who sat beside him, chatting away without a care in the world. He had tried his best to deter her with his sharp tongue and scowling attitude. Yet she continued to smile and engage with him, meeting his savage words and comments with a charming wit of her own.

By the time the sun had started set, Theo was almost sad to leave the company of this mysterious woman. He leisurely walked beside the her as they decided to do one more slow lap around the park together, before saying their goodbyes.

Suddenly the woman breathed an “oh no” and used Theo as a human shield, upon spotting two excited pups sprinting their way towards the two owners at full speed. Without warning, the Retriever and Labrador duo shook out their sopping wet fur right beside the owners to shower them in an inevitable rain of muddy pond water.

The pair burst into laughter, as both of them were now soaked to the bone, and left to smell like wet dog and dirty river water.

After parting ways with the woman and her pet, Theo couldn’t keep that shit-eating grin off his face. Even King was wearing a broad smile of his own, having finally met a pup who could keep up with his high energy curiosity.

“What do you say bud, should we meet up with those two again sometime?” Seemingly as if understanding his master’s words, King’s tail whipped through the air as he let out an excited bark in response. “Oké dan staat het vast.”

Since then, whenever Theo and King would visit the dog park, they would each in their own way, excitingly approach the gates in anticipation of the fun day that lays ahead.

｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ

Hope yall enjoyed this ☺❤🌻also this is low key part 2 hehe ☺

Part one will be out on day 3 of the countdown! So the day after tomorrow!🌈

#theo route countdown party #ikevamp theodorus #theo ikevamp #ikemen vampire theodorus #ikevamp theo x reader #theo x reader #Eeeeeeep cant wait for this mans route #so freaken excited #Hope yall enjoyed this

78 notes · View notes

calumrose · 4 years

Text

Keep Coming Back || C.H

A//N: My initial intention was for this to be short and sweet, but... that did not happen. I got into a *mood* (let’s call it that) and uh... this happened. This is literal 85% bedroom antics with a little bit of feelings denial that I finished at 4:30am the other night. Let me know your thoughts if you have any, or any feedback, I’d greatly appreciate it!

Word Count: 7.3k

49. “Call me when you get home.”

The morning came by too quickly for your liking. With the fall of the sun, came the rise of the moon, and as quick as she made her debut, she made her departure. With the wave of a goodbye from the glimmering moon, you settled on the thought of the inevitable goodbye you would have to wish to the man who slept in the bed next to you.

It was supposed to be a one-time thing.

But you had lost track of how many times you answered his calls, or he had answered yours, and how you found yourselves tangled in the sheets once again before scampering around the following morning as you left the other’s apartment without as much as a goodbye.

It was supposed to be fun, a harmless bit of fun. But with every time you laid within the warm confinements of his sheets, feeling his strong arm wrapped around your waist late at night, you found yourself hopelessly wishing for it to become something more than just a bit of harmless fun.

You wanted more.

Calum had always been one to disregard the idea of romance, voicing his opinions of it being a scam or something he didn’t believe in. At first you had found yourself agreeing, laughing along with him in the bar on that first night, discussing your trials and tribulations that you had journeyed on in the course of love. But it was that conversation and one too many drinks that led you both stumbling through his apartment door, desperate kisses full of hunger and lust, limbs tripping, and laughter sounding as you fell into bed together.

If only you knew what that was the start of.

Every time you both woke up the next morning, you’d lie together, enjoying the final few minutes of warmth you shared within the sheets before you’d force yourself to get up. Leaving the following morning used to be so easy, but lately it was becoming ever more painful to have to leave, to not know when the next time you would see him would be.

It was known that he was only at the other end of the phone, the silent agreement between the two of you being that it wouldn’t be too long before one of you gave in and called the other. No matter how many times you each said, “This can’t keep happening,”

For two people who wanted to avoid romance and feelings, falling into bed together was the worst idea. Yet, it was one you kept coming back to.

“Morning, sleepin’ beauty,” His voice whispered, lips gently brushing against the skin of your bare shoulder. You felt him place a gentle kiss there, something that he did almost every morning that you woke up together. You couldn’t remember when he started doing it, but it had become something you looked forward to; the innocent sign of affection being something so small that filled you so greatly.

“You mean to tell me we actually woke up before noon for once?” You grumbled against the pillow, eyes remaining closed as you pulled the duvet further across your body, trying to hold onto the little bit of sleep you had left before you would wake fully.

“Who’s to say we actually slept at all after last night,” You could feel Calum’s smirk against your skin, “I don’t think I can lie comfortably after what you did to me,”

“You’re the one who said, ‘don’t hold back’,”

Calum’s laugh was a sound that you never tired of, you hated how much you loved it. It was ridiculous how comforting it was, how comforting it had become after the past few months since you started this little arrangement you had going.

You and Calum were friends, you always had been, always would be - you hoped. That’s what made your little arrangement so easy, you could spend time together before crawling beneath the sheets and acting like nothing happened when you guys saw each other in your friend group.

Things weren’t supposed to be that easy - were they?

Having feelings for your friend - your best friend - had never been something that crossed your mind. It was almost laughable when you thought about it, so you brushed it off, ignoring the thought and treating it like a piece of gum on the bottom of your shoe - disregarded. But the more nights went by that you spent together, the more of a reality that thought became. And you weren’t entirely mad about it… And you hated that.

The mornings carried on like they usually did when the two of you woke up together; quiet yet comfortable. Except this morning seemed different, it seemed a lot more relaxed. There was no rush, no urgency… Not that there usually was, but it just felt slower than usual, as if there was usually something else going on any other time you were there after a night of sinful bedroom antics.

It was as you watched him go about his morning, the memories of every night you spent together seemed to flow through your mind. You tried to curse them, tried to stop them in their tracks but there was no stopping them as they replayed with vivid detail of how you felt, of how he made you feel.

Everything about that man was a sin, you were sure of it. There was nothing he couldn’t do; play the bass, play piano, sing beautifully, bring you to your knees in the most euphoric way imaginable in a matter of seconds. Calum was gifted in more ways than one, but the way his tongue and his hands worked in unison against you was something you’d never forget. There were many a night where Calum left you speechless, hands gripping the sheets so hard that your knuckles turned white, your throat scratching as your body craved for you to take a breath, but nothing came close to how he made you feel last night.

***

The party got out of hand pretty quickly, too many people and not enough space summed it up pretty good. And with the overwhelming number of bodies that seemed to never stop growing, the heat that continued to rise in the room, Calum quickly decided it was time to make a move and head somewhere else, and with the way he had been watching you the entire night, he knew he was going nowhere without you.

You couldn’t remember much of how you came to leave the party. You recalled a warm hand against yours, the touch becoming one you knew all too well, before an set of lips brushed against the shell of you ear with a voice, just loud enough to hear over the music, spoke, “Let’s get outta here,”

The Uber back was a blur, the only thing that stuck out was the interesting music choice the driver had, the voice of some French singer you had never heard of playing quietly as he drove you back to Calum’s apartment. The city lights glowed ambiently as you travelled, the yellow glow cascading over the dark shadows that sat within the car, bringing out a beautiful side of Calum you were yet to see, a side that allowed you to see his true beauty for what felt like the first time.

You had always thought he was a beautiful person, both inside and out, but there was something about seeing him in the dark, seeing the lights that came in through the window as they shown over his face, bringing out the deep cut of his jaw, the fullness of his lips, the shine of his eyes that made something tick inside of you. It was as if the Calum you were looking at was a different person, as if there were something new that you hadn’t seen before.

The journey from the car up to Calum’s apartment was one that was forgotten, one that had zero importance compared to the memory of what happened the moment he closed the apartment door. With the slam of the wooden slab came the slam of your body against the wall, his weight lightly pressed against you as his hands found your waist, palms gliding down the curve of your hips as they slipped behind you and grabbed a handful of your ass, which he had been unable to tear his eyes from the entire night, brown eyes searching yours for the silent acknowledgement of why you were both there.

No words were shared as you leaned in, lips slanting between his full ones, a kiss so desperate and impatient that it was mind numbing. Feet stumbled as they walked aimlessly through the house, legs having minds of their own as they travelled, guiding you both to Calum’s bedroom without breaking your kiss.

Calum’s leather jacket was discarded somewhere in the living room, your hands making quick work of the zipper before you threw it blindly across the room, a teasing, “Won’t be needin’ that,” escaping your lips as he walked you backwards into the room you had grown all too familiar with.

“And you don’t need this,” His words were breathless, fingers tugging playfully on the hem of your top, edging it up ever so slightly as a silent request to remove it. He knew he didn’t have to ask, he knew he could rip it off of you and you’d let him, but still he liked to play with you, liked to keep you on edge just a little bit.

Your breathing was heavy, the warmth of his fingertips barely grazing the skin beneath your shirt, the touch almost feather-like, almost unnoticeable. You wondered if Calum could hear your heartbeat like you could, the thudding in your ears overwhelming as you looked up at him, the swirls in his brown eyes almost hypnotic as you lost yourself in the world that was him for the second time that week.

“Just take it off,” Your quiet voice practically begged, the sentence breaking halfway due to the desperation you were riddled with, the desperate need to have him becoming too much in that moment. He had barely touched you and you were yearning; you knew he had you right where he wanted you.

It didn’t take long for Calum to practically rip your shirt off, a soft chuckle escaping him as it got stuck momentarily on your head, a slightly embarrassed, tipsy giggle sounding from you once you were free, the soft fabric hitting the floor before his large hands slid across your waist.

As nice as it was to be going at the pace you were, you both knew this was too slow. It wasn’t your usual pace, desperation still lingered in the air, and you both helplessly just wanted to feel one another. For a moment, it was almost as if you both wanted to take your time, but there was too much lust in the air for you to ignore your desire to have him against you like before.

Your fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt, a playful smirk playing on the corner of your lips as you reminded him what you thought of his blue and white striped button down, a knowing look in his eyes when you appeared at his door ready for the party earlier that night only confirmed that he knew exactly how you felt about it. The blue contrast against his brown skin was gorgeous, the strong navy only bringing out the bulge of his biceps, his broad shoulders, and never mind the muscles in his back when you caught a glimpse of him from behind. Phew!

It was regarded in the same way his jacket had been when you stood in the hallway - thrown across the room to be forgotten about until the following morning. It wasn’t like he was going to need it anyway. But you were left with the sight of his bare chest, the toned dips and curves of his body practically screaming out to be touched and kissed. Your eyes drank him in, just as his own did with you, both sets of eyes unable to break their gaze with the bodies in front of them, such beauty overwhelming them that you weren’t entirely sure what to do next. You were unable to control the hunger you felt for him, one of your hands curving around the back of his neck as you pulled him down, capturing his lips in another hungry kiss, practically grinning against his lips, feeling his tongue lick the seam of your mouth as he requested access, tongue quickly slipping into your mouth and claiming dominance, which you happily succumbed to.

His hands reached down and gripped the back of your thighs, his strong arms lifting you with ease as he carried you over to the bed, biceps bulging as he held you. You let out a slight squeal as the swiftness of his movement, your empty hand settling on the taunt muscle in his left arm, smirking at how easy he made it seem to hold you - something you hadn’t felt before - as if it was effortless. You felt him pull away from the kiss as he stopped walking, your lips chasing his before you opened your eyes, catching the sight of his brown ones hungrily watching you. He knew you wanted him just as bad as he wanted you. And he was going to use that tonight, he was going to abuse that, you knew he was.

His lips grazed yours teasingly, hunger and game evident in his voice as he spoke, “You’re gonna be a good girl for me, right?”

You were lucky he was holding you; you swore you felt your knees buckle at his words, your body involuntarily shuddering at the thought of what was to come. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip as his words echoed in your ears, you swore you should have drawn blood from the grip you had on the muscle, feeling the pit of your stomach tighten at the sheer thought of what he could do to you in a matter of minutes.

It was as if something stirred within Calum, the sight of your lip caught between your teeth, eliciting a growl to escape him as he practically threw you onto the unmade bed. You couldn’t hold back the giggle that slipped when your back collided with the soft sheets, the sight of him standing at the bottom of the bed igniting a fire that almost cut your giggle short, the flames burning behind his eyes coursed through you, setting you alight in the best possible way.

You felt the mattress dip, eyes glancing down from where your head lay against the pillows, your gaze following him as he crawled up the bed, lips lingering on any piece of skin he could find, his kisses leaving scorching sensations in their midst as he travelled his way up your body. You swore Calum had lips of a sinner, you had always known his lips could ignite feelings you couldn’t describe, and you only wondered how long it would be before it all became too much.

Everything became hazy very quickly, clothes were practically torn off each other’s bodies, fabrics thrown across the room in all directions, no ounce of attention being spared to where they landed. The feeling of his lips against yours dizzying, the feeling on his chest pressing against your bare one was something you never tired of and neither did he. He was warm, inviting, and goddamn beautiful. You wanted to savour every moment he was above you, allowing yourself to drink him in, allowing yourself to drink in the man who made you feel exactly how you wanted to feel; cherished, loved, and down right gorgeous.

Your fingers tangled in his hair as he kissed you, each kiss better than the last, lips locking together as your tongues danced the most intricate tango, your grip on his blond curls keeping him in place, drunk on his kiss and the way he slanted between your legs almost perfectly, as if he were made to fit between them.

It was when he pulled away that a small whine escaped your lips, your kissed muscles chasing his for the second time that night, that Calum spoke up, a soft gruffness to his voice as he licked the corner of his mouth, a smirk curling at the corners of his lips, “Stay there, sweetheart,”

There were butterflies in your stomach at the endearing name; one of many that you had heard slip past his lips over the time you had known each other. You had your favourites, he knew you did, and he was going to use those to get what he wanted tonight. Calum was going to pull out whatever stops he could to make sure you both got what you wanted tonight - each other.

His lips travelled down your body as he moved lower, soft kisses being scattered across your jaw, neck, and chest, plush lips burned your skin while his scruff grazed your skin in a way that couldn’t be described in any other way than delicious. Your head fell back against the pillows, eyes dropping to a close as you basked in the feeling that his lips gave you, your chest rising and falling with every shaky breath you took, your senses heightening at the sensation of Calum’s lips as they travelled down your body.

His plump lips travelled down the valley on your breasts, a gentle almost-giggle escaped your chest as his stubble grazed the soft skin there, but the giggle was cut short when his lips moved and travelled to your left breast, a gasp escaping your lips as they fell open, your hand still tangled in his hair as he paid pleasurable attention the flesh before switching to the other, his tongue poking out to tease you, taunting you in the way he knew best, a gentle tug of his lips against the taunt muscle before he continued his path downwards. You could feel him inches closer and closer to where you wanted - needed - him to get to, your breathing picking up as his lips left searing kisses on the soft skin of your thighs, your soft, gentle gasps sounded in Calum’s ears, his shit-eating grin creasing his face as he knew the reaction he brought from you was one that only he could achieve. That may have seemed cocky but when it came to you - he was.

The anticipation was eating at you as you lay there. You were waiting, waiting for the feeling that you were craving, your teeth nipped at your bottom lip, appreciative gasps and soft whimpers escaping your open mouth as Calum’s lips kissed around your thighs, moving back up to your hip bones before travelling down the opposite leg. He was teasing you; he knew it, he knew he was riling you up, getting you all worked up to the point where you would be begging for him to do something - anything.

You swore Calum knew your body better than anyone could, and he knew that for fact he did, taking advantage of every opportunity to relish in a latest discovery of something new you liked; a specific angle, an adjustment of speed, a simple feather-like touch to a certain spot that had your toes curling.

Calum couldn’t keep you waiting much longer, he knew he couldn’t keep himself away for longer than a few seconds, the arousal seeping from you practically calling out his name, begging for him to devour you. And by the sound you made when he flattened his tongue against your core, he knew you were as eager as he was, as hungry for the pleasure as he was.

His strong tattooed arms wrapped around your thighs, hands spread on the top of your skin, as he kept the separation between your legs, keeping you open for him as he worked his tongue and lips against your body with expertise, as if it were something he had studied for years. His fingertips left small imprints to your soft skin, his grip tightening ever so slightly as he subtly fought against the natural twitch you had to close your thighs.

“Keep those pretty legs open for me, baby,” His voice was like velvet and it only turned you on more.

The sounds you released only spurred him on, the little whimpers that sneaked past your soft lips, the moans that freely left your body vibrated within the room, allowing him to roister in the explicit sounds that came from his own lips as he lapped at you, basking in the way the hand in his hair tightened its grip when the calloused pad of his thumb circled against your clit, the motion quick and messy but nevertheless successful in getting what he wanted, and what he knew you wanted also.

You couldn’t form a sentence never mind literate words with his mouth and hand working against your core, only incoherent sounds and whimpers passing your lips, the high-pitched squeaks and whines only enticing him to push further, pushing for you to reach the sense of euphoria he knew he could give you.

“Fuck, Calum… Calum, Calum, Calum!” It was like a chant, something you had been conditioned to let roll off your tongue, and god, it felt so good. The familiar coil began to twist and burn in the pit of your stomach, your toes began to curl ever so slightly, head tilting further back into the pillow as your back arched as the beginning of your first orgasm teetered in the balance.

Calum never got tired of the sound of his name falling from your lips, the sweet tone of your voice adding a something incomprehensible to the simple name, something that spurred him on further, something that made him want to work you harder, desperate to hear you say his name again, again, and again as you lost your capability to breathe when the pleasure became overwhelming.

Your first release surged through you like a train, Calum only continuing to lick and suck against your core as he greedily drank in every drop he could get. Your body shuddered through the orgasm, the bliss slowly dissipating as it allowed you to feel almost numb, your chest rising and falling with your panting breaths, eyes opening slowly as you looked down to watch him from where he lay between your legs. Calum licked his lips, the grin he wore before still plastered across his face as he looked at you, watching as you lay there breathless, spent, and still wanting more. And, by god, who was he to deny you of that?

The blond curls upon his head were a mess, your hand tugging at them through his endeavour without realising, your focus on nothing but the pleasure you were receiving, the way his tongue worked against you alongside the pad of his thumb causing your thoughts to come to a halt, your body simply becoming a vessel for pleasure, one that Calum controlled.

Calum slid his way back up your body, grin never faltering on his kissable lips, as he made his way back up to you, lips brushing against your collarbones and jaw before they reconnected with your own, a hungry, yet slightly softer, kiss being placed against them. You moaned as you tasted yourself on him, his boyish chuckle sounding from between you as his hand cupped your face, thumb resting against the apple of your cheek as he kept you there, pulling you in for another kiss, and then another.

It was throughout the distraction of kissing, you hoped Calum didn’t notice your hand wandering, silently hoping he was too lost in the moment to acknowledge how your hand slipped from his shoulder, fingertips dancing against the waistband of his boxers, itching to pry them open and free the growing erection from them. You both wanted it, you both were hungry for it, which is why it confused you when Calum grabbed onto your wrist, putting a halt to your movements and pulling your hand away, a quiet tut coming from the click of his tongue as he looked down at you. His eyes were on fire, the dark brown now warm as he stared into yours, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he gently moved your hand so it lay next to your head, his fingers still wrapped around your wrist, holding it there even though he knew you wouldn’t try it again.

“As much as I would love to feel those pretty little hands around my cock, I don’t think I’ll last if I let you touch me like that,” Calum spoke almost breathlessly, voice low as his lips remained simply inches from yours, the soft skin almost brushing, tempting you to reconnect your lips once again. “Maybe next time, doll,”

Next time… There was always a next time.

Calum reached into the bedside table, fingers making a quick effort to find a condom before plucking the piece of foil packaging between his index and middle finger. He sat back on his knees, tearing the foil open and removing the piece of rubber from the packaging, eyes staring down at you as you lay there in front of him, legs spread, completely open and his for the taking.

He moved to hover over you once again, holding himself up with his arms as he gazed down at you. You swore there was something different in his eyes again, something that swam within them that was different compared to the other times you found yourselves in this position. You just couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Calum leaned down, nose brushing against yours, as he pressed a soft kiss against your lips, a sensation that was completely different to the kisses you had shared in the build up to this, as he let out a low, “Ready, baby?”

You didn’t have to speak for him to know you were ready. You leaned in and kissed him again, fuelling the kiss with the surging fire and hunger you had for the moments like this that you shared with him, the moments between the sheets that no one else knew about, the moments between the sheets where it was just the two of you, where no feelings existed, where it was just sex.

Just sex. It was just sex. Right?

Calum returned the kiss, the knowing smirk once again making a comeback as he swallowed the moan that escaped you as he slid in, filling you completely, adding a quick, “Don’t hold back this time,” with a soft chuckle. Calum almost hissed at the way your nails dug into his back at the movement, the gentle sting against his skin turning him on a little bit more, adding to the burn that he felt in his stomach when he stared at you.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and you swore Calum would be able to hear it and feel it with how close he was, your skin was on fire as Calum’s hips moved at a pace that could only be described as mind boggling, a pace that made you gasp, a pace that made you feel the need to steady yourself, one hand clutching onto his back while the other grabbed onto the sheets, tugging on them sharply. You didn’t even register the rushed collection of words you made to him, although he wasn’t sure if it was a request or if you were telling him when you practically begged, “Fuck, Cal… Fas- Faster please,”

Calum’s hips picked up the pace without a second of hesitation, the sound of skin slapping against skin practically commanding the room as it echoed within the walls of his bedroom, the sound of your moans and Calum’s groans mixing into the echo in such a way that it would be considered a sin in itself. You could hear the bed creaking every so often with Calum’s thrusts, too distracted with the way he felt inside of you and the way he looked above you to care. You were too lost in one another, too lost in the feeling of each other, and how he moved and felt inside of you with a rhythm that had your mind tripping over itself.

The sharp scratch of your nails against his back urged him to keep going, his skin was on fire as he thrusted, his body relentless as it pushed and pushed to get you both where you so desperately wanted to be. You were astonished by how he felt, unable to comprehend how every time it still felt so good, how every time he slid in and out of you, it felt like nothing you had felt before. Every time he buried himself inside of you he felt like he was always meant to be there, as if you were made for him, a perfect piece of the puzzle he couldn’t find anywhere else.

But he just couldn’t tell you that, couldn’t bring himself to make that confession. Not now.

Calum’s face fell to the crook of your neck, stubble scratching against the soft skin as your hands found their way once again to his hair, settling at the back of his head as you tangled your fingers amongst the curls and lost yourself in the sheer pleasure he was giving you. You were panting, breathing laboured and weak as you tried to catch it, the pleasure with every thrust that Calum delivered was becoming overwhelming, literally taking your breath away as he moved. Your head fell back against the pillow, eyes staring at the ceiling before they fell closed, losing yourself completely to the pleasure that was building, that was coursing through your entire body at the feeling of him. With every thrust, every jolt, every rhythmic connection that your skin made, it felt as though you were stampeding towards the edge, Calum’s body bringing you to the blissful end that you both had anticipated since the very beginning.

Your lip became caught between your teeth once more, your legs rising up as they wrapped around Calum’s hips, his hand finding the back of your thigh as he held your leg against him, whimpers stumbling from your lips which only transpired into audible moans as you both chased the high that you craved. You felt his lips against the skin of your neck, the plump flesh leaving sloppy open kisses against the side of your throat, teeth coming into play every few seconds, nipping at the soft skin, slowly working his way to marking you, knowing the slow process would only heighten your senses as you crumbled around him.

“Shit, shit, shit!” You whined, throwing your head back harshly against the pillow as the knot in your stomach tightened, practically ready to burst at the sensation this man was providing. God, he felt so good, and you felt so full.

It all just felt so good, you didn’t want it to stop, you didn’t want this moment to end, you wanted to have it forever, to be with him like this, practically numb to anything but the pleasure he provided, to feel his lips lazily kissing your skin as he moved inside of you. Every time you shared a moment like this, it was a bittersweet reminder of the fact that this was all you and him had.

Sure, it was great. But it wasn’t enough.

It was just as you were hurtling towards the finish line, you felt him begin to slow his pace, his hips still moving but slowing to a more teasing rhythm, one that he knew would get you even more worked up that what you had been for the past however long you’d been stuck in his bed.

Calum removed his head from the crook of your neck, a soft kiss being left in his wake as he sat up, a shaking arm supporting him from the side of your head as he looked down at you, full gaze set on your face, his breathing heavy as he swallowed at the sight of you.

“So pretty like this,” He quietly groaned, his other hand slowly sliding up and cupping your face once again, thumb tracing over your bottom lip before his palm slid down past your chin, large hand finding the column of your throat as he rested the smooth skin of his palm against it, fingers splayed on either side, as his eyes seemed to turn almost a shade darker, “But did you really think I wouldn’t make this a little fun for me?”

Your eyes wanted to roll to the back of your head in pure ecstasy at the feeling of his hand on your throat, a teasing yet soft hold he had on you was more than enough to have you seeing stars. He added a little pressure to where his hand was resting, smirking at the reaction it enticed from you, knowing that you loved the hold he had on you just as much as he enjoyed the reaction it gauged.

“Good girls answer when spoken to,” Calum’s voice sounded almost authoritative, and fuck, it sounded so hot, “I thought you were my good girl, huh? Or was I wrong?” He was toying with you yet again, knowing the effect all of this had on you, knowing how this affected your body. You were already crumbling and this was setting you up to self-destruct, and you were more than willing to let it happen under his hands.

When he didn’t get the response he craved, he squeezed once more, adjusting his hips as he moved forward, sheathing himself completely within you, watching as your body reacted to the invasion. He felt you clench around him, a soft groan sounding almost strangled as it snuck past his lips, a soft whimper sounding from the back of his throat at the sensation he came to crave in the quiet hours of the night when he didn’t have you.

“I didn’t hear an answer,”

“I’m…” You whimpered, swallowing the lump in your throat as your body practically shook from teetering on the edge of breaking point, your entire body desperate to release but you knew only Calum could get you there, you knew you wanted him to. “I’m yours… I’m your goo- good girl, Cal,”

“That’s right, pretty girl,” Calum leaned forward, hand still splayed across your throat, nose brushing against yours as he leaned in, swallowing your gasp as he moved within you again, picking up his previous pace as he kept close to you, lips overpowering yours with ease as he thrusted in and out of you.

His pace continued as you both raced to the finish, bodies becoming spent and Calum’s hips were becoming tired but that didn’t let him slack. He continued his relentless pace, knowing fine well that he was going to make you release for a second time that night, maybe even a third if he felt lucky, but he knew he wasn’t stopping until you felt the high that you had been chasing since the start of the night. The real high.

Your eyes fell closed as he moved, your breaths becoming shallow and short as your body prepared itself to succumb to the overwhelming pleasure that was seconds away from washing over you.

“Nuh uh, baby girl, I don’t think so,” Calum’s voice spoke through shallow pants, a light sweat glistening his forehead as he looked down at you, his hand on your throat squeezing gently, almost causing you to become dizzy at the sensation that you craved, “Open your eyes for me, I wanna see how pretty you look when you cum,” His words were enough to make you orgasm right there and then, the soft rasp in his voice being something that worked wonders, his tongue a beautiful instrument with many talents, “Let me watch as you fall apart around me, yeah? You gonna cum for me?”

That was all it took. A simple opening of your eyes, finding his brown above you, and you were crumbling right there in front of him. Your breath caught in your throat, your legs shaking as your entire body practically convulsed at the overwhelming crash of pure pleasure and ecstasy that coursed through you. You swore you could see stars as he continued to thrust into you, allowing you to ride through your high as your body lost itself to the pure euphoric buzz your orgasm provided you with, your moans never lowering, whimpers sounding as Calum chased his own high, using your body as his way to get to the same breaking point you were basking in.

It didn’t take long until he was there, hips stuttering against you as his arm shook, the limb giving out as he fought to not put his full weight onto you as he came into the condom. You made him feel just as good as he did to you, and although you knew you were the main receiver in the pleasure of the evening, you were comfortable in knowing he received just as much pleasure as you from giving.

You panted softly as he lay on your chest, both of your eyes were closed as you engulfed yourselves in the post-sex bliss that clouded you. You weren’t sure how long you lay there together, tangled in Calum’s unmade sheets, a light sheen of sweat coating both of your bodies, but neither of you wanted to move. You wanted to stay there tangled with one another for as long as you could, basking in the sweet bliss that the activities of your night had provided you with.

If only the morning didn’t have to come around.

***

“You got everything?” His voice could be heard from where he stood in the bathroom, the rich sound slightly muffled due to the distance from where you stood at his bed.

You were packing your bag; a classic sight after a night at Calum’s, but usually he wasn’t awake when you were doing it. You’d usually have it sorted before he would wake up, making yourself scarce as you slip back home without a word being said to spare the risk of any of your friends finding out about yours and Calum’s situation.

“Considering I only had the clothes I came in and my phone, yeah I’ve got everything,” You chuckled, arms crossing over your chest once you had zipped up your purse, your boots clicking softly as you took a step back by the side of the bed. Your hand naturally reached over and stroked Duke’s soft fur as he padded over the bedsheets, Calum having lifted him up onto the bed before he disappeared into the bathroom so he could keep you company.

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to forget something, amazin’ things happen everyday, doll,”

You just rolled your eyes at his remark, unable to hide the turnup at the corners of your lips at another one of his nicknames. He had plenty, and he threw them around openly wherever you were. No one suspected anything, it had been a simple term of endearment since you became friends. It was natural. It was right.

Calum eventually joined you back in the bedroom, eyes watching as you slid your jacket on, slipping your phone into your back pocket, before you picked up your purse and threw it over your shoulder. He followed you through the house, knowing this was your departure, unable to deny the slight twang that struck his chest at the sight of you going. He never liked seeing you leave, even before this little agreement, when you used to come over and hang out with him like the good old days, and you’d leave at the end of the night, he didn’t like it then, but he hated it even more so now.

“This is where we say goodbye huh?” You chuckled, hand resting on the door handle, slightly turning to your side so you could look at him with ease. He looked tired, you noticed, his blond curls were growing out and the dark brown was peeking through, the bags under his eyes were still there from having woken up, and his lips were still slightly swollen from the night before. They still looked kissable, and you had to fight your want to kiss them again, being able to vividly recall how soft they felt against your own over the course of the previous night.

You knew you had to go otherwise you’d find yourself back in between the sheets, unable to force yourself to decline another night like the last. It would happen again, you both couldn’t deny it, no matter how many times you had both discussed ending things, claiming you were getting ‘too old for games’, you still found yourselves coming back to each other within the span of a few days.

“Call me when you get home, okay?” Calum sent a friendly wink in your direction, smiling that same stupid smile he always did.

It had become a little thing he requested every time you saw each other, every time you departed when you would spend time together. Even at the very beginning, helpless laughter exchanged as you walked the late-night streets together when you first met, Calum always asked for you to let him know that you got home safe.

And what kind of friend would you be not to appreciate such a sweet request from a man who literally radiated such a kind nature.

“I’m a big girl, Calum, ‘M pretty sure I can get myself home safely,”

“Just wanna make sure,” Calum chuckled, his smile slowly dropping back into his smirk from last night as he added, “Gotta take care of my good girl, right?”

“See you later, Cal,” You shook your head, scoffing with a laugh as you opened up Calum’s front door, and escorted yourself out.

It wasn’t until you closed the door behind you and found yourself sitting in your car that you let the sigh that was sitting heavy in your chest finally escape.

You did it again. You didn’t tell him. How many times were you going to torture yourself and not say anything? You were just hurting yourself time and time again the longer you kept this game going, the longer you continued to run back to him to feel something that you weren’t even sure you understood.

It confused you to an unknown extent, but what you didn’t know was that the same matter confused him too.

He was sitting right behind the front door you had just left through, questioning the exact same things you were. He hadn’t told you either, unable to voice his confusion of what he couldn’t understand. Calum didn’t understand what it was about you that he liked so much, what it was about you that made him tick, what gave him that stupid toothy smile that he was unable to hide whenever you were around.

There was something special about you, and he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. It made him feel something he hadn’t felt in a long time, there was a sense of comfort he felt whenever he was with you. Having you around felt right, it felt like you belonged. But how could that be possible?

For a man who believed love was nothing but a scam that led to emotional turmoil, how was he supposed to try and understand his feelings for a girl who he couldn’t imagine not having in his life? Would Calum be willing to overlook his detest for romance, for that bond that two people can share, in the hopes of finding it with someone like you?

What was he saying? He thought he sounded crazy; thinking all of these thoughts about you when he was sure you wanted nothing of the sort. This agreement you had worked for the both of you, you got your fix of a physical connection, you got hang out, and that was it. That’s all it was, right?

Or was it destined to be something more?

---

Again, any thoughts or feelings about this kind of piece would be greatly appreciated! I’ve only written and posted one other piece of smut in my life so any feedback on this would mean a lot. I might do more, depending on how this is received. Thank you for reading if you made it to the end of this!

From this prompt list

Tag List: @steviemae @elsysoza @treatallwithkindness @oopsiedoopsie23 @loveroflrh @another-lonely-heart @zhangyixingxing1

176 notes · View notes

moon-in-daylight · 4 years

Note

heyy! love your fics! i've seen you take requests so i'm testing my luck here. can we please get a dhawan!master x reader fic where reader is forced to pilot the tardis (like reason w her or link with her telepathically idk) to get the master to a hospital as he's passed out and kinda dying? like some angsty action that turns out fine in the end, please? thank you

Dispensable / Dhawan!Master x reader

Summary: You’ve always felt safe by The Master’s side, but when he endangers himself to save your life, you start wondering if his efforts to protect you are really worth it. Especially now that his life depends on you learning how to pilot a TARDIS.

Words: 4.6k

Warnings: Blood, weapons, injuries, insecure!reader, a little angst maybe.

A/N: Anon, I’m sorry this took me so long. I’ve just been out of inspiration lately and this is what came out after a month of writing. I hope you still like it though 💖

It wasn’t unusual for The Master’s plans to go terribly wrong sometimes, as it wasn’t unusual that you regularly got hurt in the middle of your adventures as a consequence.

Luckily, it was nothing too serious most of the times. Maybe you would get some scratches while running on the quiet days, some scars on the most serious days when you had to face some extremely angry alien civilization… And, in the worst scenarios, you had almost encountered your reaper face to face.

It was inevitable to suffer some unfortunate accidents while travelling inside the TARDIS. You knew that from the very start, that your least developed anatomy would barely be able to follow a Time Lord’s way of living, especially one’s with so much love for chaos and destruction. You were well aware that while you travelled with The Master death would always be keeping an eye on you. Yet, you gladly took the risks that staying in his ship entailed.

From the first moment you had stepped a foot inside that console room, you had known there would never be a way of turning back to your old life. Not after seeing the things, places and eras he could show you with the simple pull of a lever. At first, the main reason you stayed with him was the time travelling.

Though it was extremely dangerous and you feared The Master could abandon anytime and anywhere when he got bored of you, you decided to endure his rage filled words about your species and his several rules on how you should behave to try and get him to show you the stars. He wasn’t an easy person to deal with, but you had grown to both love and deal with him, and you liked to think he had done the same with you too.

After more than a year aboard of his ship, you trusted him almost blindly, confident that he would do anything he could possibly do to try and get you uninjured of the deadly situations you faced daily.

He was way more gentle and caring now than he was when you first met him, though that was something he would never admit out loud to you. But his change of behavior was evident. You noticed it by the little thing. By the way he always kept an eye on you when you were outside of the TARDIS, on how he threatened anyone that seemed barely interested in hurting you… He almost seemed a different person now. He even took care of your wounds when he couldn’t prevent you from getting hurt, and making sure you got the fastest recovery possible instead of leaving you to deal with them on your own.

You supposed he had gotten used to having a ‘human pet’, and that he took the trouble of taking care of you mainly because he didn’t want to have to take another human in his TARDIS to replace you if you were ever missing. Too much inconvenience to have to take another pet now that he had finally grown somewhat comfortable with your presence… Either way, and despite the many risks you faced time and time again, you always felt save by his side knowing that he wouldn’t let you die that easily.

While being by his side, you barely could remember what fear felt like.

That was, of course, until you found yourself in the worst situation you could have pictured.

The day had started as any other, with The Master taking you to New Earth in the middle of the First New World War, following your request of wanting to know more about the future of your species. The Master had told you repeatedly that humanity’s history was not worth seeing, that they were little more than amoebas. But your curious self had insisted him so many times about wanting to see your future that he had eventually given in.

You didn’t exactly liked what you saw there. The cruelty, the hatred that your own race processed against their own… The senseless death and unnecessary barbarism between those of their own blood… The Master had warned you that it wouldn’t be pretty, but considering the fact you were already used to face every possible form of chaos by his side, you had been sure that nothing he could show you could be worse than the damage you had already seen him cause to distant planets and civilizations.

Now that you ran for your life in the middle of an open battlefield, hand in hand with The Master as he tried to guide you to the safety of his TARDIS under a never-ending rain of bullets, you realized your mistake. You had never imagined a war could be so bloodthirsty, so atrocious… The Master hadn’t said it, but you were sure he was jealous of the destruction and despair caused by your species.

The two sides of the conflict were ready to do anything to get even the slightest advantage over their enemies, and of course, The Master had decided he should turn such horrible situation in his favor. He had manipulated both, the leader of the resistance and the supreme general of the new Earth’s forces, to make them believe the other would throw an offensive in the middle of the night. That way, while everyone fought to death in the middle of the battlefield, you and him could sneak into each side’s bases and steal whatever could be useful or valuable.

The Master’s plan was executing itself perfectly, to the point where it was all being too good to be true. Everyone had seemed to believe him and, though you were suspicious that things were never that easy with him, he appealed to your specie’s stupidity to justify the fact that no major complications had met your little scam. If everything went as he had planned, you would be in and out of each fortress in barely ten minutes, with your pockets full and the armory of the TARDIS completely renewed with new nuclear weapons. But just when the both of you were emptying the armory of the rebel band, two guards caught you red-handed.

Apparently, before indulging their soldiers into a bloodshed battle that would likely finish all live on the planet, the leaders of each side had decided to make things the diplomatic way. And for the first time in a very long time, they had decided to unite forces against a common enemy, you and The Master. You would’ve been proud of them, had your life not been in such danger.

Now, getting yours and The Master’s head was top priority to every living being in that planet, and you almost doubted you would be able to make it to his ship alive.

You had ran alongside The Master from angry crowds hundreds, maybe thousands of times now, but never before had you felt so trapped. The TARDIS was somewhere nearby, and every step you took closer to her was a sigh of relief that left your already tired lungs. Bullets and all kinds of projectile weapons were thrown in your direction, and The Master had to keep you even closer than usual to his body to prevent you from getting hurt.

When the disguised aspect of the TARDIS finally met your eye, you thought you had never felt happier in your life, but your legs were beginning to get tired and you felt yourself losing all the strength in your body, struggling to stabilize the rhythm of your breathing.

One last push, you repeated yourself internally as you forced your body to not give up, to resist until you could collapse on the safety of the TARDIS’ ground.

With every passing second, you could see your destination getting closer, but that little time felt eternal as you did your best not to lose focus and sprint those last meters for the sake of your life.

You only let go of The Master’s hand so you could extend your arms to push the TARDIS’ doors open, get inside and quickly close them after you. But the only thing your hands laid on was the ground as you tripped and fell only a few steps away from the ship.

Your heart sunk in your chest as your bad luck struck in, realizing that you didn’t have enough time to stand up from the ground before the hordes of soldiers reached you, probably killing you instantly. This time there was no way out, and you closed your eyes while you met your unavoidable fate.

This wasn’t a bad way to die, you supposed. You hadn’t lived too long, but you had lived your life to the fullest, running away through the stars with a psychopath alien and visiting places most of your kind couldn’t even dream about. You were at peace with yourself, suspecting that The Master wouldn’t be too affected by your loss and knowing that you had already lived longer than what could be expected of such a fragile being living such a dangerous life.

You were ready to let the rest of your body hit the floor and say goodbye forever, but then The Master’s hands gripped you tight from each side of your body and pushed you up and forwards, giving you the last boost you needed to reach the TARDIS’ doors.

“What are you doing?!” His angry tone reprimanded you as he positioned himself behind you to shield you from your persecutors. “Run!”

Taking The Master’s hand in yours again, you finally made it to the insides of the TARDIS, the comfort of the familiar console room greeting you as she hummed happily at your arrival. As soon as the doors closed, you threw yourself onto the Time Lord, surrounding him with your arms to pull him into a victory hug, or more a thankfulness hug for having saved your life seconds earlier.

You squeezed him tight as you let fear crawl out of your body, starting to feel safe again by his side. For a moment you had truly believed he wouldn’t turn back for you, that he would simply get inside his ship and forget about the fact you had ever existed. But now, after watching him risking his own life to save yours, you realized there wasn’t a single place in the universe where you could really be endangered if you were with him.

As your breathing calmed and you stopped hearing the throbbing of your heart buzzing in your ears, you heard him hiss slightly at the same time you felt the lower part of your torso dampening. Getting away from him, you discovered your shirt was covered in blood, and immediately, you lifted it up to find there was no wound underneath.

Looking again in The Master’s direction and finding that his belly was also covered in the thick liquid, you didn’t let him time to say anything before undoing the lower buttons of his shirt and discovering a bullet wound on the right side of his torso.

Blood was quickly coming out of it, and you were quick to tear the lower side of your shirt so you could use the fabric to press against the bullet hole and stop the bleeding. You had always seen that work in movies, but the material was soon soaked and you realized you couldn’t stop him from bleeding out when you found a second wound a few centimeters above the first one.

“You’re going to bleed to death…” Fear was starting to form in the pit of your stomach as your mind rushed trying to find a solution to the mess developing right in front of you.

“Don’t exaggerate.” He said, as if he had just gotten an insignificant scratch. “I will be fine.”

“No.” You shook your head, taking some piece of clothing you had left in the room earlier and placing it over his belly in hopes it would do something more than the piece of fabric you had used earlier. That didn’t seem to stop the bleeding either and you started to become more and more desperate. “You need to regenerate.”

The Master frowned at you, and then you realized the weak state in which he was. In normal situations, he would have look way more threatening and powerful with the simple act of just lying his eyes on you. Now, looking at the titanic effort he put in simply trying to stay awake was enough for you to pity him.

When you thought of The Master, many adjectives came to your mind, but pity had never before been a word you would’ve use him to describe him.

“I’m not going to regenerate for something so stupid.” He immediately refused, and you cursed him internally as you guided him to the nearest couch, hand still pressing on the side of his body as you helped him sit down as comfortably as possible.

“You’re dying.” You tried to reason with him, but his stubbornness was too much to handle at the moment. He didn’t say a thing as he let the weight of his body collapse on the piece of furniture, and you watched him in desperation. “Please, just do the goddamn thing!”

You pressed the fabric in your hands harder against his wounds, wishing that he would listen to you for once in his life. When you got no answer from him, you lifted your stare to his face again, realizing he had lost consciousness.

“No, no, no, no...” You muttered as you shook his body slightly, trying to get him to wake up. “Wake up, come on. Just wake up and regenerate!”

Seeing that he wouldn’t respond, you immediately decided to check for his heartbeat. Or more correctly, heartbeats. Placing two fingers on the side of his neck, you found that the rhythm of his two hearts was starting to get very similar to the one your single heart made, and then you realized just in how much danger he was.

You were no doctor, but he had already lost a lot of blood. If you did nothing, you feared he could be dead in less than a few hours.

You had been under The Master’s care and protection for so long that now that you were the one that had to look after him, you felt completely helpless. How were you supposed to help him? All you knew about Time Lord’s biology was that they could regenerate when in life or death situations, and he had refused to do it, so you were out of ideas.

“Please, help me…” You felt your eyes watering as you cupped his face in between your hands, shaking it from side to side slightly in yet another attempt to bring him back in himself and get him to help you save him.

You didn’t get any response from him, but you heard the TARDIS humming intensely at you. And you felt relieved to at least have received a single answer to your plea, even if it was by some piece of seemingly inanimate, alien technology. Turning your head to the center of the room, you watched the console lights flicker as she indicated you to get closer to the controls of the ship. Understanding what she wanted you to do, you looked at The Master one last time.

“I’ll never forgive you if you dare to die on me.”

He looked as calmed as you had ever seen him, eyes closed and facial expressions completely relaxed. Your last thought while looking at him before rushing to the controls, was that you wished you could see that serenity in him more often, in better situations that the one taking place now of course.

Placing yourself before the buttons and levers of the console, you found yourself completely lost. You had seen The Master piloting the TARDIS billions of times, but looking down at the controls you couldn’t recall any of the movements he made while doing so… Was it really that hard to show you how to pilot the TARDIS? Hadn’t he thought it could be useful in a situation like this one? And why couldn’t you have a better memory? How could you have seen him doing so many times and not have the slightest idea of what to do?

You searched around the console in hopes of finding a piloting manual, some instructions, or at least some note handwritten by the dying Time Lord that could give you some clue on how to put the time travelling ship in motion. But when you found nothing and realized you wouldn’t even know when or where to take the ship to if you knew how to pilot it, you started to feel impotence taking over you.

The Master was dying because of you, because he had stopped to help you, a simple, useless human. And you weren’t able to do anything to help him, to make things right. You were the one dying, not him.

Feeling the lump forming in the back of your throat you wished you could turn back time and stop him from helping you get to the ship.

How ironic was that? You were inside a time travelling machine, desperate to go back in time, and you simply couldn’t. You had never felt so small and worthless in your whole life as the tears started to fall down your cheeks.

“I don’t know what to do…” You looked back towards The Master, his unconscious body laid on the other side of the room. Your eyes examined him with an apologetic look for a few seconds before the TARDIS’ hum called you again.

Following the sound she made, you realized she was trying to draw you attention to one specific lever of the console, one she had pointed out by illuminating it with a characteristic purple light. Assuming she was trying to guide you, you got closer to the lever and pulled it without thinking it twice, desperate to at least try something to fix the situation.

When you heard the approving hum of the TARDIS and noticed the way she illuminated a close button in the same purple light, you proceeded to push that button too, and then the next one she pointed you to. You honestly didn’t know what any of those controls were doing or if you would be able to follow her instructions well enough to get The Master somewhere safe, but you had no time to waste with doubt and second-guessing.

You rushed through the console’s controls, pulling and pressing as soon as the TARDIS indicated you what it was that you had to do next. After pulling one final lever, you noticed the ground beneath your feet tremble as the ship entered the time vortex. You looked back at The Master one last time as the ship landed in an unknown location and time.

“Is it done?” You asked her, quickly wiping away the tears that had fallen from your eyes seconds earlier.

She gave you yet another hum, and you supposed you would need to go outside and figure out if you had succeeded in piloting the TARDIS to the right place. When you ran outside and found yourself inside a building that seemed like what you knew as a hospital, you finally let out the breath that you had been holding.

By the time The Master woke up again, he was lying inside a hospital bed, a sharp pain on his side and a little dizziness caused by whatever substance they were putting into his IV, which he quickly took off without even acknowledging what it was. He attempted to get off the bed to try and find out in which planet he was, or how he had gotten there, but he found himself too weak to move, the stabbing pain on his side making him desist from it.

Giving up and lying his head back on the pillow again, he caught a glimpse of something that look like a bracelet on his right wrist. When he looked at it, he realized his data was printed on that bracelet:

SPECIES: Time Lord

AGE: ?

NAME: Doctor

He immediately frowned at the name of his older enemy on his own hand, and for a second he theorized about being dead and having been sent to the profundities of hell as a punishment for his numerous crimes during his extremely long existence. For a second he feared he would have to live as The Doctor for the rest of eternity.

If there was in fact something similar to hell, he was sure this was it.

Your entrance in the room interrupted his thoughts as he sighed in relief by seeing you. He let out the air too fast out of his lungs, and he couldn’t help but hiss in pain.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him after you realized he had gained consciousness back again, closing the door behind you.

“Better than ever, love.” He said with that smug smile on his face, trying to ignore the intense ache on the side of his torso.

You looked at him for a few seconds, upset that he would act as if nothing had happened. Well, he was The Master. He was an expert in being annoying, you thought. What else could you expect from him?

“I hope it’s really hurting, you thick idiot.” You spitted out, not holding yourself back as you bitterly let him know just how angry you were with him. Had you been anyone else, you wouldn’t have probably lived to tell about it “Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?! I thought you were dying!”

“Dying is not something I’m very good at, as you can see.” The Master casually said with a pompous smirk on his face, one you wished you could slap off him. You simply decided to ignore his comment.

“Why didn’t you just regenerate? Do you have any idea how many trouble you would have spare me?”

“I thought you liked this face, pet.” He raised an eyebrow at you, arrogance showing all over his face as you couldn’t help but blush slightly. It was true you found him attractive, but he clearly didn’t need you to boost his already enormous ego.

“I would have rather have you alive with a different face than dead with this one.”

For barely a second you could see the façade in The Master’s eyes fall apart as you said those words. You knew he wasn’t very keen on talking about feelings, but you hoped he knew you were being serious.

“How did we arrive here?” He quickly changed the subject. “And why am I The Doctor now?”

“I brought us here. The TARDIS taught me to pilot her” You started to explain, watching the surprised look on his face as he tried to imagine you maneuvering his ship. “And well, when they asked me what your species was so they could give you the right medication, I thought I would tell them the truth, but when they asked me for your name I figured telling them they were treating one of the most dangerous criminals in all of time and space wasn’t such a great idea.”

“I would have rather you letting me die before letting anyone think I was her.” He rolled his eyes and ripped off the bracelet on his wrist, clearly annoyed by the idea of being mistaken for his former best friend.

“If you hadn’t stopped for me back then I wouldn’t have had to do it!” You pointed out in frustration, tired of him only complaining. You knew The Master would never thank you for saving his life, but those comments he made were starting to get you on your nerves. The Time Lord started at you in confusion for a few seconds, eyes glued to your face as he tried to decode what was going through your mind before forcing himself inside of it. After staying silent for several seconds, you decided to ask right away. “Why would you risk your life for me anyway?”

“You’re my pet, dear. I’m supposed to keep you safe.” He replied as if it was an obvious thing. When you had first met him, you had never thought you would hear him speak that way about a human.

“Not if it costs you your own life!”

“Did you really want me to abandon you?” He asked, tone deadly serious and eyes inspecting you carefully.

“No, but…” Sighing, you tried to find a proper way to express what was going on inside your head. “I would never want you to get hurt because of me. I’m only human, and my life is so ephemeral and fragile… Your life is way bigger and exciting than what mine could ever be, and you shouldn’t put it at risk because of me. I’m dispensable.”

While hearing your words, The Master regretted every time he had told you how inferior you were because of your ‘human condition’. He had seen you as dispensable at first, but he no longer considered you anything other than his equal, his partner in crime. The fact that you had grown to see yourself as something of less worth than him was almost as painful as the injury on his side.

“Don’t you ever say something like that again.” He warned you in what almost sound like a threatening tone. “You’re not dispensable. If you were I wouldn’t have you in my TARDIS. I did what I did, and I would do it again if I had to, love. I promised to take care of you and that’s exactly what I’m going to do, no matter the cost. Is that understood?”

A little taken aback but moved by his words, you simply nodded, trying to regain composure again.

“Good, now help me get out of here.” Without giving you a second to react, he immediately attempted to get out of the mattress. You quickly rushed to his side to try and get him to lay back again.

“What are you doing? You’re still not ready to go!” You tried to convince him to stay in the hospital for a little longer, to give himself some time to fully recover. Deep down you knew everything you’d try would be useless, knowing that he would run away from that room at the first chance he got. He would probably even want to go plan his next heist right after arriving the TARDIS, as if nothing had ever happened.

“It won’t take long for the staff to discover you lied about my identity, and they’ll want some explanations.” He began to explain to you. “We need to be gone by the time they arrive.”

Closing your eyes, you realized he was right. That was one of the few inconveniences of travelling around space and time causing chaos and destruction, you couldn’t stay anywhere for too long if you didn’t want to get caught, and The Master was a wanted man in practically every corner of the universe.

“Okay, we are leaving.” The Master’s face was adorned with a pleased smile as he heard your words. “But don’t even think about getting into trouble for the next few days. You’re going to get a full recovery first. You have to promise me.”

“I promise you, pet.” He stated as he leaned onto you to use your body as support when he got up.

“Oh, and I’m piloting the TARDIS, by the way.” You added, gaining a warning look from him. “What? You are going to need a lot of rest in the next few days and I have to practice in case I have to pilot her again.”

#Dhawan!Master #Dhawan Master #Dhawan!Master x reader #Sacha Dhawan #Dhawan Master x reader #Dhawan!Master x you #Dhawan Master x you #Doctor who fanfiction

103 notes · View notes

smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

What We Had Was Real

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean asks himself what he’s fighting for. It seems like he’s losing the battle and he wonders what in his life was real and what wasn’t.

Warnings: Angst, just a tad, a little fluff maybe too.

WC: 1614

A/N: I don’t know if it’s any good because I’m not really familiar with the angst thing but I had this stuck in my head and I wanted to put it down somehow.

Dean takes a sip from his tumbler, the tips of his fingers turning white from his tight grip on it. He lets the alcohol warm his throat before he leans his head back to rest against the wall and closes his eyes with a sigh.

The floor of his bedroom is cold underneath him. The air is thick, it makes it harder for him to breathe, at least it feels like it.

He bends one knee and takes the phone that’s been lying shattered on the floor next to him, thumbs at the home button, sees it springing to life, even with the spiderwebs all over the screen.

His whole body is shaking and he’s holding to the glass and the phone like his life depends on it.

Dean thumbs over the contacts, tapping his thumb on a familiar name.

It rings.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He’s about to hang up, think it’s a mistake and she’ll probably already asleep. How could she not, it’s already late.

“Hello,”

Her voice is groggy from sleep. Dean feels something warm spreading in his chest.

He clears his throat, his mouth opens and closes as he tries to bring something past his lips.

Anything.

“Hi,” He says at last, squints his eyes close.

“Dean? It’s something wrong?”

He can hear panic in her voice, shuffling of a blanket in the back, and he pictures her sitting up in her bed. The bed he spent many nights in, the one that feels comfortable and warm, especially when she’s in it.

“‘M shakin’. I...” He exhales and swallows another mouthful of brown liquid. “.. Sorry I woke you up. I had to call you to calm myself down.”

“Dean, why are you shaking?”

“‘M mad,” He grips the phone tighter.

“Why are you mad?”

“Angry too. At everything. God.... Especially at God.”

“Dean, are you drunk?”

He chuckles. “No, ‘m not. Far from it.”

“You’re mad and angry? Why?”

“Long story,” He pauses, thinks about what to tell her, settles on, “I feel like we’ve been played. Everything is slipping out of my grip. I am losing control. Everything I thought was real turned out to be a scam,” He can feel the tears sting at the back of his eyes, making their way to the front and he sniffs before taking another burning sip. “But we were real, weren’t we? You and me, it was real.”

“Dean,”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Leaving.”

“Dean, are you crying?”

He doesn’t answer instantly, not before swallowing down the tears. “Nah,”

“It’s okay to cry, you know? You remember when I was mad and angry for whatever reason? I cried, too. It’s okay to cry. You have to let it out.”

“Yeah, I know,” He says, sets down his glass and brushes away at his cheeks. “Saw you the other day when I drove by your favorite coffee shop while I was in town, I’m not anymore though, otherwise I would have come to see you, rather than calling you,” He takes the glass back, empties the content in one go, squints and welcomes the burn. “You looked great.”

“You could have stopped and said hi,”

“You were with someone, I didn’t want to intrude,”

“Oh,”

“Does he make you happy? I hope he does, you deserve nothing but happiness.”

“So do you, Dean. But no, it’s not like that. I don’t really have to explain it, because I feel that it’s none of your business but I feel that you need to know in order to help calm down whatever’s brewing inside you. He’s interested in Mark from Accounting, so I don’t think that he will ever make me happy.”

Dean lets out an exhale, feels like he’s been holding his breathing since she started talking, is relieved that it’s not what he thinks it was.

And then it bursts out of him, loud, sharp, his throat rumbles at the laughter and he shakes his head, thinks he’s a goddamn idiot.

“I’m sorry,”

“Dean, you’re scaring me. Why are you calling me? You’ve never called. I haven’t heard from you since --”

Her voice falters and she doesn’t even have to say it because Dean knows the end to the sentence. Since the day he walked out on her. Ran away from what they had because he thought that it’s better that way.

“Don’t want you to worry. I just wanted to hear your voice. You could always calm me down.”

“Do you know who you’re talking to? Of course I’m worried! Did you hurt yourself, Dean? What’s on your mind?”

“Miss you, is all.” He smiles, because it’s true.

“Dean…”

He hears her voice tremble, knows that she’s probably crying, wants to actually be there to comfort her. Maybe they could comfort each other.

“‘M sorry I was a fool. Should never have walked out from the only real thing I believed I had. It was real. The laughter, the sweats, the tears, the cuddles, the kisses, its was real, right?”

“Of course it was real, Dean. You’re still scaring me, what is wrong?”

“That’s what it was. The only good thing and I managed to screw it up because I thought that I have to play the hero and save the goddamn world.”

“You did save the world, Dean.”

“No, I didn’t,” He closes his eyes, because the tears won’t stop running down his cheeks. “I thought I did but we didn’t. It’s over, baby. Everything we worked for, every hope and dream I had, every chance of maybe go back to you and have a reasonably normal life, where I can get on your nerves and you can get on mine and we laugh about how stupid we both are --”

“What do you mean? Dean, you’re not going to do anything stupid now, do you?”

“I’m not doing anything to myself, don’t worry about that.”

“I’m still worried.”

“I know,”

“Dean,”

“I wish I could turn back time,” He grins at the memories. “What we had…” There’s a tightening in his throat again, something that makes it hard for him to swallow down the tears. “Just want you to know that when I think of you, I feel better. You were the one who could calm me down and cheer me up. The only one who could make me feel at ease even if my life was a fucking tornado.”

“Dean! Fuck. You’re fucking scaring me. Is this some sort of a goodbye call?”

He ignores her because he needs to get things off his chest.

“I know I never said that I loved you,” He goes on. “I think love is such a stupid word. It’s said too often. People throw it around all the time. But what I feel is more than that. Someone has got to find a word for that.” He chuckles nervously.

“...”

“You’re the best thing that happened to me.” He stands up now, and walks over to sit down on his bed. “I’m sorry.”

“Dean, the fuck are you doing?”

“What I always do,” He mutters. “Trying to save the world.”

“Shut up!”

“So bossy!” He mumbles with a grin.

“I mean it. Listen here mister, you’re going to be fine, alright? You are the most selfless, caring and sweetest man I know. You made me happy, Dean. That should count as something, no?”

“You should add funny to the list.”

“Don’t push it, Dean,” There’s a laugh on the other side and he thinks that he’s missed that the most. “What I wanna say is, that you’re one of the good ones, you know? One that I would have kept.”

“I should have kept you, too.”

“I keep you in my heart, though.”

“You’re in mine. Every fucking morning, you know, I ask myself how you’re doing. If you’re happy.”

“I am. Not as happy as when I was with you, but I am.”

“Good,” He is relieved but it saddens him nonetheless. “Good.”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Happy?”

“N-no. ‘M not. But now I am. I just wanted to know if you’re happy.”

“Fuck, Dean, what does that mean?”

“I can’t tell you and I really need to go now, promised Sam that I’d help him with something,” It’s not entirely a lie. They need to go face the inevitable.

“Okay.”

“Just know that I love you, alright? I miss you every day.”

She chuckles. “You said the L-word.”

“Yeah, well, because nobody did find a more suitable word for it in the time I’ve been talking to you.”

“I love you too, Dean. More than you know. I wish I you wouldn’t do anything stupid but knowing you, I know that you will. Whatever it is, take care alright? Maybe come back in one piece and stop by, even if it’s late.”

“I try.”

“Try harder.”

“Jesus, I miss your sass.”

“And I miss your cockiness.”

“Fuck, baby, I really fucking love you. Be good, alright?”

“Dean?”

“Yeah?”

“Whatever you want to do, how about… I don’t know… you don’t?”

“I can’t go back now.”

“Thought so. Can’t blame me for trying to stop you, though.”

He grins, “Thanks for everything. I thought I just call to say goodbye but now I feel like you gave me something to keep on fighting.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

“Alright, I need to go, I’ll see you on the other side, sweetheart.”

Dean hangs up, not waiting for her to answer, because he knows that if he did, it would be harder for him to walk out of that damn door and face whatever God throws at him. He tosses the phone onto his bed before he stands up and walks out the door.

#what we had was real #dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

283 notes · View notes

idolizerp · 5 years

Photo

LOADING INFORMATION ON DIVINITY’S LEAD VOCAL CHA NARI...

IDOL DETAILS

STAGENAME: Lily CURRENT AGE: 23 DEBUT AGE: 21 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 17 COMPANY: Koala T. SECONDARY SKILL: Modeling

IDOL PROFILE

NICKNAME(S): Alice (she is called this by some fans because she has always seemed somewhat out of place in the topsy-turvey world of Nightmare), Nana (an affectionate nickname from fans that stems from her cute nature). INSPIRATION: Nari was inspired to become and idol by the idols of her youth. She generally avoids talking about her childhood, but when she does it is to mention how much joy it brought her to see classic idol groups perform. They seemed so happy, so glamorous. From a young age, Nari imitated them, dancing in front of her TV. As she grew and it became clear she had a striking resemblance to a member of Diamant, it seemed that Nari was fated to become an idol the way she’d always dreamed. Nari worked hard in her teens to make that future a reality. SPECIAL TALENTS:

make up — Nari is well known for her skills as a make up artist. On variety shows she is sometimes asked to do the make up of male cast members or guests, to amusing results. She has also recently started her own beauty channel where she makes videos on different make up looks.

aegyo — Nari is always ready and willing to perform cute actions, even when others around her might seem reticent. She takes pride in her ability to be cute.

japanese — As Nightmare’s audience expanded internationally, Nari, with no small effort, learned Japanese in order to communicate with her international fans. Nari occasionally performs covers of Japanese songs as well.

NOTABLE FACTS:

Nari has a striking resemblance to a popular member of Diamant. It is commented on nearly every time she goes on variety shows or is discussed in the media.

Nari is known for being a fan of second and first generation girl groups such as Jubilee and Genie. Diamant is by far her favorite and she is quick to sing or dance to their songs when asked (and even when she is not).

When asked, Nari often alludes to her ideal type being a member of Titanium but refuses to clarify which member, exactly, it is.

IDOL GOALS

SHORT-TERM GOALS:

As Nightmare transitions into Divinity, Nari wants to use this rebranding as an opportunity to make herself the new face of the group. More so than other members who might have played heavily into the group’s occult theme before, Nari’s softer image fits the new, lighter concept. Nari aims have her sub unit, Eve, succeed in their promotions, as she is featured much more heavily in the small sub unit than the ungainly large group. Additionally. Nari plans to grow her brand through her fairly new beauty youtube channel. She views this as an excellent way to reach current fans and, hopefully, gain more outside the group’s niche market. Her modeling is also a way to build up her public recognition outside of the group.

LONG-TERM GOALS:

Nari doesn’t plan on staying in Nightmare (now Divinity) forever. The group’s shifting concepts and lack of domestic appeal will only grow as a roadblock as she gets older. Nari knows that Koala.T isn’t keen on giving any members solos at the moment, but long term, perhaps after the group inevitably disbands, she wants to have a solo career. After a long, successful solo career, Nari envisions a state of semi-retirement. She will be wealthy, not having to work in order to afford a luxurious lifestyle, but still maintain a media presence so she is never forgotten.

IDOL IMAGE

Before it was Divinity, before it was even Nightmare, Nari was a perfect fit for Koala.T’s expected girl group. She always appeared to be bright and energetic, the trainee most skilled at aegyo. These aspects matched the expected colorful concept. They were an asset Nari wore proudly, expecting them to take her the final stretch to debut. The concept switch to a darker rock sound complicated matters. It was clear that Nari would never be as mysterious and brooding as the concept demanded. Alterations had to be made.

Newly branded “Lily”, Nari’s concept in Nightmare was a compromise more than anything else. No amount of black nail polish and dark clothes would ever completely roughen up her soft edges. The higher ups at Koala.T decided the best course of action was to lean into her attractive looks. Being too cute wouldn’t work; even at her darkest moments she didn’t look threatening. Instead, they tried to tinge the horror concept with some more sexy elements. Subtle suggestibility and bedroom eyes as opposed to baring it all. Lily couldn’t exactly pull off scary, but perhaps she could be a bit of a temptress. It wasn’t a perfect fit — Nari always looked just a touch out of place in the horror-themed mvs, her movements too soft for the harsh choreography — but it worked well enough. Even an occult themed group like Nightmare could stand to have at least one somewhat cute member to balance out the elements that might otherwise be off putting.

The re-branding into Divinity has been nothing if not a boon for Nari. While her cute and pretty image held her back in Nightmare, it is proving to be an asset as the group transitions into a brighter, more mainstream image. While other members might have gone all-in to Nightmare’s witchy vibes, their decision to allow Lily to retain some aspects her cuter persona makes her immediately more accessible to the new concept. There’s very little she’s had to change.

Lily remains a bright figure in the group who plays heavily into her cuteness and desirability. Because of this, Nari has become the perfect face for Divinity. She, like the group, has maintained her core elements through every transition and concept change. Most importantly, Nari knows how to connect with the Korean public just as much as the group’s foreign fans. Born and raised in the south of the nation, Nari’s current image is something of the platonic ideal of a Korean idol. Outgoing, yet pushy, always cheerful, hardworking and beautiful. Nari is more than pleased with this turn of events and hopes to ride this concept change into the highest heights of fame possible.

IDOL HISTORY

Cha Nari was born in Daegu on April 12, 1996. Her parents, Hyejin and Joonho, had little to offer their first and only child. They both worked low-paying, menial jobs and could only afford a small apartment in the city. Still, though their home was humble, it was happy. Joonho loved his wife and daughter more than words could express and did all that he could to provide for them and make them happy. This was apparently not enough for Hyejin.

Less than a year after Nari was born, Hyejin began an affair with a wealthy businessman. He showered her in gifts. Within six months of starting the affair, Hyejin left her husband and one-year-old and never returned. Joonho was blindsided, having been completely unaware of the affair. He was grief-stricken; after all, he had just lost the love of his life, but he knew that he had to push on, if not for himself, then for his daughter. Even more than before, Nari became his whole world. He would do anything, give up whatever, for his daughter.

When she was very young, Nari wasn’t aware that she was poor. She had clothes to wear, she never went hungry, and she always, always had love. It wasn’t until she started school that Nari began to notice that she was different from other kids. Her classmates, she noticed, got new clothes and not hand-me-downs. They didn’t keep the same shoes until they wore holes in the bottom. Their lunches were larger and nicer. They had big birthday parties, got nice, new toys. Slowly, Nari realized just how much less she had. Her father gave her all he could but it would never measure up.

As Nari became a preteen, she became desperate to keep up with her peers. Nari searched for small jobs around her neighborhood to make just a little bit of pocket money. She ran errands, scrubbed bathroom floors, babysat. Nari did anything and everything just to be able to afford a nicer pair of shoes or some meat for her lunch. Her father, who worked nearly constantly to make ends meet, only saw this as Nari taking after his hardworking ways. He didn’t realize just how ashamed of their circumstances she was.

Puberty hit Nari hard. She’d been a thin and gangly child, but she blossomed into a beautiful teen. She became more popular with girls and boys alike. Nari took to lying to her schoolmates about where she lived and what her father did. She even lied and told people her mother had died, not abandoned her. By the time she was old enough to get a proper part time job, most of her classmates had no idea that the tall, beautiful, popular Nari came from such humble beginnings.

It was in her early teens that people started to notice just how much Nari looked like a member of Diamant. It truly was uncanny. Initially, this pleased Nari. Diamant and other idol groups had been her refuge during the difficult, early years of school when she felt lesser for not having money. She would lose herself in fantasies of being rich and famous like the idols. Being compared to one was the greatest compliment Nari could think of. She wasn’t talented at singing or dancing — she’d never had enough money or time to really try at either — but Nari still dreamed of becoming an idol one day.

That dream was always out of reach until, one day, she was stopped when shopping with her friends. The man said he was a scout for a music company, and he’d never seen such a beautiful girl. Surely, she wanted to be an idol. Nari glowed. The man gave her his card. He said that for a nominal fee, he could help Nari become a trainee. That was all that Nari had ever wanted, so of course, Nari scrapped together her savings and paid the man. She did so again a few weeks later when he asked for another payment, and again a month after that. It was only after she’d spent her very last won and gotten nothing in returned that Nari realized she’d been scammed. This revelation changed Nari. She was no longer wide-eyed and hopeful. Her heart had hardened to the painful realities of the world.

Despite such a major setback, Nari was still determined to become an idol. Nari started putting away money for singing and dancing lessons. Juggling her lessons, her job and school was difficult — many days she would only get roughly three hours of sleep — but Nari persevered. After months and months of lessons, Nari auditioned for every company she could find. Midas turned her down. 99 and MSG too. Even Singularity wouldn’t take her. It wasn’t until she auditioned for Koala.T Music that Nari found a company willing to take a chance on her. She was grateful.

As a trainee, it was painfully clear to Nari that she’d been chosen because of her looks, not on the strength of her talent. Nari had to work twice as hard as everyone else just to keep up. Still, she persevered. Nari spent every spare moment she had practicing. She wouldn’t let a little thing like lack of talent get in the way of her becoming an idol. By the time Koala.T began choosing trainees to debut in the group that would become Nightmare, Nari had fought her way tooth and nail towards the top of the pack. She’d never be the best or most talented but Nari’s hard work had transformed her into a more than serviceable singer and dancer.

The group’s initial colorful concept fit well with Nari. She was cute and bright and was an obvious choice. However, when the debut was delayed and the concept so drastically changed, the choice was drastically less obvious. Some members of management if she was too out of sync with the group’s new horror-tinged concept. Her hardworking nature and beauty beat out any doubts but the lack of connection to Nightmare’s theme would haunt Nari through her debut and beyond.

For her part hated the new concept. She’d been excited to dance to bright pop songs like her favorite idols in older generations. Nightmare was just too strange, too off putting. It would scare away the potential fans she so desperately wanted. Still, Nari knew that this would be her only chance to debut and fought to be in the group. Nari was proved right with their debut and subsequent promotions being lackluster but Nari was still happy just to be an idol. Sure, their fans were few and far away, but they had fans. She was on television, on the camera. She was far away from the sad, lonely, poor little girl she’d been not so very many years before.

Promoting in Nightmare was always a struggle. Nari had been right about the concept alienating potential fans. When Koala.T management announced the addition of subunits with more traditional concepts, Nari was overjoyed. Finally, she would get the chance to be the kind of idol she’d always wanted. Beautiful, bright, beloved. Still, it didn’t feel like enough. Really, when one of their members left the group, she could not blame her; Nightmare was clearly doomed to fail, even with the subunits, unless something drastic happened. She started to fear that was the beginning of the end, that everything would be destroyed before she even had a fighting chance. Then, salvation came. Koala T. decided to rebrand into Divinity, leaning into the style introduced into the subunits. She would still be forced to do the creepy-cute occult songs, but far less often. She could showcase her own unique skills, maybe even become part of the mainstream. Now, Nari is happy and excited about the future of Divinity, even more than when they first debuted. The future looks bright and she intends to take full advantage of it.

#id.bio #id.koalat #id.divinity

2 notes · View notes

truthbeetoldmedia · 5 years

Text

Brooklyn Nine-Nine 6x02 “Hitchcock & Scully” Review

What made Hitchcock and Scully become Hitchcock and Scully? Maybe it’s not a question you’ve ever asked yourself, but it’s a question the latest episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, titled after the two questionable heroes, seeks to answer.

For two peripheral characters — who I always thought were the show’s take on the lazy, doughnut-eating pigs stereotype about cops — Scully and Hitchcock been steadily developed over the past few seasons, becoming something more than caricatures. More than once, we see their rusty detective skills put to good use, and the ease and speed with which they can solve a case when they choose to do so always shocks their younger counterparts.

It’s not that Hitchcock and Scully are bad cops. In fact, they were once very good cops (as of Season 4, Hitchcock held the precinct record for most arrests). It’s just that they’ve left those days behind and desire nothing more than to work from their desks and coast to retirement.

An episode focused around Hitchcock and Scully probably wouldn’t have worked in early seasons. It’s only because the seeds for their past have already been laid and their esteem in the eyes of the audience has gone up in recent years that it works now.

The premise for the meat of the episode is this: Scully receives a call from Internal Affairs regarding a closed case he and Hitchcock worked back in 1986. Fearing that this is a move by the new commissioner to dig up dirt on his squad as part of their ongoing battle, Captain Holt assigns Jake and Charles to look into the case as well, and make sure that the commissioner doesn’t manipulate the facts in order to discredit two of Holt’s detectives.

For the first time, this pits members of the squad directly against each other (and it’s not even the only storyline of the episode to do so, but I’ll touch on that later). I think this show does best when it focuses on external conflict instead of internal squabbles, but there is so much to this storyline other than Jake and Charles vs Scully and Hitchcock that this time, the show pulls it off.

First: the juxtaposition of Young Hitchcock and Scully with Present Hitchcock and Scully. The casting of the younger counterparts of the two cops is perfect; between the mannerisms and the dialogue, it’s possible to see glimpses of the Hitchcock and Scully we’re familiar with in the hotshots, while still struggling to connect the young with the old. (Did anyone else have a minor existential crisis about the inevitable reality of aging? Just me?)

Setting Jake and Charles as the two cops on this case was extremely purposeful, I think — especially since Jake, at least, is still something of a young hotshot cop. In Young Hitchcock and Scully we see shades of Jake and Charles, which then leads us to thinking about what their own future looks like.

Second: this episode reminded me strongly of “House Mouses”, the Season 3 episode where Jake accidentally gives Hitchcock and Scully a case involving a huge drug ring, and he and Terry have to save them. Hitchcock and Scully may contain multitudes, as Jake himself observes, but they’re still...Hitchcock and Scully.

Briefly, Jake and Charles are led to believe that Hitchcock and Scully are actually bad guys (not a hard conclusion to come to, after being locked inside a smelly sex van), before learning that for the past 30 years they’ve actually been protecting one of their informants, Marissa — who works at Wing Slutz, Hitchcock and Scully’s favourite restaurant.

But Holt learns from the commissioner that Hitchcock and Scully aren’t actually under investigation by Internal Affairs — it was actually the drug boss whom they put away on that case 30 years ago who called Scully, fresh out of jail and looking to be led to the informant who put him there. (It isn’t hard to believe that Scully would fall for this ploy, since he’s previously fallen for at least twenty email scams.)

Hitchcock and Scully may have stolen a duffel bag of cash, but they gave it to their informant — who also happens to be the crime boss’s wife — since their captain at the time refused to put her in Witness Protection. They go to Wing Slutz so often because they have a code by which Marissa can let them know if she’s in trouble, but also because the wings are really good. They decide to strap buckets of “slut sauce” to their torsos in lieu of bulletproof vests, and then put their lives at risk taking a bullet for Marissa.

To repeat: Hitchcock and Scully contain multitudes, as does every other character on this show. The brilliant part of this episode is that the deep dive into their past doesn’t contradict anything we’ve been shown on screen in the five previous seasons, but rather enhances what was already there and gives the audience a deeper appreciation for these characters.

I wasn’t as happy with the B-plot of this episode. With the fourth floor still overcrowded after the first floor of the precinct got shut down, Amy is together with her old squad once again — but now her allegiance has changed, as her loyalty is to her uniformed officers.

Tensions are running high due to the lack of space, reminiscent of the episode where the Nine-Nine is forced to share their precinct with the Nine-Eight — except this time, it’s Amy vs Terry and Rosa.

I mentioned above that I’m not a fan of conflict between the main characters on this show. In the A-plot it worked, because Jake and Charles were investigating a past version of Hitchcock and Scully and had to realize just how much of their past — and by extension, their present — they weren’t familiar with. In the B-plot, it comes off as more contrived, since it’s only been a matter of weeks since Amy was moved downstairs, and I don’t see her instantly going to war for her new squad against Terry and Rosa instead of working with them to find a solution for everybody.

And yeah, I get it, families fight, especially when pushed into crowded and stressful circumstances. But that doesn’t mean I like watching it.

At least there is a reconciliation at the end, as both Amy and Holt realize that there are things more important than the lines they’ve drawn in the sand, namely the lives of people they care about as they go to rescue Jake, Charles, Hitchcock, and Scully from their sticky situation.

For Holt, earlier in the episode he’d put aside the comfort of his squad for the sake of his war with the commissioner. In retaliation for the closing of the precinct’s first floor, Holt plans on doing an interview during which he’ll call out John Kelly’s “vigilant police” policy for the backwards and discriminatory policy it is. While Holt’s heart is doubtless in the right place, such an interview would only fan the flames.

Speaking of John Kelly, the commissioner himself shows up this episode, a grandfatherly looking man who speaks threats with a smile on his face. He makes the skin crawl, which was no doubt exactly the intention.

As much as I already hate him, I hope we see lots of him this season. It’s been awhile since Holt last had a nemesis, and his rivalry with Madeline Wuntch in Season 2 was absolutely one of the highlights of that season. Holt can throw down.

In the end, Holt misses his interview to rescue Jake & co. (Gina does it in his place, and is a disaster). A common theme in this show is that people are more important than ideals, which is a nice message, I think. (*cough* 800,000 unpaid federal workers.)

Holt also promises to stop allowing his squad to be collateral damage in his war with the commissioner, so hopefully things return to normal soon. I like seeing Amy back with the squad again, but not at the cost of her fighting with them.

Footnotes:

“You’re fake news! Sad!” “Yup, that’s the language of the innocent.” I gasped.

“I’m not an idiot just because I have a heart.” I love Charles, and I love his optimistic naivety. I’m glad the small subplot regarding Nikolaj’s half-brother had a happy ending, too; not only does it validate Charles’ optimism, but in a world where it’s hard to trust things you find online, it’s good to know that some people don’t have malevolent motives.

So can we expect to get at least one bleep an episode now? I can’t even decide which squad member I want to swear next. (Amy, because she’s well-known for using words like “frickin” and “hoot”? Holt, because it would absolutely shatter his emotionless facade? Rosa or Gina, because it wouldn’t feel the least out of character coming from either of them?)

“My wife and my dad are here!” 1) I love Jake calling Amy his wife. 2) I love Jake calling Holt his dad. 3) The smile and wave Amy gave Jake is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

“I do give a hoot. I give a hoot about all of you.” Unlike Jake, I dearly hope that this “hoot thing” continues all season.

Brooklyn Nine-Nine airs Thursdays at 9/8c on NBC.

Sam’s episode rating: 🐝🐝🐝.5

#Brooklyn Nine-Nine #Hitchcock & Scully #Michael Hitchcock #Norm Scully

9 notes · View notes

inkyardpress · 5 years

Text

20 Paperbacks to add to your TBR

Real talk: we can all agree hardcovers make for gorgeous collectors’ items, but there are times when only a paperback will do. They’re easier on the wallet, way more portable for reading on the go and they’re easy to conceal (oh, say, for some sneaky reading during family functions). Here are 20 new and upcoming paperbacks we wouldn’t want to live without:

The Black Witch by Laurie Forest

Powerful magic. A deadly legacy. A world at the edge of war.

Evil looms on the horizon, and for Elloren Gardner, granddaughter of the last Black Witch, pressure to live up to her magical heritage is building. Elloren’s people, the Gardnerians, believe she will follow in her grandmother’s footsteps. But Elloren is utterly devoid of power—in a society that prizes magical ability above all else.

Granted the opportunity to study at the prestigious Verpax University, Elloren sets out to embrace a destiny of her own, free from the shadow of her grandmother’s legacy. But the university may be the most treacherous place of all for the granddaughter of the Black Witch, and Elloren soon realizes that the world she knows is not what it seems. If she is to survive the coming danger, she’ll have to free her mind from the assumptions she was raised with, and learn to trust the very people she’s been taught to hate and fear.

Add The Black Witch to your Goodreads Shelf!

The Inexplicable Logic of My Life by Benjamin Alire Sáenz

The first day of senior year:

Everything is about to change. Until this moment, Sal has always been certain of his place with his adoptive gay father and their loving Mexican-American family. But now his own history unexpectedly haunts him, and life-altering events force him and his best friend, Samantha, to confront issues of faith, loss, and grief.

Suddenly Sal is throwing punches, questioning everything, and discovering that he no longer knows who he really is—but if Sal’s not who he thought he was, who is he?

Add The Inexplicable Logic of My Life to your Goodreads Shelf!

Ace of Shades by Amanda Foody

Welcome to the City of Sin, where casino families reign, gangs infest the streets…and secrets hide in every shadow.

Enne Salta was raised as a proper young lady, and no lady would willingly visit New Reynes, the so-called City of Sin. But when her mother goes missing, Enne must leave her finishing school—and her reputation—behind to follow her mother’s trail to the city where no one survives uncorrupted.

Frightened and alone, Enne has only one lead: the name Levi Glaisyer. Unfortunately, Levi is not the gentleman she expected—he’s a street lord and a con man. Levi is also only one payment away from cleaning up a rapidly unraveling investment scam, so he doesn't have time to investigate a woman leading a dangerous double life. Enne's offer of compensation, however, could be the solution to all his problems.

Their search for clues leads them through glamorous casinos, illicit cabarets and into the clutches of a ruthless Mafia donna. As Enne unearths an impossible secret about her past, Levi's enemies catch up to them, ensnaring him in a vicious execution game where the players always lose. To save him, Enne will need to surrender herself to the city…

And she’ll need to play.

Add Ace of Shades to your Goodreads shelf!

Renegades by Marissa Meyer

Secret Identities. Extraordinary Powers. She wants vengeance. He wants justice.

The Renegades are a syndicate of prodigies — humans with extraordinary abilities — who emerged from the ruins of a crumbled society and established peace and order where chaos reigned. As champions of justice, they remain a symbol of hope and courage to everyone... except the villains they once overthrew.

Nova has a reason to hate the Renegades, and she is on a mission for vengeance. As she gets closer to her target, she meets Adrian, a Renegade boy who believes in justice — and in Nova. But Nova's allegiance is to a villain who has the power to end them both.

Add Renegades to your Goodreads shelf!

Runebinder by Alex R. Kahler

Magic is risen.

When magic returned to the world, it could have saved humanity, but greed and thirst for power caused mankind's downfall instead. Now once-human monsters called Howls prowl abandoned streets, their hunger guided by corrupt necromancers and the all-powerful Kin. Only Hunters have the power to fight back in the unending war, using the same magic that ended civilization in the first place.

But they are losing.

Tenn is a Hunter, resigned to fight even though hope is nearly lost. When he is singled out by a seductive Kin named Tomás and the enigmatic Hunter Jarrett, Tenn realizes he's become a pawn in a bigger game. One that could turn the tides of war. But if his mutinous magic and wayward heart get in the way, his power might not be used in favor of mankind.

If Tenn fails to play his part, it could cost him his friends, his life…and the entire world.

Add Runebinder to your Goodreads shelf!

(Don’t) Call Me Crazy: 33 Voices Start the Conversation About Mental Health edited by Kelly Jensen

Who’s Crazy?

What does it mean to be crazy? Is using the word crazy offensive? What happens when such a label gets attached to your everyday experiences?

In order to understand mental health, we need to talk openly about it. Because there’s no single definition of crazy, there’s no single experience that embodies it, and the word itself means different things—wild? extreme? disturbed? passionate?—to different people.

(Don’t) Call Me Crazy is a conversation starter and guide to better understanding how our mental health affects us every day. Thirty-three writers, athletes, and artists offer essays, lists, comics, and illustrations that explore their personal experiences with mental illness, how we do and do not talk about mental health, help for better understanding how every person’s brain is wired differently, and what, exactly, might make someone crazy.

If you’ve ever struggled with your mental health, or know someone who has, come on in, turn the pages, and let’s get talking.

Add (Don’t) Call me Crazy to your Goodreads shelf!

The First to Know by Abigail Johnson

Dana Fields's father never knew his parents. When Dana secretly does a DNA test for her dad, hoping to find him some distant relatives for his birthday, her entire world implodes. Instead of a few third cousins, Dana discovers a half brother her age whose very existence means her parents' happy marriage is a lie.

Dana's desire to know her half brother, Brandon, and the extent of her dad's deception, clashes with her wish not to destroy her family. When she sees the opportunity to get to know Brandon through his cousin, the intense yet kind Chase, she takes it. But the more she finds out about Brandon, her father's past and the irresistible guy who'll never forgive her if he discovers the truth, the more she sees the inevitable fallout from her own lies. With her family crumbling around her, Dana must own up to her actions and find a way to heal the breach—for everyone—before they're torn apart for good.

Add The First to Know to your Goodreads shelf!

The Afterlife of Holly Chase by Cynthia Hand

On Christmas Eve five years ago, Holly was visited by three ghosts who showed her how selfish and spoiled she'd become. They tried to convince her to mend her ways.

She didn't.

And then she died.

Now she's stuck working for the top-secret company Project Scrooge--as the latest Ghost of Christmas Past.

Every year, they save another miserly grouch. Every year, Holly stays frozen at seventeen while her family and friends go on living without her. So far, Holly's afterlife has been miserable.

But this year, everything is about to change. . .

Add The Afterlife of Holly Chase to your Goodreads shelf!

Someone to Love by Melissa de la Cruz

Constantly in the spotlight thanks to her politician father's rising star, Olivia Blakely feels the pressure to be perfect. As the youngest girl in her class, she tries hard to keep up and to seem mature to the older boy she's crushing on, even as she catches his eye. But the need to look good on camera and at school soon grows into an all-consuming struggle with bulimia.

As Liv works toward her goal of gaining early admission to art school, including taking part in an upcoming student show, her life spirals out of control. Swept up in demands to do more than she's ready for, to always look perfect and to succeed, Liv doesn't know who she is anymore. It will take nearly losing her best friend and even her life for Liv to learn that loving herself is far more important than earning the world's approval.

Add Someone to Love to your Goodreads shelf!

The Wicker King by K. Ancrum

When August learns that his best friend, Jack, shows signs of degenerative hallucinatory disorder, he is determined to help Jack cope. Jack’s vivid and long-term visions take the form of an elaborate fantasy world layered over our own—a world ruled by the Wicker King. As Jack leads them on a quest to fulfill a dark prophecy in this alternate world, even August begins to question what is real or not.

August and Jack struggle to keep afloat as they teeter between fantasy and their own emotions. In the end, each must choose his own truth.

Add The Wicker King to your Goodreads shelf!

Oh My Goth by Gena Showalter

A note from Jade Leighton’s journal

Years ago, a tragic accident robbed me of my mother and emotions. Because I find beauty in darkness and thrive outside social norms, I’ve been labeled a “freak” at school. I know my continued apathy hurts my loved ones, but I’m not about to change. Nothing will ever hurt me again.

Then I wake up in an alternate reality…and everything else has changed. Goth is in. I’m considered cool, and my archenemy—the formerly popular Mercedes—is the freak. But my real friends won’t talk to me...and the new boy is getting under my skin. As my world spins out of control, I’m desperate to return to normal. But the more time that passes, the less I’m sure what “normal” really is.

Add Oh My Goth to your Goodreads shelf!

Stealing Snow by Danielle Page

Seventeen-year-old Snow has spent her life locked in Whittaker Psychiatric—but she isn’t crazy. And that’s not the worst of it. Her very first kiss proves anything but innocent…when Bale, her only love, turns violent.

Despite Snow knowing that Bale would never truly hurt her, he is taken away—dashing her last hope for any sort of future in the mental ward she calls home. With nowhere else to turn, Snow finds herself drawn to a strange new orderly who whispers secrets in the night about a mysterious past and a kingdom that’s hers for the taking—if only she can find her way past the iron gates to the Tree that has been haunting her dreams.

Beyond the Tree lies Algid, a land far away from the real world, frozen by a ruthless king. And there too await the River Witch, a village boy named Kai, the charming thief Jagger, and a prophecy that Snow will save them all.

Add Stealing Snow to your Goodreads shelf!

Our Own Private Universe by Robin Talley

Fifteen-year-old Aki Simon has a theory. And it's mostly about sex.

No, it isn't that kind of theory. Aki already knows she's bisexual—even if, until now, it's mostly been in the hypothetical sense. Aki has dated only guys so far, and her best friend, Lori, is the only person who knows she likes girls, too.

Actually, Aki's theory is that she's got only one shot at living an interesting life—and that means she's got to stop sitting around and thinking so much. It's time for her to actually do something. Or at least try.

So when Aki and Lori set off on a church youth-group trip to a small Mexican town for the summer and Aki meets Christa—slightly older, far more experienced—it seems her theory is prime for the testing.

But it's not going to be easy. For one thing, how exactly do two girls have sex, anyway? And more important, how can you tell if you're in love? It's going to be a summer of testing theories—and the result may just be love.

Add Our Own Private Universe to your Goodreads shelf!

They Both Die at the End by Adam Silvera

On September 5, a little after midnight, Death-Cast calls Mateo Torrez and Rufus Emeterio to give them some bad news: They’re going to die today.

Mateo and Rufus are total strangers, but, for different reasons, they’re both looking to make a new friend on their End Day. The good news: There’s an app for that. It’s called the Last Friend, and through it, Rufus and Mateo are about to meet up for one last great adventure—to live a lifetime in a single day.

Add They Both Die at the End to your Goodreads shelf!

Four Weeks, Five People by Jennifer Yu

Obsessive-compulsive teen Clarissa wants to get better, if only so her mother will stop asking her if she's okay.

Andrew wants to overcome his eating disorder so he can get back to his band and their dreams of becoming famous.

Film aficionado Ben would rather live in the movies than in reality.

Gorgeous and overly confident Mason thinks everyone is an idiot.

And Stella just doesn't want to be back for her second summer of wilderness therapy.

As the five teens get to know one another and work to overcome the various disorders that have affected their lives, they find themselves forming bonds they never thought they would, discovering new truths about themselves and actually looking forward to the future.

Add Four Weeks, Five People to your Goodreads shelf!

Mirror Mirror by Cara Delevigne and Rowan Coleman

Friend. Lover. Victim. Traitor.

When you look in the mirror, what do you see?

Sixteen-year-old friends Red, Leo, Rose, and Naomi are misfits; still figuring out who they are and who they want to be. Life isn't perfect, but music brings them together, and they are excited about what the future holds for their band, Mirror, Mirror. That is until Naomi vanishes before being pulled unconscious out of the river.

She's left fighting for her life in a coma. The police claim it was a failed suicide attempt, but her friends aren't convinced. Will Naomi ever wake up? What - or perhaps who - led her to that hospital bed? And how did Red, the self-styled protector of the group, fail to spot the warning signs?

While Rose turns to wild partying and Leo is shrouded by black moods, Red sets out to uncover the truth. It's a journey that will cause Red's world to crack, exposing the group's darkest secrets. Nothing will ever be the same again, because once a mirror is shattered, it can't be fixed.

Add Mirror Mirror to your Goodreads shelf!

The Ravenous by Amy Lukavics

From the outside, the Cane family looks like they have it all. A successful military father, a loving mother and five beautiful teenage daughters. But on the inside, life isn't quite so idyllic: the Cane sisters can barely stand each other, their father is always away, and their neglectful mother struggles with addiction and depression.

When their youngest and most beloved sister, Rose, dies in a tragic accident, Mona Cane and her sisters are devastated. And when she is brought back from the dead, they are relieved. But soon they discover that Rose must eat human flesh to survive, and when their mother abandons them, the sisters will find out just how far they'll go to keep their family together.

Add The Ravenous to your Goodreads shelf!

Bad Girls with Perfect Faces by Lynn Weingarten

When I looked up, his smile was wide and real. “Ready?” he said.

I faked a smile back. I had gotten so good at faking things.

I thought: You brought this on yourself, Sasha. You will have to pretend forever now. He squeezed my hand again. He couldn’t begin to imagine what this actually was. He had no idea what I’d done. What any of us had.

When Sasha’s best friend Xavier gets back together with his cheating ex, Ivy, Sasha knows she needs to protect him. So she poses as a guy online to lure Ivy away.

But Sasha’s plan goes sickeningly wrong. And she soon learns to be careful of who you pretend to be because you might be surprised by who you become…

Add Bad Girls with Perfect Faces to your Goodreads shelf!

Zenith by Sasha Alsberg and Lindsay Cummings

Most know Androma Racella as the Bloody Baroness, a powerful mercenary whose reign of terror stretches across the Mirabel Galaxy. To those aboard her glass starship, Marauder, however, she's just Andi, their friend and fearless leader.

But when a routine mission goes awry, the Marauder's all-girl crew is tested as they find themselves in a treacherous situation and at the mercy of a sadistic bounty hunter from Andi's past.

Meanwhile, across the galaxy, a ruthless ruler waits in the shadows of the planet Xen Ptera, biding her time to exact revenge for the destruction of her people. The pieces of her deadly plan are about to fall into place, unleashing a plot that will tear Mirabel in two.

Andi and her crew embark on a dangerous, soul-testing journey that could restore order to their shipor just as easily start a war that will devour worlds. As the Marauder hurtles toward the unknown, and Mirabel hangs in the balance, the only certainty is that in a galaxy run on lies and illusion, no one can be trusted.

Add Zenith to your Goodreads shelf!

Dumplin’: Movie Tie-in Edition by Julie Murphy

Soon to be a movie from Netflix—featuring Jennifer Aniston, Danielle Macdonald, Dove Cameron and others, as well as a soundtrack from Dolly Parton!

Self-proclaimed fat girl Willowdean Dickson (dubbed “Dumplin’” by her former beauty queen mom) has always been at home in her own skin. Her thoughts on having the ultimate bikini body? Put a bikini on your body. With her all-American beauty best friend, Ellen, by her side, things have always worked . . . until Will takes a job at Harpy’s, the local fast-food joint. There she meets Private School Bo, a hot former jock. Will isn’t surprised to find herself attracted to Bo. But she is surprised when he seems to like her back.

Instead of finding new heights of self-assurance in her relationship with Bo, Will starts to doubt herself. So she sets out to take back her confidence by doing the most horrifying thing she can imagine: entering the Miss Clover City beauty pageant—along with several other unlikely candidates—to show the world that she deserves to be up there as much as any girl does. Along the way, she’ll shock the hell out of Clover City—and maybe herself most of all.

Add Dumplin’ to your Goodreads shelf!

#paperback books #ya books #ya reads #bookworm #book recommendations

21 notes · View notes

truthofherdreams · 6 years

Text

people can surprise you (or not)

OR, the reversed How to lose a guy in 10 days AU nobody asked, but everybody gets. (ao3)

Dmitry looks up from his laptop, swallowing down a sigh. The meeting has been going on for what feels like hours now, with no sign of it finishing any time soon. Gleb has rejected two dozen article ideas so far, which is a record even for him. Nothing is fresh enough for BuzzClick’s editorial line. Dmitry has been working here long enough to read between the lines – nothing is clickbait-worthy, nor has the potential of going viral. Which, in Gleb’s world, means it’s useless.

Five years of studying journalism for this bullshit, Dmitry thinks bitterly. What would his father think? Still, when yet another moronic idea gets dismissed, and with a pointed elbow in the arm from Vlad, Dmitry finally raises his hand. “I’ve been working on something,” he admits. Then, with a hand wave from Gleb to go on, “About the scams happening on Instagram right now, and how companies use gullible, young women to promote their products for free.”

Gleb raises an unimpressed eyebrow and folds his hands on his chest, and Dmitry prepares for the inevitable lecture. “And why should BuzzClick’s audience care about this, exactly?”

Because your audience is a bunch of teenager fools who don’t know any better, Dmitry thinks. But he has his answer prepared, thankfully, and instead he offers his boss a placarding smile. “Social networks and the evils of capitalism? It’s a millennial dream, people will love it. Not to mention it never hurts to show how naïve and gullible young girls are, am I right?”

Gleb remains silence for a few seconds, so much so that Dmitry believes him interested, or at least intrigued enough to want to hear more about it. But then, “No. Anything else?”

“Excuse –”

“I said no, Sudayev. Moving on.”

Dmitry is left gaping at his boss, unable to believe his eyes and ears. Gleb royally ignores him as he listens, then rejects, yet another idea from someone else. Dmitry is too gobsmacked to do anything else but stare for long seconds, until Vlad puts a hand on his arm and leans closer to him. “Better luck next time, boy,” he whispers.

“This isn’t fair,” Dmitry finds himself replying like a petulant child.

He swallows his anger with a sip of burning coffee, which does nothing to quiet the fire inside him. The article is good, he knows. Good enough to move him from clickbait list articles and onto a real journalistic job at last. It’s been five years of this bullshit, and Dmitry has had enough. But Gleb refuses to give him a chance, for reasons Dmitry has never understood – some rumours of an old rivalry between their fathers, which is the most moronic excuse ever. Holding grudges can only go so far, and Dmitry has had enough.

“I have an idea,” another man says, raising a hand in the air, then pushing his glasses up his nose. Gleb turns to him. “Some kind of social experiment. About how – how, you know, nice guys finish last.”

Dmitry forces himself not to groan out loud, even more so when a smirk appears at the corner of Gleb’s mouth. “Go on.”

“I was thinking about – seeing what happens when an alpha male is an asshole to a woman, and when a, well, normal man does it. How long it would take for the woman to dump either of them.”

This seriously is the most moronic idea Dmitry has even heard in his life, and he’s heard his fair share of bullshit in this meeting room. But Gleb is actually thinking about it, the fucking idiot, and Dmitry wants to die. As if BuzzClick didn’t already have enough of a sexist reputation as it was, no, let’s jump right into Nice Guy territory! Jesus fuck…

“Interesting…” Gleb mutters, because of course he does. This whole thing is a fucking joke. “We would need an alpha male for the other half of the experiment, though.”

Dmitry wants to chuckle at the obvious jab toward his colleague, but then all eyes are on him, and his laugh dies in his throat. He blinks, once, twice, before he truly understands what basically everyone in the room is implying. “Nope. No way.”

“Why not?” Gleb asks in a very rhetorical tone.

Dmitry is having none of it. “Because you’re asking me to be an asshole to some random woman just to prove a very sexist and offensive point like I’m some guy on Reddit who has no idea women are actually people?”

The tension in the room is so thick you could cut it with a butter knife, but Dmitry refuses to look away from his boss, defiant. He knows it to be useless, of course -- you either obey Gleb or pack up and leave, tail between your legs. But he would like to think he is making a point, even though his colleagues are exactly the Reddit type he was talking about. Not exactly the sharpest pencils in the box, the whole lot of them.

“How about,” Gleb starts, his tone saccharine sweet, “You do this, and I have a look at this little article of yours?”

A muscles spasms in Dmitry’s jaw. He hates this situation very fucking much. And yet, still. “Fine.”

“Good. You both have ten days to find a chick and give her all you’ve got. Let’s see how long the poor girls last.”

It’s all a game to them, and Dmitry finds himself a reluctant player.

His father would be ashamed.

…

Anastasia has always thought that, out of the five of them, Maria’s smile was the brightest. She smiles with her entire body, not just her mouth, and it makes her all the prettier. It is especially obvious tonight, Maria losing her natural shy demeanour to smile and laugh as she recalls a story. Anastasia’s chin is in her hand as she leans on the table and listens, with a smile of her own, her fingers playing with the straw in her cocktail.

“And this morning, she sent three dozen roses to my office. Three dozens, Nastya!” she exclaims loudly.

It is when Alexei comes back from the bar, shouldering his way through the crowd to drop three shots of vodka on the table. He winks at Anastasia before sitting down by her side. “Sounds to me like Masha finally found her match.”

“Nana will be so proud,” Anastasia adds with her chin up and a shake of the head, making her little brother laugh.

Even if neither of them say so out loud, they all know it wasn’t always that easy -- Nana may be a great many things, kind and loving and so much more, but accepting that one of her granddaughters was gay, well. Let’s just say it was a process. But maybe it will be better now that Maria has found someone she loves and who loves her back. Anastasia hopes so. Nana still has Olga and Tanya to give her as many great-grandchildren as she wishes, after all.

“Know what it means, though,” Alexei adds with a elbow to Anastasia’s side, which makes Maria laugh.

Yes. She knows it all too much, and is not exactly looking forward to it. Anastasia grabs the shot of vodka in front of her, downs it, and winces. The alcohol burns down her throat and stomach, but doesn’t calm her nerves. Quite the contrary.

“Yes, because god forbid I have a good, fulfilling job and an apartment of my own, if I’m not also married with children. My celibacy eclipses all my other achievements in life.”

“What kind of feminist nonsense,” Maria jokes, and laughs when Anastasia throws a peanut at her face. She dodges it easily, and retaliates with the cherry from her cocktail. It hits Anastasia’s nose, and Maria’s next words hit right where it hurts. “Like you know how to be in a relationship anyway.”

She gapes at her older sister. “What does that even mean?”

Maria gives her the best Olga look she can muster, the one the eldest sister always favours when one of the youngest -- often Alexei -- does or says something wrong. But where it is effective with Olga, it is lost on Maria’s kind features and gentle eyes. Anastasia only scoffs at her in reply.

“It means, when was the last time you dated someone, Nastya?” Alexei asks.

She glares at him, the traitor. “I’ll have you know I date a lot of people.”

“When was the last time you dated someone for more than a day?” Maria clarifies.

Which. Not helping. Anastasia opens her mouth even as she keeps thinking, but not a single name comes to her mind. True, she hasn’t dated a lot of men in her life, but she doesn’t see what is wrong with that. It’s not like she needs to be dated someone to have a fulfilling life, and it’s not like she feels lonely. She likes being on her own, and doesn’t particularly envy her sisters for being married with children. It’s never been something she’s wanted for herself, and she won’t force herself to want something she doesn’t need.

Of course, Nana doesn’t see it this way, and Nana will soon decide that Anastasia is too old to be single. Which will lead to a procession of dates with proper Russian gentlemen, all of it arranged by her grandmother. Anastasia doesn’t particularly look forward to it, even if she can see it looming in a corner ever since she blew her twenty-fifth candle.

“Aloysha is single too. I don’t see anyone doing anything about that.”

“I’m busy,” Alexei replies. It’s his go-to answer, and it always works. Because he’s the only one in the family who’s still at university, now working on his doctorate in history. “I don’t have time for socialising.”

Anastasia offers him an unimpressed stare, even more so at his innocent smirk when he downs his shot of vodka. “I’m busy too and yet…”

“Come on, Nastya. Just admit it.” Anastasia directs her stare toward her sister. “You simply suck at dating.”

“I don’t -- I’m not -- no!” she sputters. “I could date if I wanted to. I just don’t want to.”

“Oh really?” Maria singsongs. The mischievous look doesn’t suit her. “Wanna bet on it?”

Alexei snorts a laugh into his beer, but otherwise doesn’t comment, leaving both sisters to stare at each other -- one challenging, the other murderous. It reminds Anastasia of all the bets they had as children, to climb trees and steal candies and annoy Nana’s employees. It often ended in one or two of them grounded and, on a particularly gruesome occasion, in Alexei spending a week at the hospital for a nasty-looking bruise despite his meds.

Sadly for herself, Anastasia has never been one to back down from their games and challenges. “What kind of bet?”

“Let’s say,” Maria starts and purses her lips, stirring her cocktail with the straw. “When is Nana’s gala again?”

“Next Wednesday,” Alexei chimes in.

“Next Wednesday. I bet you can’t find a guy tonight, in this bar, and keep him until next Wednesday. Prove me wrong and introduce him to Nana during the gala. As your boyfriend.”

“A guy? Any guy?”

Maria sits a little straighter in her chair, looking around her at the crowd of people. She seems to be scanning each and every one of the men in the room, pondering on each one, until her eyes sparkle and a smile stretches her lips. She raises a hand to point one finger at someone across the room. “This guy!”

…

Dmitry tries not to cringe too much, but it’s a lost battle at this point. His colleagues are all gathered around a table, piece of paper and pen between them, laughing like assholes at the list they are making. Mainly, the list of shit Dmitry will have to do for this stupid fucking article. They’re having a blast about it, like they made it their life’s goal to traumatise a poor girl for clicks, and it makes him sick in the stomach to witness it.

Why he accepted, Dmitry will never know. It goes against his integrity, as a journalist and as a man, but those kinds of jobs just don’t fall in your lap every day. He had to fight to become a journalist, even a shitty one, and it’s not like any publication is going to open their arms to him when he only has BuzzClick on his resume. So it’s either do this shit or go back to working at McDonald’s, and he’s had his share of customer service to last him a century.

He stands up suddenly at one particularly bad joke, deciding that he needs more alcohol if he’s going to survive the night. His beer is lukewarm by now, and he wants something stronger to settle the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach.

He barely makes it to the counter before someone shows up by his side, and he’s ready to give a mouthful to whichever colleague followed him. Only it’s not them. It’s possibly the prettiest girl he’s ever seen -- a head smaller than he is, with strawberry blonde hair and mesmerizing eyes. He can’t tell which colour they are in the darkness of the bar, blue or grey or something else. But beautiful, they definitely are beautiful, and so is she.

“Hi. I’m Anya.”

There is confidence in her tone and the way she holds herself, and Dmitry can’t look away. He’s always loved a woman who knows what she wants, and tonight is no different. “Dmitry. Want something to drink?”

She frowns at him, just for a moment, before she asks, “ру́сский?”

The use of his native language takes him by surprise, even more so coming from a woman with such a flawless French accent. He couldn’t have guessed, but he knows his French to be slightly rough around the edges. Just enough to be recognised by fellow Russians and to categorise him as ‘not from here’ by some. “Санкт-Петербу́рг,” he replies with ease.

“Пу́шкин,” she says. Ah. Not so far from where he grew up, then. Neighbours, even. Then, switching back to French, “But I’ve been living here since I was a little girl. And a Cosmo, please.”

Dmitry grins at her, before he manages to catch the attention of a bartender. “Cosmo and a vodka on the rocks, please.” Then, turning back to her, “My mother and I moved to France when I was ten. Lyon, not Paris. That came after.”

“Interesting,” she says, and takes a step closer to him. “And what brought you to Paris?”

Damn, but those eyes. He can’t look away from them, even when she offers him a mysterious smile and blinks down. There is something about them, and her, that have Dmitry want to know more, to know everything. It’s never happened before, and he has his fair share of experience with women. But her… Her!

It takes Dmitry a few seconds to remember she asked a question. “Journalism. Well, if you can call it that, really.” He wrinkles his nose. “I work for BuzzClick.”

She makes a face. Yeah, BuzzClick has that reputation. “Top ten worst websites of all time. You will not believe number four!”

He laughs and, just in time, grabs their drink and hands her the colourful cocktail. “Yeah, something like this. Not proud of it, but it does pay the bills. What about you?”

She takes a sip of her drink, looking at him above the rim of the glass and beneath her lashes, and Dmitry’s knees go weak. Damn, but he’s a goner. “I’m in charge of the Truth Of My Dreams foundation.”

Dmitry blinks at her, speechless for a moment. Because of course she would be in charge of such a foundation, making the dreams of almost-dying children come true all over the world. Of course she would.

“Beautiful and selfless,” he can’t help but comment. It makes her blush and look away, even more so when he finds the nerve to go on, “Wanna get out of here?”

When she looks back at him, there is a determination and hunger in her eyes like he’s never seen before. Dmitry makes a silent thanks to the universe because, whatever he did right, he sure didn’t deserve that beautiful of a twist of fate.

“Yes, please,” she says, and takes his hand.

He ignores the grins and hoots of his colleagues as they leave the bar.

#dimya #dimya fanfiction #anastasia the musical #anastasia romanov #dmitry sudayev #*#ff: anastasia #ff: people can surprise you (or not)#fanfic

144 notes · View notes

nymanfrancis1990 · 4 years

Text

How To Attract Ex Wife Back Prodigious Cool Tips

I tried to convince her that you're not the time to heal, because you hope they will think that the person he fell in love with?I will get to know and find out cautiously about your relationship.You need not have something, your passion for each other anymore.So about all of your privacy at this point that you are a lot of time was bad enough, but what matters the most important step.

Take responsibility for everything you do that, you decrease your chance to talk to your ex back.They tend to not making matters worse between the two, so be patient and focus on the other, you will need to fix it.How do I save my relationship, then here is my experience that many men in the same as they know you, so the best as you do.With all the time and space to do is to make the relationship to work, some things wrong, it can take some time out - the results you want.A lot of effort into trying to salvage their broken hearts before they will inevitably result in good memories.

When you are going to wind up back at you.Before you hang up be sure that you were flirting with other people, make new friends.A man will just be hurting your chances of getting him back into your life.She is just to see if a person who smiles and believes that things have had time to cool down first before talking again.Understanding with your ex, you will begin to feel uncomfortable.

None of them out there, don't waste any more painful break ups are a couple of the good and that you've changed.Acting cool and don't accept that he wants you to give in on my work day and every single minute.She wants to feel and explain why you aren't a pushover, and that has just happened, she would like to give it a scam?The thing is, the deed was already done, and I am going to be patient.However, if you want to be living together and how come you didn't treat her as often as possible.

The answers to them just be wasting your time.This may sound odd, but taking the wrong decision in the same time you have made innumerable ones.You already know yourself for the same way you did that might not hold good but in most cases, you ex to talk.You want your ex boyfriend, ex girlfriend, ex wife some space.However, are you must focus on the competition.Wondering whether it is not what she wants to be understood and effective ways to get that lover back, a Wicca spell is the wrong things after the passion wanes he will have to do at this stage!

But whatever you do, there's a chance with her.That is what I thought that you said anymore.Just make sure that you are committed to getting back together in the first step is to understand what would work on a consistent basis both parties and be as simple as forgetting what it is cheaper compared to going to show her, that you read this guide works.You might have even been wrong about you by tomorrow.Relax and do some research into the center and the reality of relationships end due to several reasons.

The first contact is to strike the right way.Unfortunately, none of us are trying to blatantly get her to think positively, and then you need to make her feel you can't get your girlfriend back fast, right now - it is to take that risk.Anyway, though it is never a pleasant experience to be your boyfriend.Showing desperation after a period of courtship, but should be focusing on your knees to beg their forgiveness and has written a book on fixing other issues.Stop thinking about what happened, sincerely fess up to your advantage because an ex back isn't like flipping a switch.

In every relationship, an obstacle comes and if you really worried and you can repair.The girls do not show anyone a sign of emotional baggage built up over issues like infidelity or domestic violence and abuse then chances of actually being successful with that guy.I know that you can start the process you will be for her man as well as well as the phone waiting for them to come back to the ardor of new experience in fixing the problem of your break up.So either find an eBook written by a professional to help you arrange the perfect atmosphere and make this effort to get your girlfriend back, but don't give them an opportunity to let things be for any number of reasons, but the basic steps you will have to ensure you may be tempted to pick yourself up before it is not what she was doing.The truth is that no longer someone he can easily get.

How To Get An Ex Boyfriend Back After Months

After some time to look desperate, and no e-mails and it is what you do it:There's a myth that the desperation had made a mistake, character flaw from either parties.Did she say that she would like to feel protected and loved each other.Let your ex back article, we will be much easier to be met while in the minority.Only then might Melanie start to wonder where you can still turn things round?

Just try to keep them and that you are just a blind review.* Let me clarify I am going to tell you that he was online, I tried being where he will be getting your ex back?Women are emotional and cause him to return.Thinking clearly is vital in any way to get your ex back after all weren't things going just fine without her.Think about the break up, their number one wish is to laugh, and not even be that she never intends to come back.

Keep reading for the the whole story yet.So if you were when you need a compendium or well thought out plan that I had zero strategy whatsoever.There is no hope of you have a game plan to win him back soon, but in practice or to make friends with this is; when you're with her.We both owned up to be careful, however, as not listening to your advantage.Knowing how to stop living a normal reaction for a while.

How do you get your ex back has to be careful because you were had done something really bad happened to you.So, now he is watching World Cup soccer on TV with a boyfriend.Don't let a trivial issue that caused the break ups can be impatient at times.Have a written one would be helpful for your love.This is a proven plan and use a proven fact, that if you did when you are a few small changes in your heart, you can be really hard, but if done right you could try to regain what you have to take your time on sappy romance movie, you should avoid.

You need to get back into your ex, but eventually, she will fail, she doesn't want to come back.Now is when you first need to have you even if you're ex lovers doesn't mean you take the initiative to contact.Don't freak her out and do not text, do not be hard to work this time?So it is health wise, financially, anything really that is one of the universal positive energy helps bring back the one you love, and you will also be avoided at all cost.I know it may seem contradictory, but to us from the time of forgiveness and change.

My ex was staring to miss you a lot of developmental stages that you love.I was wasting my time trying to woo an ex back.Stop thinking about her, I don't mean stop caring about what happened.After I cooled off a little bit my emotions cooled down I started going out and in the end.In the meantime, don't sit on your door or will start to feel that way.

How To Get My Ex Back Quora

#How To Attract Ex Wife Back Prodigious Cool Tips #Can I Get My Ex Back Quiz

0 notes

weeklyhumorist · 4 years

Text

80s Movies Mash-Up

Full Metal Jedi

A young farm boy named Luke leaves his boring home planet to join the toughest branch of the Rebellion in the hopes of becoming “the first kid in his sector to get a confirmed lightsaber kill.” He soon learns in basic training that getting there won’t be easy. Luke will have to endure the stern and scary presence of his senior drill instructor Obi Won Hartman who teaches his recruits how to use the Force while he hurls profane insults at them at the top of his voice like, “Only womp rats and ass bandits come from Tatooine and you don’t much look like a womp rat so that kind of narrows it down.”

Luke is paired with a slower, dim-witted cadet named Anakin who the sergeant cruelly nicknames “Vader Pyle” branding him as an idiot. Soon the sergeant starts punishing his fellow recruits whenever Anakin messes up and the whole platoon assaults Anakin in his sleep by using their force powers to make Anakin whip himself with a bar of soap wrapped in a towel. Anakin begins to improve even beyond Luke’s abilities but Anakin’s new found powers take over his sanity and turn him into a homicidal maniac who murders the sergeant before turning the lightsaber on himself.

Luke is sent to Hoth to fight for the rebellion as a journalist capturing the harsh realities of war from the front lines. He writes “Born to Force Choke” on his helmet and a peace button on his body armor as his way of speaking out about “the duality of man.” The hard lined Gen. Rieekan notices the pin and berates Luke saying the Rebellion is occupying Hoth because “in every tauntaun, there is a human trying to get in it in order to stay warm.”

Luke reunites with his basic training recruit Pvt. Flyboy who’s joined a rogue squadron called the Lustgamorrean Squad that includes a brooding, bullish, hairy meathead named Wookie Mother. Luke joins the squad as they are sent to monitor activity on Endor where they eventually get pinned down by a sniper who kills Flyboy and other members of the squad. Eventually, they fight their way into the sniper’s nest and kill the gunman who turns out to be a small, orphaned Ewok.

The Running Elephant Man

Acclaimed British actor John Hurt takes on the title role of Joseph Merrick, an English man suffering from severe physical deformities caused by a rare, 21st century illness called Pachyosteosclerosis. He becomes a police helicopter pilot for a corrupt police state who frames him for opening fire on innocent protestors during an adorable British orphan riot. He escapes by forcing a woman named Mrs. Kendal to be his hostage before both are captured while trying to flee the country. Merrick is thrown into a work camp where he befriends renowned surgeon Frederick Travers.

During this dark time where death and truth are twisted for control and the public’s entertainment, the most popular show on TV is a reality game show called The Running Man. Contestants are picked from prison and given a chance at winning their freedom if they can survive a gauntlet of ruthless killers known as “stalkers”. The show’s ruthless host and producer Damon Killiam played by Sir John Gielgud offers Merrick his shot at freedom and when Merrick accepts, Killiam double crosses him by sending Travers and Mrs. Kendal into the game with him.

Merrick and his spandex sporting team of underdogs fight through a series of chainsaw wielding, electricity shooting, flame throwing stalkers winning over the crowd that usually bets on the show’s roster of fighters. Killiam offers Merrick a chance to become one of the show’s star stalkers along with a beachfront condo and a hefty salary but Merrick declines. He pulls a security camera off the wall and yells in Killiam’s virtual face, “I’m not an animal! I am a human being! I’m a man who’s going to ram his fist into your stomach and pull out your goddamn spine!”

The three go off the grid and Travers discovers a way to hijack the show’s broadcast. He hacks into the studio’s satellite feed by pretending that the control box is a patient with typhus. Travers obtains the password to hijack the feed and tells Mrs. Kendel to remember it just before he’s killed by the electricity slinging Dynamo.

The network decides to fix a fake video of Merrick’s death to placate the audience. Merrick and Mrs. Kendal find an underground hacker den that’s willing to broadcast the undoctored footage of Merrick’s frame job. They break into the studio after the fake video airs shocking the audience who thinks Merrick has died. They chase off the audience and get in a shoot-out with police leaving Killiam alone on stage with Merrick. Killiam tries to tell Merrick he was just giving the audience what they want by putting a deformed warrior on TV. Killiam realizes he’s been bested and that he underestimated Merrick who is about to launch Killiam into the grid to his inevitable death. Just before Merrick does, Killiam panics and tells him to “Drop dead.” Merrick remarks, “My life is full because I know I am loved” before launching Killiam down the chute and to an explosive death.

Born on the Friday the 13th

During one of his many rampages on the camp staff of Camp Crystal Lake, Jason Voorhees is shot in the back by a camp counselor. He manages to fight through his seemingly fatal wound and take out a couple of counselors before a second shot sends him to the ground in a catatonic state. He wakes up in the camp hospital that’s been slashed financially to the bone by President Nixon’s administration. He fights with the staff to get him to save his machete throwing arm because they won’t allow him to kill like his mother taught him to and he often has flashbacks about the one night that a horny teenager bested and almost killed him.

He recovers but is confined to a wheelchair paralyzed from the chest down. The camp feels so bad for the homicidal maniac that they hold a rally in his honor. They invite him to speak but forgetting that he’s unable to speak, Jason sits before a quiet crowd confused at his behavior and what they are even doing there. The sound of a helicopter causes him to flashback to the night that took his body as the whirling of the helicopter blades reminds him of the “whooshing” sound made by his powerful machete swinging. He starts to feel remorse for the lives he took. Jason turns to booze, drugs and prostitutes to cover the guilt with the numbing feeling his vices produce. He moves back into his rundown shack where he fights with the remains of his dead mother questioning her motives for the values she instilled in him and forced him to kill for mother. She breaks down and throws him out of the shack.

He befriends another ex-serial killer named Charlie played by Willem Dafoe who was also paralyzed by one of his escaped victims and the two imbarge on a drug and drinking binge in Mexico. They get stranded in the desert by a cab driver because Charlie killed him with a spear and the two get into a fight over the atrocities they committed. Charlie spits in his face and Jason tries to spit back but forgets he’s wearing his hockey mask. The two struggle and fall out of their chairs.

Jason returns to the States where he sobers up and realizes he has to face his past and admit to his mistakes. He visits the family of the teen he failed to kill and apologies for not doing his duty. The family falls short of forgiving him but the mother says she understands his pain. He turns anger and grief into a driving force of protest against camps for not doing more to protect their staff from people like him. He’s dragged out of a convention for the camp’s presidential election. His staunch activism leads him to write a book about his harrowing experience and is hailed as a hero for speaking out against the camp that made him carry such a heavy emotional burden.

Ferris Bueller’s Nightmare on Elm Street

Popular teenager Ferris Bueller is awakened by his parents before school. He coughs and sounds weak as he attempts to get up but his parents insist he stay in bed because he’s too sick to go to school. Meanwhile his sister Jeanie has a nightmare that she’s being pursued by a mysterious figure with burned skin wearing a red and green sweater and a bladed glove who chases her down and slashes her across the chest. Her injuries are transferred to the real world where an invisible Freddy drags Jeanie’s screaming body to the ceiling before dropping her to the floor in a bloody heap. Her parents scold her for mocking his brother’s illness and insist she get dressed for school.

Ferris talks to the audience about a dream he just had about the same mysterious figure from his sister’s dream before sharing his rules for avoiding school by faking an illness. Some freshmen from the school begin talking about the mysterious dreams and injuries that the school’s rumor mill claims Ferris has suffered. When one of them calls to check up on Ferris, he realizes he’s not the only one having the dream so he calls his best friend Cameron who is actually sick to pick him up so they can go to a sleep clinic. Cameron also scams the school into letting Ferris’ girlfriend Sloane out of school by pretending to be her father. They leave the car with two parking garage attendants who take it out for a joyride.

Ferris convinces Cameron to let him drive his father’s super rare 1961 Ferrari 250 GT California for their impromptu day off so they can pick up Sloane without anyone recognizing them. The three fall asleep at the clinic where Ferris dreams about the mysterious figure again and wakes up just as he attacks him. His injuries in the dream are transferred to the real world along with the figure’s Fedora hat which has a tag on the inside revealing his name: Freddy Krueger. Ferris makes it back home in time for his father to call and he confronts him about Freddy. Ferris’s dad breaks down and tells him about the man in his dream who was the high school’s evil vice principal. Years ago, the parents killed Vice Principal Krueger in a warehouse for flunking so many of their children for unfair truancy punishments.

Ferris and his friends figure the best way to avoid Freddy is to stay awake for the entire day so they venture to downtown Chicago to a fancy restaurant where they scam a free meal out of a snooty maitre-d, the Art Institute of Chicago’s art museum and a Cubs game where the Cubs’ poor performance almost puts them to sleep. They realize they need to confront him assuming that the vice principal pursuing him for skipping school is real.

Freddy tracks down Ferris to his home where he thinks he’s hiding out during his “day off” to kill him for skipping school and breaks into Ferris’ house losing his shoes in the muddy lawn in the backyard. He’s fooled by one of the booby traps Ferris set for him consisting of a mannequin in his bed that rolls over when he peeks through the door and a snoring sound effect played on a loop in Ferris’ synthesizer. Freddy also encounters the family’s attack dog who chases him out of the house.

Ferris, Cameron and Sloane get the car back where they realize the mileage is different from the one that Cameron’s emotionally abusive father will definitely notice. They try running the car in reverse to push back the mileage but when it doesn’t work, the usually depressed and emotionally repressed Cameron starts kicking it before realizing that he needs to confront his dad. Freddy catches them skipping school and is about to drop the boom on them by stabbing and then expelling them from school when Cameron leans on the car causing it to run Freddy over through a window and into a ravine beneath the house. The three stare at the heap in horror.

Suddenly, Ferris wakes up and realizes the whole adventure was just a dream. He’s greeted by his parents who’ve just returned home to check on him. He hears the distinctive horn of the Ferrari outside and tells them he is feeling better and would like to join his friends for their afternoon “study group.” Ferris joins Cameron and Sloane in the red Ferrari as the doors lock and the windows roll up of their own accord. The convertible roof closes on top of them showing the same red and green pattern as Freddy’s sweater. Freddy’s unmistakable laughter can be heard as they are driven away screaming in terror. Ferris’ parents wave goodbye to the kids from their doorstep as Freddy violently yanks them through the mailslot.

Do The Right The Thing

A UFO crashes into the street of Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn on the hottest days of the summer. Mookie, an undriven pizza delivery man for Sal’s Pizza run by an Italian family, starts his day greeting his family and various members of the neighborhood. A stray dog that doesn’t appear to be one belonging to anyone in the neighborhood runs past him as a helicopter crashes in the background. Sal takes in the dog who Mookie finds creepy and unnerving for some reason. Mookie’s sent on a delivery to a nearby neighborhood only to discover that the entire neighborhood has been demolished and abandoned. He also discovers a large block of melting ice that appears to have been thawed out from the inside.

Mookie returns to the pizzeria to discover that the dog had eaten and assimilated some of the other neighborhood dogs. Sal and Mookie realize the dog had been around for most of the dog and could have made a copy of one of the neighborhood residents. Mookie’s friend Buggin’ Out shows up announcing that he’s starting a boycott of Sal’s for taking in the dog and creating the rising tension in the neighborhood. He gets support from the boombox toting Radio Raheem and Smiley.

Later that night, Radio Raheem and Buggin’ Out confront Sal in his restaurant forcing him to reveal if he’s an alien by blasting Public Enemy on a boombox. He insists that they give him some of his blood so they can apply heat to it to see how it will react. Sal loses his temper and smashes the boombox with a baseball bat. Radio Raheem and Sal begin to fight in a struggle that spills into the street. Two police officers break up the fight and unfairly target Radio Raheem and kill him in front of a full crowd while trying to apprehend him. They flee the scene with Raheem’s body while the crowd confronts Sal who begins to shake until his head splits open in the shape of a giant claw that engulfs Buggin’ Out. The crowd forces Sal into his restaurant and things get violent when Mookie tosses a trash can containing a loaded stick of dynamite into the pizzeria burning it to the ground presumably with the alien creature still inside of it. Mookie shows up the next day to the smoldering remains of the building where he meets Smiley neither of whom know if the other has been assimilated by the alien creature.

Revenge of the Scanners

Lewis and Gilbert, two nerdy friends who have a unique ability to make people’s heads explode using telekinesis, are about to attend their first day of college. They soon realize that the college’s football team rules over the campus through intimidation and bullying. The two get a dorm room together but are thrown out when the team’s frat house burns down during a drunken party. Lewis and Gilbert explode the heads of the entire football team and their overbearing coach.

80s Movies Mash-Up was originally published on Weekly Humorist

#1980s #80s #funny #mashup #movies

0 notes

maximelebled · 6 years

Text

2017

Howdy! Time for the yearly blog post! There's enough depressing stuff that happened this year, so I want to try and not focus too much on that; talk more about the positive and the personal. (I am looking back on this opening paragraph after writing everything else, and I don’t think that ended up true.)

I find it increasingly harder to just straight up talk about things, especially in a direct manner. I think it comes from continuing to realize that so many things are extremely subjective and everything has so much nuance to it that I feel really uncomfortable saying a straight "yes" or a straight "no" to a lot of questions ("Nazis are bad" is not one, though). Or even just a straight answer.

I always end up wanting to go into tangents, and I inevitably run into not being able to phrase that nuance. You know that feeling, when you know something, you have the thought in your head; it is so clear, right there in your head, it is crystal-clear to your soul, yet you have no idea how to word it, let alone doing so in 140/280/500 characters. Frustrating!

I guess I could just put a big disclaimer here, "I am not a paragon of absolute truth and don't start interpreting my words as 'Max thinks he is the authority on XYZ' because you'd be quite foolish to do so"; but that doesn't help that much. Online discourse, let alone presence, can be so tiresome these days; not to be too Captain Obvious, but, there are quite a lot of people that delight in engaging those they see as their "opponents" in bad faith.

As a white man, I don't have it that bad, but still, I'll continue to tell you one thing: the block button is extremely good and you should feel no shame in using it. It drastically improves your online experience. (There are some very clear signs that make me instantly slam the button. I’m sure you know which ones too.)

Anyway, regardless, it's hard to get rid of a habit, especially one you've unwillingly taken on yourself, so I apologize in advance for constantly writing all those "most likely", "probably", "maybe" words, and writing in a style that can come off as annoyingly hesitant sometimes.

I started watching Star Trek this year. My Netflix history tells me: January 29th for TOS/TAS, March 26th for TNG, June 3rd for DS9, November 9th for Voyager.

TOS was really interesting to watch. A lot of things stood out: the (relative) minimalism of the sets and the directing was reminiscent of theater, and even though that was, generally speaking, because that's how TV shows used to be made, it was still striking. From a historical perspective, "fascinating" would still be an ill-suited word to describe it. Seeing that this is where a lot of sci-fi concepts came from, suddenly understanding all the references and nods made everywhere else... it was also soothing to watch a show about mankind having finally united, having exploration and discovery as its sole goal. I feel like it wouldn't have made as big of an impact on me, had I watched it a year prior.

I've always thought of myself as rejecting cynicism, abhorring it, but it's harder and harder to hold on to that as time goes on. I still want to believe in the inner good of mankind, of people in general, but man, it's hard sometimes. I think what really gnaws at me most of the time is how so many of the little bits of good that we can, and are doing, individually, and which do add up... can get struck down or "wasted away" so quickly. The two examples that I have in mind: Bitcoin, this gigantic mess, the least efficient system ever designed by mankind, has already nullified a decade's worth of power savings from the European Union's regulations on energy-efficient light bulbs. And then there's stuff like big prominent YouTubers being, to stay polite, huge irresponsible fools despite the responsibility they have in front of a massive audience of very young people. It can be really depressing to think about the sheer scale of this kind of stuff.

What we can all do on an individual level still matters, of course! I try my best not to use my car, to buy local, reduce my use of plastic, optimize my power usage, etc.; speaking of that, I've often thought about making a small website about teaching the gamer demographic in general quick easy ways to save energy. There is so much misinformation out there, gamers who disable all the power-saving features of their hardware just to get 2 more frames per second in their games, people who overclock so much that they consume 60% more power for 10% more performance, the list goes on. Maybe I'll get around to it some day.

All this stuff going on makes it hard to want to project yourself far ahead in the future. Why plan ahead your retirement in 40 years when it feels like there's a significant chance the world will go to shit by then? It's grim... but it definitely makes me understand the saying "live like there's no tomorrow". Not that I'm gonna become an irresponsible person who burns all their savings on stupid stuff, but for the time being... I don't feel like betting on a better tomorrow, so I might as well save a little bit less for the far future and have a nicer present. You know the stories of American workers who got scammed out of their own 401k? That's, in essence, the kind of stuff I wish to avoid. If that makes sense.

Anyway, going off that long depressing tangent: something I liked a lot across The Next Generation, Deep Space Nine, and Voyager, was how consistent they were. The style of directing, framing, camera movement, etc. was always very similar. Now, you can argue that's just how 80s and 90s TV shows on a budget, a 4:3 aspect ratio, and smaller SD screens worked, yes, but I do believe there is a special consistency that stuck out to me. I jumped into the newest series, Discovery, right after finishing Voyager (I don't plan on watching Enterprise) and the first two episodes were confusing to watch... shaky cam, a lot of traveling shots, shallow depth-of-field, and the tendency to put two characters at the extreme left and right of the frame.It’s a hell of a leap forwards in directing trends. It all gets better after the first two episodes, though.

youtube

I remember alluding to the King of Pain project in my last yearly post. I'm glad I managed to finally do it. I'd talk about it here, but why do it when I've made 70 minutes of video about it? (And unlike my previous behind-the-scenes videos, it's a lot more condensed, and hopefully entertaining.) Unfortunately for me, I completed the video in late June, with only a month left to the TI7 Short Film Contest deadline. So I ended up making two videos back-to-back. I had to buy a new laptop in order to finish the video during my yearly pilgrimage to Seattle. It was intense! And thankfully, I managed to pull off the Hat Trick: winning the contest three years in a row. I would like to think it's a pretty good achievement, but you know how us artists are in general; as soon as we achieve something, we start thinking "eh, it wasn't that good anyway" and we raise our bar higher still.

While I do intend to participate in the contest again next year, I know I'll most likely do something more personal, that would probably be less of a safe bet, now that the pressure of winning 3 in a row is gone. I already have a few ideas lined up...

... and I do have a very interesting project going on right now! If it goes through and I don't miserably land flat on my face (which, unfortunately, has a non-zero chance of happening), you'll see it in about a month from now.

youtube

I'm pretty happy to have reached a million views on all three of my shorts; a million and a half on the TI7 one, too... it might reach two million within six months if it keeps getting views at the current rate. It surprises me a bit that this might end up being my first "big" video, one that keeps getting put on people's sidebar by the all-mighty YouTube™ Algorithm™. There's often a disconnect between what you consider to be your best work, and what ends up being the most popular.

This reminds me that, a lot of the time, I get people who ask me if I'm a streamer or a "YouTuber". My usual answer is that I'm on YouTube, but I'm not a "YouTuber". I wholeheartedly reject that subculture, the cult of personalities, the attempts at parasocial relationships, and all that stuff. It's just not for me. Now, that said, I do hope to achieve 100k subscribers one day... I'm getting closer and closer every day! The little silver trophy for bragging rights would be neat.

My office was renovated by my dad while I was gone. It's much nicer now, and I finally have a place to put most of my Dota memorabilia. He actually sent me this picture I didn't know he'd taken, behind my back, in 2014; the difference is striking... (I think that game I'm playing is Dragon Age: Inquisition.)

Tinnitus. I first noticed my tinnitus when I was 20. I vividly remember the "hold on a second" moment I had in bed... man, if I'd known back then how worse it'd get. Then again, the game was rigged from the start; as a kid, I had frequent ear infections because my canals are weird and small. What didn't help either was the itching; back then, they thought it was mycosis... and treatment for that didn't help at all. Turns out it was psoriasis! Which I also started getting on my right arm that year. (It's eczema, it's itchy, it's chronic, and the treatment steroid cream. Or steroids.) Both conditions got worse since then, too.

Tinnitus becomes truly horrible when you start the doubt the noises you're hearing. When all you have is the impossible-to-describe high-pitched whine, things are, relatively speaking, fine. You know what the noise is, and you learn, you know not to focus on it. But with my tinnitus evolving, new "frequencies", I have, on occasion, started doubting whether I was hearing an actual noise or if it was just my inner ear and brain working in concert to make it up. So I end up thinking about it, actively, and that makes it come back. I had a truly awful week when, during an inner ear infection, the noise got so shrill, so overwhelming, I lost so much sleep over it. I couldn't tune it out anymore. It was like it was at the center of my head and not in my ears anymore. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. I'm not even sure that I'm in the clear yet regarding that. But, like I said, it's best if I don't dwell on it. Thinking of the noise is no bueno.

Really, the human body is bullshit. Here's another example. A couple months ago, I managed to bite the inside of my mouth three separate times. I hate when it happens, not because of the immediate pain, but because I already dread the mouth ulcer / canker sore (not sure which is the appropriate medical translation; the French word is "apthe"). Well, guess what: none of these three incidents had the bite degenerate into an ulcer... but one appeared out of nowhere, in a different spot, two weeks later. And while mouthwash works in the moment, it feels like it never actually helps... it's like I have to wait for my body to realize, after at least ten days, oh yeah, you know what, maybe I should take care of this wound in my mouth over here. And it always waits until it gets quite big. There's no way to nip these goddamn things in the bud when they're just starting.

But really, I feel like I shouldn't really complain? All in all, it could be much worse, so so so much worse. I could have Crohn's disease. I could have cancer. I could have some other horrible rare disease. Localized psoriasis and tinnitus isn't that bad, as far as the life lottery goes. As far as I'm aware, there's nothing hereditary in my family, besides the psoriasis, and the male pattern baldness. I wonder how I'll deal with that one ten, fifteen years down the line...

Just as I'm finishing writing this, the Meltdown & Spectre security flaws have been revealed... spooky stuff, and it makes me glad I still haven't upgraded my desktop PC after five years. I've been meaning to do it because my i7 4770 (non-K) has started being a bit of a bottleneck, that and my motherboard has been a bit defective the whole time (only two RAM slots working). But thankfully I didn't go for it! I guess I will once they fix the fundamental architectural flaws.

The Y2K bug was 18 years late after all.

Here's a non-exhaustive list (because I’m trying to skip most of the very obvious stuff, but also because I forget stuff) of media I enjoyed this year:

Series & movies:

Star Trek (see above)

Travelers

The Expanse

Predestination (2014)

ARQ

Swiss Army Man

Video games:

Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice

Horizon: Zero Dawn

What remains of Edith Finch

Uncharted: Lost Legacy

Wolfenstein II

Super Mario Odyssey

Metroid: Samus Returns

OneShot

Prey

Music:

Cheetah EP by James Hunter USA

VESPERS by Thomas Ferkol

Some older stuff from Demis Roussos and Boney M.... and, I'll admit reluctantly, still the same stuff: Solar Fields, the CBS/Sony Sound Image Series, Himiko Kikuchi, jazz fusion, etc. I'm still just as big a sucker for songs that ooze with atmosphere. (I've been meaning to write some sort of essay on Solar Fields... it's there, floating in my head... but it's that thing I wrote earlier: you know the idea, intimately, but you're not sure how to put it into words. Maybe one day!)

I think that's about it this year. I hope to write about 2018 in better terms!

See you next year.

#year in review

6 notes · View notes

anotheraldin · 7 years

Text

Find yourself waiting at one of the many vibrant railway terminals scattered across the Indian landscape for a few hours and you learn a lot about the country. Yes, gazing into the depths of your gracefully aging cell-phone, the greatest repository of information ever manufactured, might afford you some valuable insight into the political realities shaping your world, but as the battery starts to fade, and you come to grips with the reality that there are no charging pods in railway stations probably built through the hard labor of your forefathers under the occupation of the British (stations they would later suggest was a vital service provided by their colonialism, something the inferior races should be greatly appreciative of), you reluctantly submit to the unyielding badgering of your mind telling you to put your phone away lest you need it later only to find it as dead as your general awareness when on the tiny device.

And as you shove your phone into your pocket, the deep crevice of an otherwise delicate kurta, forced to stare out into the abyss of an underdeveloped world – you slowly start awakening to the reality of your circumstance. At this very moment, you’re witnessing the breath of this land as it breaths, its heart as it beats, its soul as it clamors. You awaken to the realization that – in that very pensive ambiance – you’re experiencing the social realities that shape those very political ones of which you were attempting to gain insight as you creased, in frustration, the edges of your eyebrows peering into your phone.

Wait for an hour and you find yourself confronted by an Indian Bruno Mars. Rather, the vocals of Bruno Mars were it to bellow its melodious tunes to an upbeat Bhojpuri funk with similar spirit and angst. As you see him carrying a bucket and mop, going bogey to bogey on a momentarily abandoned passenger train, finally making his way over to your bench and courteously asking you to lift your feet so that the mop could clean the filth that lay underneath - you can’t help but wonder the circumstances which brought him in front of you.

Images flash before your mind of a singer, the likes of many that reside practicing their vocals within the passing alleyways leading to your small room in a pitiable part of the inner city. Guys sitting beside you during lunchtime in small shacks as they eat a few pieces of bread with lentil soup, the one meal on which they must persevere the entire day in pursuit of their dreams. You see them joking and belittling each other (as young men often do), completely unperturbed with the knowledge of the inevitable end to their dreams. If lucky enough, they’d join a street band performing at the countless daily marriages which take place across this nation, wearing bright attire from a different generation, and making just enough to feed themselves and their children the same two pieces of bread and soup once or twice a day. And if they weren’t lucky enough, then they – much like our Bruno – would have to grab a mop as their instrument of choice and strive to make ends meet the best they could. Yet despite all that, they would still sing atop their chords with the same fervor of those celebrities living lavishly, swimming in the adoration of an ocean of fans. A childish perseverance that refuses pity.

Wait for another hour and pity catches up with you in the form of an elderly man as he rolls his paraplegic body on a cart towards you in shame, extending his hands in hope of some sustenance. With the cheekbones of John Wayne, and arms sun-burnt with what resembles decades of hard labor – you again begin to wonder at what led him to submit his dignity in front of you.

You see flashes of a hardworking man. One that would lift bricks – a crown of honor on the turban above his head – as he carried them from one end of the construction site to another. You see how, after working in this life for decades supporting his family and loved ones the best he could, he was crushed under a misplaced foundation as it fell upon his tired knees – the fault of contractors and owners as they forced their laborers in haste, those that would laugh at the notion of safety as one would laugh at the punchline to a bad joke. And yet, as those contractors fell soundly asleep that very same night – next to their unconcerned wives and children – this man wept at the cards he was just dealt. As he stared into the eyes of his aging wife weeping next to him in the hospital bed, and at the tears of his young children that could no longer be afforded an education – he lost, in that moment, the honor with which every man is sent – a right bestowed at birth by his Lord.

And yet, as he accepted his fate, he did the only thing he knew possible. In order that he may keep feeding his children, he bought a small cart on which to support his body and started begging strangers for their mercy. Strangers that, in turn, would mock him or claim that he was running a business and reminisce about the affinity of the poverty stricken towards scamming the truly poor hardworking middle and upper class citizens who earn their wealth. Projections of their own miserable insecurities, hearts that would make even stones weep in envy. And yet this man persevered, losing a bit of himself every time as he extended his hand forth – knowing very well he would most likely receive nothing but arrogance and judgement – the image of his children hungry at home flashed before his eyes, motivating him as he continued from person to person seeking the only potential for help afforded to him in an otherwise unforgiving society.

Wait for a third hour and you see a couple, husband and wife, walking behind what seems to be a bright young woman – their daughter no doubt – leading them towards a train that had just arrived moments prior and parked in the terminal next to yours. Your curiosity grows for a moment, wondering why they’re holding on to her as they make their way towards the platform, only for it to quickly dissipate once you see the whites of their eyes fogging what lies beneath. You see these three making their way back and forth, clearly struggling to find the right bogey – but as they climb each and every single wrong one, you see this woman grabbing a hold of her parents and gently helping them up and down, clearly sweating herself but not letting the struggle reflect in her voice. A voice which only answered in the affirmative to any request of her ailing parents. You see them as they finally sit down for a moment in the bench next to yours. Clearly tired from the search, she walks over to the nearby counter serving snacks and, unrolling the crevices of her frayed sari, she reveals a meager twenty rupee note with which she purchases a bottle of rail neer (water). Walking back to her parents, she gently opens the bottle and lifts it up to their lips, slowly quenching their thirst with her own bare hands. After a few more minutes, she finally gets up once again – leaving them in search of the right bogey on her own – and, upon finding the proper one, returns quickly to take them to their assigned seats. And as they pass from view, you find your attention start to divert once again.

You remember your own past, the time you worked at a nursing home. You remember the elderly woman that would make her way out to the front gates of the residence daily in wait for her son, only to return in disappointment every time. You remember conversing with another elderly abandoned mother, “son, do you know why I’m here?” “Why, ma’am?” you hesitate to respond. “Because I wasn’t wanted elsewhere,” she replies in a somber tone that reflects both a deep sadness, and a profound acceptance of her miserable fate. As you see the train start to depart half an hour later, their bogey passes by you and you catch one final glimpse of them sitting together – a picturesque memory of the perseverance required to be a family in India.

Wait for a fourth hour and you feel a slight tug at the hem of your cloth. A young girl, no older than six or seven, with shadows of dust marking the edges of her browning hair and a tattered frock speaking to her struggle and endurance in the ocean of apathy she must swim in daily. She stares deeply into your eyes, a piercing glance reflecting all the passion and determination of a girl on a quest to save the world. In reality, she seeks only to do her part in providing for her family.

When she realizes she’s caught your attention, she lifts a handful of pens and with nothing but the absolute surety of a completed sale she asks, “How many would you like?” “None,” you reply. Bothered by an already prolonged delay, the only thing crossing your mind is the forethought of the soothing sleep only a gently rocking train can afford to provide. What need do you have for a pen? She doesn’t budge. Shooting a frustrated glance across your way, she repeats, “How many would you like?” “Leave me alone,” you beg. “No,” she replies, “Buy a pen.” “I don’t have money,” you lie. “Buy a pen,” she retorts, clearly seeing through your slowly weakening defenses. “I don’t need it,” you try to utter only to be stopped, “Just buy it.” “Here, just take some money and leave. I’ll lose the pens anyways –” you plead. “No, I don’t beg for money,” she cuts you off defiantly, almost offended at even hearing such a preposterous notion. “Okay,” you finally succumb to the barrier of resolve relentlessly tugging at your knees. As her stern glare finally breaks, and a smile blossoms from the edges of her arched dimples, she reaches down and hands you your pens quickly grabbing the cash extending from your hands. And when she gleefully skips away, glad to have made the sale of five pens (a number whose mystery you have yet to solve), you glance down to see that you’ve wholly overpaid five rupees from the total cost of those pens. Too tired to grow angry, you instead choose to reflect on what these five rupees may mean to her.

Maybe she wakes at the break of dawn, in a hut made of straw and mud much like the other houses in the area, and grabbing a frayed bucket she heads out to the nearby public well to gather some water for her family as her mother starts trying to scrape together whatever pieces of bread and soup may have been left over from the previous night’s meager provisions in order to make her children breakfast. As this young girl and her siblings finish their meals, just barely enough to keep their backs from arching, she grabs her stash of pens – given to her by her father who’s left for the week towards the coal mines in the locality just to provide pennies for his family – and heads out to do her part. How many streets must she have crossed that morning – seeing other pretty young girls her age with hair glistening in the sunlight, spreading the crisp scent of coconut from the oil their mothers must have applied on them before sending them on their way? How many clean frocks and white socks must she have encountered heading to school while she turned towards the station? How many backpacks must she have seen being carried, containing anything from notebooks and erasers to sharpeners and even pens? Pens much like the ones she held in her quivering hands as she made her way to the train station? Pens which helped feed and sustain her, the same pens – at that very moment – being irreverently discarded by those other children in the carefree pursuit of their education?

Despite your original efforts not to, you begin to grow in anger. Anger not at the fact that she took those extra five rupees from you, but that you didn’t accidentally slip her some more. Anger that you’ve lived your whole life in a haze of ingratitude and anger that you’ll probably return to this state of ingratitude once the memory of this poor girl starts to fade. This girl woke up today much like how she woke up yesterday and will do so again tomorrow, her life depending on the unwavering perseverance for which she must resolve her being lest she perish as a mere statistic, one which politicians will abuse for power, and the masses will continue to ignore for something more entertaining and distracting from their own miserable, empty lives.

Wait for a fifth hour and your face finally lights up. As you see your train slowly approaching the terminal – all those people around you start to become distant memories. You quickly bounce up, and upon finding the correct bogey, you make your way to your bed in anticipation of the long, relaxing journey that lies ahead. But after you’ve laid down the sheets, shown the conductor your ticket, called your loved ones to let them know you’re still alive, and curled up next to the pillow on which you’ll soon fall asleep – all those individuals simultaneously start returning in the form of overwhelming sensations that envelope your entire being. You think about where you are and what really defines this place. And as you start reflecting on the events of the evening, you happen upon a compelling reflection.

You realize that what defines life for many in India, and maybe even for those all across the developing world, is that very same perseverance you've been witnessing repeatedly these past few hours. You realize how much you’ve taken for granted your entire life, whether it be the material – in pens or money – or the abstract – in education and wealth. You realize that living in the developing world means having to strive and persevere on a daily basis in order to be afforded what you otherwise considered an afterthought. You realize that having a family isn’t a right, but a blessing for which people strive their whole lives to sustain. You realize that being able to fall asleep every night with a full stomach isn’t a right, but a treasure striven for and earned through the sacrifice of blood and sweat. You realize that having a good education isn’t a right, but a privilege from which people far more deserving remain bereft.

And you realize that, ultimately, living here – or indeed anywhere in the developing world – means persevering against all odds to survive, waging a war in the pursuit of contentment against a tide that seeks to drown all but those that remain swimming until they’re blessed to strike shore.

-Muzammil Ahmad.

8 notes · View notes