#i was working with nothing but horrible call quality of the 5 minutes we has to talk and the police had taken my car and home keys

[rlmfanfic]

Interview with Mike from 2003

The following is the unabridged interview from Garreb Gilchron’s old FastForward website (note the dickish jab at Mike when Gilfalon calls it “the famously unreleased Gorilla Interrupted”). I’ve included all of the original photos from the site.

Mike is especially snarky throughout the interview, but some of my favorite lines are: 

“You're floundering in your own fabricated self worth.”

“The internet is cool, but it can be a tempting siren of laziness.”

“Never give up, never surrender. Unless you make porno.”

Sultan of Schlock: An interview with Mike Stoklasa 

Mike Stoklasa of GMP Pictures, along with his star performer Rich Evans, have been creating original comedy for over a decade. Mike’s insanely creative editing, filled with jump cuts, slow motion, warped audio and perfect comic timing, has been much imitated by those who’ve seen his many movies, but never duplicated. Although clearly comedies, the films of GMP rarely have jokes in them, making the audience laugh through sheer force of strangeness, and by constantly taking their expectations and subverting them. Mike’s last major release was The Long Walk Home, a brutal spoof of amateur films. 

Mike is very critical of all amateur films and filmmaking, keeping his own library of bad amateur movies, which he often spoofs in his own work. In person Mike comes off as very funny and very depressed. When he’s putting his heart into a project he can release more movies, and release them faster, than seemingly anyone else in the amateur movie world. When he’s unsatisfied with a project, he does nothing and lets the world know … as with the famously unreleased Gorilla Interrupted. He is currently trying to finish up shooting on the relatively expensive talking fruit epic, Oranges: Revenge of the Eggplant. 

Mike Stoklasa: My apartment is cold. 

Jason Santo: Mine too. Mike, you and your production company, GMP Pictures, have been making movies for many years now, resulting in what's been estimated at over 100 original productions. How do you manage such a prolific output? 

Stoklasa: You know... 

Santo: I do? 

Stoklasa: I ask myself that question. How we made like 9 "features" and all those short movies, and I'm not sure. I think the feature films are shitty, that helps. And the shorts are not well put together either so that helps too. GMP has sort of a midas touch of schlock comedy. 

Santo: So do you think quality has been compromised because you've put out so much?

Stoklasa: Depends on the definition of quality. Amateur movies and quality is a fine line. I've seen millions of movies about a guy with a gun, often well-shot but with lame subject matter and horrible acting. You just can't watch it. but they may have spent a year making it. In comparison something we slap together in a day may be funnier and more entertaining. Our features take months, but they look like they took minutes so go figure. Amateur cinema is a dangerous thing. 

Santo: Dangerous? Why? 

Stoklasa: It's now in the hands of illiterate high school kids. Powerful PCs with complex editing capabilities are now in the hands of total morons, and it's sinking us all down like the Titanic.

Santo: Some would argue that the movies are getting better.

Stoklasa: I guess it can be liberating to some, but others will get lazy and want to rush ahead to the "special edition dvd" of the movie shot in their moms back yard. They're missing the point. I'm someone whose first movies were shot in-camera with one take each. I slowly worked up to a computer. I don't know, just seems like people are stupid now. Rushing things and making movies just to make them, not learning the important stuff. There are people who make movies not to make a movie, but to make a box for a movie. Like Guy McConnell. Promotional stuff really pisses me off … 

Santo: Is that because you don't feel you're good at it yourself, or is there something more base in your hatred for it?

Stoklasa: Because there's no point to have a trailer for a 5 minute film. Or a website or a t-shirt, its just self indulgence. It’s not hard to self promote things. It’s just like movies are secondary.

Santo: Part of the movie business is the business end of it. Are you saying people at the amateur level should forsake this?

Stoklasa: Yes, because there shouldn't be a "business" end to amateur movies. Unless you’re really trying to sell the stuff legitimately. Like when Random Foo sold me their compilation of films on the first Foo Base One tape. It was a very slick website, all the movies had titles and their own posters, but the films were just terrible! Like they thought the idea of these movies having titles and posters was cooler than the movies themselves. I paid 12 dollars for the tape, totally insane. There should be a certain level of quality achieved before one makes a theatrical release poster, website, and starts selling a film. It should be something they have worked hard on and invested money and time into, as to not confuse the buyer. 

Santo: So effort comes into play with all of this. In your mind, movies made with little or no effort should not be sold as a movie made by people working hard. 

Stoklasa: I guess. It's not so much about effort as it is about this new fascination with DVDs and all this marketing. It's like Rich said that all these people are just "playing film makers" especially all these new kids. Like these kids that come out and have a poster for a movie thats not even written yet. And they’re saying what will be on the special edition dvd when the movie is done. I’ve seen this many times. What's so special edition about their DVD? They need to focus on making movies, and learning how to work with actors, and what match cuts are, and how to use different shots, and how to record sound, and expose a good picture, and turn off the auto focus, and to move the dog out of the room when they are shooting. Adherence to the most basic rules. Learn moviemaking first. When you are at least competent, then go out and start selling. You can rush a movie all you want...if you know what you're doing. I wrote a feature script for Gorilla Interrupted in 5 hours and we shot the thing in less than 7 days. Granted it didn't turn out the best, but it still had some funny moments, and we got it done. We got shit done from experience. This darn Internet has taken the patience out of people, that’s my only gripe. No matter how many silly promotional things one makes, whether a movie is entertaining or not will always be the final determination.

Santo: So it's not necessarily that people are making "bad" movies that's got you upset, but rather the fact that they seem to be focusing more on the marketing aspect of things and not trying to learn the craft.

Stoklasa: I am made of walnuts. Yes. I love bad movies, I love good movies. I hate mediocre movies where people seemed less concerned about making a movie than they did about telling people they made a movie.

Santo: What is it that you love about making movies?

Stoklasa: The magic of creation. The magic of shooting a scene and then putting all the pieces together, to make it into something. That’s why I love editing so much. Taking what is sometimes junk and turning it into something. That’s why I like the Oranges stuff so much, cause we're making a miniature world and characters out of our voices, styrofoam, fruit, duct tape, wood, plastic, paint ....things that are in our houses everyday, but we take them and mold them and give them life. It's great fun to see that. Then add in sound and music and editing, and you've created a world out of nothing but your own creativity.

Santo: Have you made any movies that you would feel good about marketing and selling?

Stoklasa: I think this new Oranges film will be sellable. I like GMP’s more subversive and weird shorts. They appeal to people on a strange level, but none of that is sellable cause it’s just home movies.

Santo: So if you don't sell your movies, how do you get people to see them?

Stoklasa: Who cares if people see them? So they can say "good job, what’s next?"

Santo: What would be so bad about that? Why make movies if you don't want people to see them?

Stoklasa: I show them to people around me. Friends. Family. They matter. I show ‘em in South Dakota. Some screen name on the Internet doesn't matter to me. We’re trying to make a quality film now we can sell. I feel after all of my work I have finally learned enough to make something good. EVERYTHING before was just practice. And that’s one thing people don't get. They fall in love with their own movies (and themselves) a little too much. NO ONE wants to see you think you're funny acting like a hitman in your own basement. All these movies are just junk. Disposable junk. Everything I've done, up until the point I sell something, is basically, when you boil it down, just junk. The good you get from it is learning the craft a little more each time. They are not movies you make websites for, and posters, and special edition dvds! Not while millions of shot-on-film indie productions are struggling to make it out there. It's all a waste of time. To me amateur movies are really about learning for yourself and exploring your creativity. They’re not paid-for entertainment for other people.

Santo: So what's your advice to someone getting their start with a camcorder and an editing station: make movies, but show them only to friends and family? Don't start a website and create marketing materials until you actually have something good to show?

Stoklasa: It doesn't hurt I guess, but basically yes. Devote your time into getting good at making movies. Learn how to write a good script and so on. Don't rush the film to get it out on the internet. The internet is cool, but it can be a tempting siren of laziness. And if you feel your movies are bad and you're just copying other people, stop making movies and go out and play baseball.

Santo: So you believe the internet is partly to blame with the mediocrity some associate with amateur movies?

Stoklasa: Yes. Yes it is. The internet is hellspawn for movies .... mainly just newbies though. It’s good for people like Timberwolf that have Paypal and want to trick people into ordering their films with pictures of boobs. Because stuff like that is tough to get into stores, the lower lower end of B grade softcore schlock. But to the 15 year old who wants to copy-cat hollywood marketing with his film starring his little brother in a ninja costume... it's a bad thing. Cause the internet gives false hope to him. Back when I'd make a movie like that, people would want to turn it off... so you try to make one better. So your neighbors and relatives would like it. You try harder and harder to get it good; figure out how to put music in, figure out how to do that early chroma key effect so at one point someone would say "wow.” Rewind is a very bad thing cause we just say "good job" to these kids and their shit movies - Rewind is meant to be "supportive" of these kids, when they need to be told they suck so they try harder. They can not be told "good job," cause then they rush into the DVDs, and they think they’re good cause they have a poster that looks just like the one at the local cineplex. Amateur movies are about sucking. It’s the very nature of it. They aren't meant to be seen by human eyes, much less supported. This is where the misconception comes from that I hate amateur movies. I don't. I cherish them. I hate them being marketed or mistaken as Hollywood product. Or mislabeled, misrepresented as what they are : Rough drafts of talent yet to blossom.

Santo: So this odd clash that the amateur movie world is facing between independent cinema and amateur work - it shouldn't be happening?

Stoklasa: Yes. Queequeg Films is one of the few groups that has come the closet to actual marketable product, along with some other films, but 98% of the rest of it isn't marketable or useable in the Indie sense.

Santo: Do you think having an annual festival that invites the public to view amateur pictures is obscuring what amateur cinema is really all about?

Stoklasa: Yes I do. People don't want to admit it, but an amateur film festival is a contradiction. None of it is sellable to a distributor, and the public isn't too interested.

Santo: Some disagree with you on that...

Stoklasa: Mainly Rewinders filled the theater. To some it is entertaining, but to most public they'd spend their time elsewhere. I love Camp Rewind though, for personal reasons. Meeting people, hanging out. Rewind is now that metaphorical "friends and family" I spoke of since we all know each other.

Santo: So showing movies to people at REwind is a good thing. They can offer valuable feedback and help you move forward.

Stoklasa: If they offer that helpful feedback, sure. But people need to be meaner.

Santo: They’re not being truly supportive by just saying "Yes... very good job."

Stoklasa: Correct. I just think that when making a movie, people need to try hard, or don't try at all. 

Santo: So, as you’re working on a movie now that you believe you will be able to sell, will that mean you'll be leaving REwind?

Stoklasa: No. Rewind isn't a house I live in. There is no coming or going. I will always support and be a part of Rewind. Because my film probably won't sell. But Rewind has at least taught me the difference.

Santo: If you were to somehow get the attention of Dreamworks with Oranges 2, and they were to sign you to a picture deal that would bring you millions, what would you do to support amateur moviemaking?

Stoklasa: I would buy Rewindvideo.com and place a picture of a horse on the main page. I would do my best to stop amateur film making. Too many people are doing it now that suck and don't have good ideas.

Santo: But don't you need the bad to appreciate the good?

Stoklasa: No, Confucius. It’s like the Olympics. Olympians are amateur athletes that compete – they are not professionals. We as the public don't need to see the millions of people that tried out for the Olympics running, jumping, and swimming. We just want to see the best of the bunch compete. But the internet has given access to any schlup with a camera to post his filthy shitty movie for all to see, and be annoyed by. Seeing failed wannabe Olympians suck isn't the point of the Olympics, ya dig?

Santo: I do, but how can people get better if they don't mess up to begin with? Failing upwards is necessary to evolving into a better artist. REwind helps foster that, doesn't it?

Stoklasa: No.

Santo: Because it's too busy organizing the "crap" and patting people on the back?

Stoklasa: Yes. It’s not Rewind’s fault. People need to figure this shit out for themselves. People need to say "Gee, this sucks. This is inside jokes. Maybe we shouldn't release this.” Instead it's a race for numbers on how many movies you made. Random Foo has made 198 movies … a new one every second. That makes them the big tops at Rewind. It should be the opposite. Rewind should condemn such activity. Unless none of these people are actually serious about making it in the film industry. Then they can do what they want. 

Santo: I think you're confusing Foo work with my work. I was the one who made too many movies too quickly, and I probably created this image you find so annoying about them... 

Stoklasa: So be it. You see my point though.

Santo: Absolutely. Very clear.

Stoklasa: I think I'll just start making porno. 

Santo: You don't seem to have a problem at all naming names when it comes to backing your points. Do you feel that sort of candor is frowned-upon at REwind?

Stoklasa: Yes. I will be hated. I am hated.

Santo: Does that bother you?

Stoklasa: I shouldn't be hated. This is my opinion. We all can't be people that sit there and congratulate each other and don't have the nerve to speak up. The people in Random Foo are nice people to talk to and so on, but I don't care for their stuff too much, though I did like Inquisition. 

Santo: I still cannot believe you liked Inquisition. Jesus, Mike. You must truly hate the movies I make. Christ. Sometimes you frighten me, Commander. 

Stoklasa: What? 

Santo: It's times like this that I honestly feel like giving up.

Stoklasa: "Times like this?" When you talk to me?

Santo: No... when I think of all of the work I've done, much of it honest, real work that I tried hard to get right... then realize that something I think is shit outshines it in the eyes of people whose opinions I respect. I wonder what the fuck the point is. I wonder if I'm disillusioned. I don't think I have the drive or will to continue with this shit for much longer. I'm tired and sick. After Bent 3, I will consider folding if I see no momentum.

Stoklasa: No! Make a feature! With me and Rich in it! It’ll inject new life and energy into your stuff.

Santo: Gee, Mike. Thanks. That's a huge vote of confidence. J ... you suck on your own. You need me and the mediocre talents of my oddly likeable chubby best-friend to heighten your banal movies. Fuck. Blech. 

Stoklasa: I need the banal serious slick stylings of Senor Santo to make my movies appear less like childish filth and more like quality material! 

Santo: It gets old sometimes, doesn't it? Wanting to succeed at this? I'm only 28 and I feel like an old man.

Stoklasa: I'm 23 and I feel like an old man! Yes. It gets very old. Especially when you're broke.

Santo: I love the fact that a guy who I don't believe is all that great minus his editing skills is telling me what I need to do with my career. That's very interesting.

Stoklasa: Har...you wait and see sucker. I'm a wise man.

Santo: Heh. Indeed, Commander. There is some wiseness there.

Stoklasa: You're foundering in your own fabricated self worth.

Santo: Floundering, you mean? 

Stoklasa: Founder is when a ship sinks. Flounder is when a person is drowning.

Santo: Ahhh...

Stoklasa: Founder - to fill and sink, to fall down or go lame; collapse. Flounder - struggle awkward, proceed with difficulty.

Santo: Mike, you need to have a vision, an idea, a notion, a plan to move ahead in this art. I have it. I'm good at it. I know I am. I believe in my abilities. If that's foundering, then I don't mind because it keeps me working. I do mind, however, when fucking parasites are calling themselves the real deal and others back them. I get ill. You know... I think I was happier when I was away from REwind. I think I better disappear again. I shouldn't be around again. It's making me feel bad.

Stoklasa: No!

Santo: It makes me sick, Mike. It really does. No kidding.

Stoklasa: You can't hide in a cave.

Santo: I can just concentrate on making my movies and living my life away from them.

Stoklasa: Me and Rich dream of the day when we will defeat the evil forces around us.

Santo: Make a good movie and it might happen.

Stoklasa: Never give up, never surrender. Unless you make porno.

Santo: What the shit?

#mike stoklasa #gmp pictures #RLM #RedLetterMedia

[twdmusicboxmystery]

TWD 11x02: The Talking Dead

Okay, I DO have a details post, which will go up tomorrow. Because Emily was a guest on TTD this week, I thought it would be more important to post this first this week.

P.S. Apologies for the low quality of the pictures. I wasn’t able to get my usual screenshots this week, so I had to take pics of my TV. ;D

Right off the bat, let me say there weren’t any huge, smoking guns about Beth’s return in the episode. In other words, not much that the general audience (GA) would pick up on.

But we’re not the GA, are we? LOTS of suspicious dialogue and symbolism came out of this. Way more than we usually get from TTD. So, let’s dive right in.

The first thing was in the introduction. When Chris Hardwick was introducing his guests, as he always does, he used the phrase, “Beth is back!” That sort of thing always catches our attention and makes us side-eye.

@wdway​ observed that Emily’s outfit was a mixture of black and white/cream colors, Xs, and diamond patterns. In the past, I might not have been entirely swayed by that. (We’re assuming she chooses her own clothes, right?) But there have been too many times in the past when similar things have happened. Like for the S8 premiere when she wore that bright pink top that looked exactly like the pink bra ashtray in Still? Yeah, I’m no longer convinced Emily ISN’T dropping hints through her clothing.

It was also observed that her hair was very long. Whether extensions or not, it was very long (Beth length) and very blond. Might have been another hint.

One of the first questions Chris asked he was what she thought of Maggie’s SURVIVAL. That’s important both because it’s a question about someone who was left for dead surviving and also because Maggie crawling under the train was a direct parallel to Glenn, who was a direct parallel to Beth. So I was definitely side-eyeing that.

At one point, Chris referenced the Commonwealth interrogating people before letting them in, and he asked if Hershel had done that at the farm, would Rick’s group have made it past the screening process. Emily, overall, said yes. But Josh (McDermott who was on with her) said Shane wouldn’t have. They then started talking and making typical fandom jokes about Shane’s craziness.

The reason this made me smile is because Emily often deflects questions by saying she doesn’t remember, or doesn’t know, or that she no longer keeps up with the show. But here, she talked about specific characters and events in specific parts of a season 9 years ago as though she’s VERY familiar with it. It was like, “oh, but that character didn’t do that until minute 32 of episode 8 of season 2. But I don’t know. I don’t really keep up with things anymore.”

Okay, I’m totally exaggerating there. She wasn’t that specific. But that’s what it felt like. The little fibs she tells to keep people from suspecting Beth’s return are showing.

In talking about the significance of Maggie giving Negan a gun, Lauren said something kind of interesting and Beth-ish. She said, and I paraphrase, that Maggie is struggling to hold onto the person she was, rather than giving into who she might become. Just very reminiscent of Beth’s line to Daryl from still. “You gotta stay who you are, not who you were.”

Chris then asked what Beth would have thought of the current Maggie. And he asked specifically, “Would she even recognize her?” Now, of course he meant that in terms of recognizing who she’s become, because Maggie has changed so much as a person since Beth’s death.

But given the memory loss theories and all the surrounding evidence, we really think there’s a good chance Beth won’t recognize Maggie right away. So that was a huge hint to drop.

See what I mean? It’s not that they talked about Beth’s return in a huge, smoking gun sort of way. Rather, they just dropped a lot of hints through dialogue and the way they phrased questions.

The other thing I noticed is that Emily, in answer to the question, said that without Maggie, everyone seemed adrift and as if they didn’t know what to do because they no longer had a leader (until Maggie showed up again) to tell them what to do. Especially since it didn’t directly answer Chris’s question, I felt like maybe Emily was hinting at Beth’s leadership. New sheriff in town, and such.

Then Josh brought the shiv to everyone’s attention. I don’t think I mentioned this yesterday. If not, it will be in tomorrow’s Details post. But we saw Eugene wheedle a piece of wood into a sharp shive/spike and stick it into his sleeve. It was very reminiscent of Beth hiding the scissors in her cast in Coda. And Josh specifically called attention to that scene. He actually compared it to Terminus, rather than Coda, because we saw them trying to create makeshift weapons in the train car in 5x01. But still, it’s all season 5 and revolves around Beth’s arc.

Actually, as they went along through the episode, they did callbacks to various things in S5 a BUNCH of times. Kind of convenient given that Emily is sitting on the couch next to him, no? Both Lauren and Josh mentioned Terminus multiple times in various ways. Which works because Eugene’s group has been around a lot of train cars these past few episodes. But the thing is, they didn’t really equate Eugene’s storyline directly with Terminus. They were simply finding ways/reasons to randomly mention it.

They also brought up Noah’s death multiple times, comparing Gauge’s death to it, since in both cases, people watched them die horribly from behind a glass partition. Totally makes sense, but yet another tie to Beth by really talking about Noah a lot.

Lauren, talking about good vs evil and what people are capable of, a la Maggie’s disturbing cannibal story, said it wasn’t just about what outward choices people make. She pointed to her chest and said, “it’s what’s in here.” That just gave me huge Beth feels from Still, when she said, “…or it kills you. Here.” And pointed to her chest in the same way.

It just felt like they were invoking Beth a lot during this episode.

This next one was kind of the big kahuna. Chris, just out of left field, looked at Emily and asked, “Will Daryl prove Beth right? Will he be the last man standing?”

And that’s important because it has nothing to do with this discussion or this specific episode. Daryl wasn’t even in this episode.

And I have to acknowledge that there’s a good chance Emily was supposed to be on last week, and her appearance was pushed. We just don’t entirely know what happened there. So possibly, they would have asked this last week during a more Daryl-centric discussion. But still, Chris didn’t say that. It wasn’t like, “Oh you were supposed to be on last week and we wanted to ask this…” No. He just launched into it.

Furthermore, Emily knew exactly what he was talking about. Yes, it’s a well-known line of Beth dialogue from Still that she probably would have been familiar with either way, but even so. The “will Daryl prove her right” came directly from Daryl’s origins episode. So again, despite “not keeping up with the show,” she clearly watched the Origins episode and knew what Chris was talking about.

A couple of suspicious things in her answer:

She essential said yes, that she believes Daryl will be the last man standing. But she also said she didn’t think he would be the ONLY last man standing. Then Chris made a joke saying (and I paraphrase), “Yeah, it’s not like Beth could have said, ‘Daryl, you’re going to get a spinoff.’” And they all laughed and joked about it.

Let’s consider her statement first. She said he wouldn’t be the only one who was standing last, but how would she know that? If she doesn’t follow it anymore and is only associated with it as a previous, deceased character, how would she know that.

And yes, you could argue that this was conjecture on her part, but she said with such…I don’t know, authority? As though she knows something we don’t.

I think you can interpret this one of two ways. The first is what I’ve hinted at above: that she knows others besides Daryl will survive to the end of the show. And I totally agree with her on that. While most of us believe, I think, that Daryl will live until the end, I think plenty of others will, too. Rick and Michonne. Probably Carol and Zeke. Hopefully Maggie, though I’m a little more worried about her. You get the idea. But once again, why would Emily know anything about that?

The other way you could interpret it is that this is a statement about Daryl not being alone. He’ll be the last man standing, but he won’t be the ONLY one. He won’t be alone in that, because Beth will be by his side.

And here’s your friendly neighborhood reminder that in an interview with Larry King prior to S5 airing, Gimple confirmed that Daryl will find love in the apocalypse at some point.

Then there’s Chris’s statement about the spinoff. Now, that came from Chris rather than her, but it was still a really random reference. For me, what Chris does or doesn’t know is kind of irrelevant at this point. I personally believe he knows everything and is fully in on Beth’s storyline. But even if I’m wrong about that, these questions come from tptb. If Chris recognizes their significance, he’s being instructed to ask them and direct the conversation in a particular way.

And they way he threw in this mention made it seem like he was equating Beth with the spinoff in some way. Even the way he said, “there’s no way Beth could have known to say…” the thing about the spinoff struck me as interesting. Because back then, I truly don’t believe the writers knew anything about the spinoff. As I like to say, everything changed when Kirkman abruptly ended the comics and the writers decided to pick up all the characters and story lines and move them to a different vehicle: the spinoff. Probably for legal reasons. But they couldn’t have know that would happen back in S4.

There’s also the unspoken implication that, while Beth couldn’t have “known” about the spinoff, she didn’t know about other things. Like her return and Daryl’s fate.

Emily even told a story about how when they were getting ready to film the porch scene for Still, both she and Norman were hounding Angela Kang (not the show runner back then, but the writer of that episode) about the last man standing line. They both wondered if it was some kind of foreshadow. She implied they were both worried that Daryl would die soon because of it.

A few things about that. 1) I don’t think either of them actually believed Daryl was soon to die. I seriously doubt that. This is just one of those stories they tell to illustrate a point. Which leads me to my next point. 2) Clearly they are implying that this IS some sort of foreshadowing. They’re just not being specific about what it foreshadows. 3) Keep this in mind--that they were both asking about what a certain line of dialogue might foreshadow--the next the time actors try to claim they have no idea what anything means or what’s going to happen next. They’re VERY aware of how the writers put these symbols in and are constantly wanting to know where the show is going, just like we are. 

So yeah. I was definitely a fan of that whole discussion.

The Inside the Dead portion referenced some interesting Easter eggs, including Gorbelli foods (seen in Tara’s backstory in S4, which had lots of Beth parallels) and Duane Jones Whiskey (alcohol, Morgan, etc; we’ve compared that with Beth before). Kinda small potatoes, but still important.

I missed part of this next question, but they asked Emily something about whether she thought the Commonwealth is going to turn out to be a good thing and helpful to Alexandria. She said no. Again, maybe not a smoking gun but given that we think she’s most likely coming through Eugene’s story line, it might have been a hint.

They asked her about the Eugene/Stephanie story line, and she said she was excited for any love story in this world. *coughs Bethyl hint*. She also said she’s suspicious of ‘Stephanie’ (emphasis mine) *coughs plot hint*.

For the quiz, they talked about how many walkers Dog killed in the episode (1). Where Mercer said he went to school (Westpoint). What was interesting, is that they kinda gave something away there. After giving the answer, it said, “Mercer didn’t go to school there, but the actor that played him did.” So, they kind of hinted that Mercer SAID he went to Westpoint, but was lying. Just more evidence that Eugene’s group is being lied to and manipulated. Finally, they had a fill-in-the-blank of Eugene’s dialogue. It was when he asked how he was being processed. And one of the options was “as in bologna and other meant stuffs…” (again, I’m paraphrasing; forgive me if my wording is a little off). Anyway, it said at that moment, Eugene was thinking about Terminus. So, just another callback to that story line in S5.

Near the end, Chris asked Lauren and Emily what they miss most about working together. Lauren’s replay was, again, suspicious. She said Emily was “such a bright light,” which we equated to Norman’s famous description of Beth as Daryl’s light that “went out.” She also talked about how it was a testament to Emily’s goodness that she’s “being so missed.” Which made me think of, “you’re gonna miss me so bad when I’m gone, Daryl Dixon.”

Finally, even before the episode aired, @wdway had a theory about Emily being in the studio for the episode, rather than via satellite. Well, I guess it was more of a hope than an actual theory. Now that the episode has aired, it’s an actual theory. 

See, she had a hunch that maybe the Commonwealth story lines (what Josh should be filming right now) might be filmed in studio, rather than on location in Georgia. And there IS an AMC studio in L.A. What we saw--Josh in person on the show while Lauren was there via satellite because she’s in Georgia--does seem to back up this idea. Or at least the possibility. 

The fact that Emily was also there in person could be a coincidence. But it could also possibly mean that she’s filming in studio for the Commonwealth story line as well. @wdway​ thought of this because we think she’ll first come through Eugene’s arc, and none of the Commonwealth stuff is being filmed on the main Alexandria lots where people generally look for spoilers.

Not something that can be proven either way, of course. But a great theory that I’m 100% behind! 

Okay, that’s it for TTD (but that was a LOT) and it makes me super happy. Together with the screeners not being able to talk about episodes moving forward, I think we’ll see Beth very soon. Any references in TTD that I missed?

#beth greene #beth greene lives #beth is alive #beth is coming #td theory #td theories #team delusional #team defiance #beth is almost here #bethyl

[arumin-arureruto]

Honeytea Pt 3

Kyoya X Fem reader, Hikaru x Fem reader, Kyoya Angst, Hikaru slowburn

warnings: none

word count: 1.4k

songs to listen while reading: Your Power by Billie Eilish

(no pictures cuz there wasn't really any imagery this chapter <3)

“Hey my house is just a 5 minute drive from here, we could go there if you wanna talk more in private.”

The statement caught you more off guard than it should have, deep deep down it would be nice talking to Hikaru in a more private setting but you knew you couldn’t.

“Oh” was all that you could get out, you looked down to the floor quickly trying to think of something to say. “I’m sorry It’s just that... I’m a married woman and that would be improper for me to do-”

“Oh no no no I completely understand, I’m sorry that was inappropriate of me to offer.” you could see the heat rushing to his face as he turned a slight crimson shade. There was an awkward silence for a couple seconds, then you decided to speak up.

“There’s a park not too far from here, remember the one we used to go to all the time? it’s probably not as crowded by now since most people are at work so we could talk there” As you said that you could see Hikaru’s face lighten up. “Alright let’s go then”

You both walked to the park in a pleasant silence, a slight summer breeze leaving your legs feeling a little cold. You didn’t realize how much you missed your high school life at Ouran till you got a little taste of it as you hung out with Hikaru, all those memories flooding back hit you out of nowhere.

When you finally got to the park you decided to just sit under a tree since the sun was burning your skin and there were no free benches. You sat down and braced yourself for the inevitable questions that were to come.

“Are you ok? You look like your wind went somewhere else” You didn’t even realize you zoned out a bit, the feeling of nervousness was growing in your stomach and your mouth felt dry. “I’m fine” Hikaru looked at you, tilted his head and smiled “You’re not one to lie y/n, don’t start now”

Wow, he saw right through you. You mumbled out an apology and started picking at the grass thinking of something to say. Before you could say anything Hikaru spoke up. “I’m 99% sure I already know what yesterday was about but I can tell this is a sensitive topic for you so how about instead of just getting straight into it I ask you some questions to ease into it?” To be honest that would be easier, you agreed and prepared yourself for the first question.

“Ok so first things firsts, when you called me yesterday were you crying?”

ok that’s easy

“yeah I was”

“where you hurt mentally, physically or emotionally?”

“emotionally”

“Did you lose someone?” he asked that question with a gentleness in his voice that made you want to cry.

“No, I didn’t lose anyone”

“Ok, were you crying because you were mad or because you were sad?”

“honestly I think it was both” you laughed but more out of nervousness than amusement.

“Were you crying because you were angry at someone?”

“partially yeah”

“were you angry at Kyoya?”

bingo.

“yeah” you could hear your heart pounding.

“So my guess was correct” Hikaru sounded proud of himself for being able to read you so easily.

“What gave it away?” You were genuinely curious. To the world you and Kyoya were the perfect couple, never bickering in public, always all lovey dovey etc.

“How do I explain it, if the problem didn’t involve Kyoya you would’ve gone to him. But since you came to me I assumed he was the problem” he said as a matter of fact.

That was pretty spot on to be honest, Hikaru had always had a talent for reading people.

“Either way, do you wanna talk about what’s going on between you guys?”

You kinda did but you also kinda didn’t in a way. Complaining to another man about your husband wasn’t right even if it was to your best friend of years. But on the other hand talking to someone about everything that has been going on could feel liberating since you’ve been keeping all of it to yourself for a while. Even if you did open up to Hikaru, what exactly would you tell him? That your husband didn’t wanna spend time with you? you weren’t a whiny high schooler anymore-

“Helloooo? earth to y/n? you zoned out again”

Hikaru’s face leaned close to you trying to get your attention, wind blew and you could smell his cologne.

“right right i’m sorry I don’t know what’s going on with me today” this was getting embarrassing.

“This is a sensitive topic so it’s normal if you feel nervous, if you don’t wanna talk about it we don’t have to”

You pondered on the decision for a minute. Maybe Hikaru could tell you if you were being too sensitive or maybe he had some advice, talking to him wouldn’t hurt.

“No it’s fine I wanna talk about it, you have to promise to tell me if i’m being too dramatic ok? because honestly I don’t know if i’m being unreasonable or not”

Hikaru raised his right hand “I promise even though I don’t believe that’s the case”

Ok. You took a deep breath in.

“Truth is, for the past couple months I've been feeling lonely, Kyoya leaves and spends all day working and we don’t really spend any quality time together. I know that the honeymoon phase doesn’t last forever but I was hoping I would at least get to interact with my husband” The words came out of your mouth without you being able to control them. This was embarrassing, what if he thought you were being whiny? maybe you were just overreacting.

“I don’t think you’re whiny and I don’t think you’re overreacting ”

You didn’t realize you had been thinking out loud, was Hikaru just trying to not hurt your feelings?

“You don’t have to lie to me, I know Kyoya is a busy man and I should just learn to cope. For Christ’s sake I’m a 23 year old woman not some lovesick school girl, I should know how to control my emotions by now.” The uneasy feeling you had grew in your stomach and you could feel tears starting to form.

Honestly you looked pathetic right now, crying because your husband was busy.

“The feeling of wanting to feel loved doesn’t go away with age, just because you’re an adult now doesn’t mean you deserve to feel lonely.” Hikaru said quietly, his words made you lose your train of thought.

“Huh?”

“The feeling of wanting to feel loved doesn’t go away with age, just because you’re an adult now doesn’t mean you deserve to feel lonely.” This time he spoke more clearly and you could understand what he was saying, but honestly they didn’t help that much.

“Maybe you’re right, but even then what am I supposed to do? I crave Kyoya like he’s a drug and he only gives me enough affection to give me a little taste and that gets me even more hooked” you were starting to sound obsessessive but it’s how you truly felt.

Hikaru went quiet and he seemed like he was trying to piece together a puzzle, after a few seconds his expression turned sour. Oh no, he got fed up with your whining, you should leave.

“This was a bad idea I should leave-”

“Y/n have you ever thought that maybe Kyoya is doing this to have control over you?”

“Excuse me?” no, Kyoya would never do this.

“He knows that he’s your weakness and he uses that to his advantage, like you said he only gives you a little affection to keep you hooked”

“Why would he do that?” kyoya would have nothing to gain by having control over you, it’s not like you were rich or possessed many assets, you went to ouran on a scholarship with haruhi.

“It’s Kyoya we’re talking about, to him he HAS to have control over everything, it’s what makes him feel safe. “

Nothing made sense, true Kyoya was kind of a control freak but he would never want to control you, his own wife right?

“Even if that is true, which I don't think it is, what the hell am I supposed to do?” your voice was starting to get loud.

Hikaru fell backwards and went from sitting to lying on the grass, he took a deep breath and went quiet.

“Ignore him”

“Excuse me?” what the hell was Hikaru talking about

“Ignore Kyoya”

“And good would that do?”

“Honestly? I don’t know, but you could see his reaction and see if his behavior changes”

That was possibly the worst advice you had ever gotten, but you were intrigued.

“That’s a horrible idea. How should I do it?”

A/N

since I spent so many weeks without posting I promise i’ll try to get a the very least one chapter a week out

#kyoya senpai #ohshc #kyoya ootori #ouran high school host club headcannons #ouran high school host #ohshc hikaru #hikaru hitachiin #hikaru x reader #kyoya x reader #ohshc kyoya #ouran kyoya

[geocookie21]

A Punny Death

This is my first fic! Please be kind! It’s not going to be long at all.

Warning: 2 very bad puns. And I ask for your forgiveness.

—————————————————————————————————————

The Doctor, Agent O, Graham, Ryan, Yaz and Y/N had all managed to get into Barton’s plane relatively safely. And by safely I mean running directly behind the plane and then preceding to jump onto it! Because that is something you clearly should do, according to the Doctor.

“Thanks for helping me up back there” O said as he turned to Y/N

“No problem! Im surprised I got on, I’m used to the running now but jumping into planes?” You giggled as you shared a look with O and he couldn’t help but return the action with a laugh.

“I’ve never been good at sprinting” O said continuing your conversation, despite the lack of oxygen in your lungs, he was faking it, but still.

“Forget sprinting, I don’t think I’m quite used to running at all yet”

O, yet to be revealed as the Master, had gotten quite close to Y/N in the short time of your acquaintance. While Graham may have been keeping a running commentary, Y/N was making jokes. Bad jokes. The worst jokes imaginable. A few puns that flew right over O’s head, he caught on that it was, in fact, a joke of sort when Graham groaned.

One that didn’t fly over his head, and he was ashamed that he didn’t pick up on it before he replied, was the classic

“Hey O! Wanna know how NASA plans their parties?”

“How?”

“They plan-et” you said with a grin practically splitting your face. An expression he connoted with you making a joke that you knew was awful. So he groaned.

Apparently this was the correct response as you started laughing harder than you already were. O merely rolled his eyes, trying to stay in character, yet laughed a little by instinct. They were not bad jokes, in fact he found them rather amusing, despite the awful quality.

The godawful jokes continued to be heard at random throughout their little adventure. O nearly lost it when you said “Where’s the platypus when you need him” as you were sneaking around Barton’s jet hanger.

Having gotten a little bored during his time in MI6 and having already took a liking to TV as one of his previous regenerations he decided to look into more modern day tv shows, finding Phineas and Ferb.

He was about to burst out in laughter when Graham scolded you. You pouted completely unaware of the entire groups shoulders shaking in an obvious attempt to hold in laughter, including Grahams. 

Currently, having just jumped onto a plane, the jokes have stopped, for a few minutes at least.

“What are we actually going to do?” Yaz huffed out. Seriously, ran after a plane and jumped onto it. Can you blame her for being out of breath?

“Sit tight and see where he’s going” the Doctor replied, out of breath but clearly not suffering as much as the humans were cause she’s lucky causes she’s a time lord and has done more ridiculous stuff than this.

“Amen” You exclaimed as you sat down in one of the rows of chairs...cause you know, running after a plane AND JUMPING ON IT

“What were you doing in the kitchen Y/N? The party was outside” Ryan asked you.

“Officially? Looking for anything not obvious” you replied holding your lungs

“And unofficially?” Graham asked, already dreading the answer. Everyone looked at you, waiting for, what was going to be, a horrible joke.

“Trying to steal his cutlery” you replied knowing the next line, the groans incoming.

“Y/N! Why would you do that?! What if you were caught?!” There it was, the approaching line. You knew Yaz would go all police woman on you, thus providing you the perfect opportunity...

“It was a whisk I was willing to take” you deadpanned. Slowing turning into the famous grin.

The groans from all present were worth it. You laughed for a good 5 minutes despite the pain in your lungs.

Everyone including O just smiled at you. Each thinking you were cute. Then the Doctor remembered something that O said a few minutes before...

“Never been good at sprinting?” She asked O, confused.

“I was the last one in every race at school”

“No no no, I read your file. Your a champion sprinter” She huffed out, unaware that she broke his disguise.

The air in the room (plane?) shifted. You could feel something was wrong even from where you were sitting.

You couldn’t see it but O’s innocent (attractive) face dropped. He knew his facade was no longer going to work he stood thinking for a second or two until..

“Got me” whispered words, yet louder than echos.

“Well done”

The words scaring you into sitting upright, despite the pain in your lungs. This wasn’t the O you had come to know.

“What’s going on,Doc?” Graham’s voice was barely heard as you kept you senses focused on ‘O’. More confused than afraid, afraid all the same, you started to stand when he suddenly whirled around and out his hand out towards you. His hand raised to nearly eye hight and palm facing you, as if he were a magician.

“Sit down, Love.” The spoken command sounded soft to your ears and mirrored his smile. O’s smile.

You did as you were told so he turned back to the Doctor. A small laugh, as if he’d done nothing more than a harmless prank, to her as he turned his head over his shoulders to address the others.

“Well you’d best take a look out the window”

The fam did exactly that, except for you. As you stood to look a firm hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you towards a tall warm body. Looking up towards their face and seeing the O that you had known, not the one nearly laughing maniacally a second ago, confused you. This person isn’t O. Whether there had ever been a real O, or whether you had met the real one was yet to be determined. But you felt that this man was the one you had gotten close too. But who was he?

“How is your house out there?” Graham’s voice broke your thoughts. Only to start about her round.

“What?!” You got as close to the window as you could, with ‘O’ still holding onto you. And Graham was right, his house was out there.

He let you go so you could look.

“A little bit wicked witch of the west” you almost laughed. You really did. Then you remembered the situation. Though O did see you smile unknowingly, he knew you were amused and if this was a different situation you would have laughed. He frowned for a second wishing that you had laughed, but he knew you were confused. Remembering that the Doctor would be equally as confused was what got him smiling again.

“But you get the gist! Maybe, maybe not”

He tuned around leaning lazily against the wall. (Hand on hip as if he didn’t know what that would do to the audience watching.)

“Come in Doctor, catch up”

“You can do it, come on” acting as if he was a tutor, helping a child.

The Doctors mouth dropped in realisation.

“Ooooh”

O looked happy at that response, maybe even excited.

“That’s my name, and that is why I chose it”

“Oh so satisfying” He smiled.

“It was a bad pun even for me” you whispered. You were too confused to even notice you spoke that out loud or that you were even smirking at the godawful pun that he made, and let’s be honest, you WOULD have made that pun.

He looked at you a smiled softly, a low laugh that he only kept going for you, even with his disguise dropped. He quickly switched his attention to the Doctor.

“Doctor I did say, look for the spymaster”

his voice started dropping lower. In time not volume. Almost as if he was becoming someone else.

“Or should I say, spy...”

“Master”

The Doctor looked horrified and he took a deep, staggered, breath.

“Hi” he smiled. His whole demeanour had changed. Even his eyes, they burned with a hated and target into the Doctor.

“You can’t be”

“Oh I can be and very much am”

“So what’s going on then, if he’s not really O” Ryan spoke up for us confused humans in the back. Literally, back of the plane.

“I’m her best enemy” He responded as he got closer to the Doctor, laughing at her face when he stood next to her.

“Call me Master”

He addressed the fam as he started speaking, but in his last word, his name, he kept his eyes locked to yours.

Words of confusion arose from the fam, the Doctor still yet to recover from the shock.

“Me and her, we go way way way back”

“I met O” The Doctor trying to figure the situation asked the Master.

“I know”

“Years ago”

“I know!” He replied to her, laughing all the while.

“But there was an O at MI6! C was talking about him” Ryan being calm enough to think the situation through. The Doctor wasn’t doing to great and honestly? Neither were you.

“Yes, a man very close to my heart”

“Well in my pocket, actually. Wanna see him? It’s always good to have a backup of ones work”

He held up a matchstick box. His eyes locked to yours again, the demonstration purely for your benefit. Not to frighten you, he knew you’d be curious as to what was going on.

“Tissue compression, it’s a classic”

You finally saw what was in the matchstick box.... it was the original O.

Your mouth dropped as you whimpered slightly at the sight. The Masters eyes softened for a moment, wondering if perhaps he shouldn’t have shown you. He focused on the others for a moment to get you out of his head and thoughts before continuing.

“Ambushed him! On his way to work for his first day, shrunk him, took his identity and set myself up in MI6”

He turned back to the fam and kept you in his sights to see your reaction. You were still shocked and afraid, so he did the only thing he could. The thing you bonded over. He tried to make a joke.

“Surprisingly good staff canteen”

If he wasn’t watching you, he wouldn’t have noticed the quick smile or the breath you took. Another time, that would have you giggling and he knew. But you weren’t as scared as you were a second ago, so it did it’s job. He smiled softly at you closed you mouth and took a breath to calm yourself.

He was going to through the small box to the side to spite the Doctor, but he didn’t want to scare you so he put it back in his pocket and faced the Doctor once more.

“I have had a lot of fun” he started clapping out of enjoyment as the Doctor ran for the cockpit. The Master turned back to the fam and grimaced before a tiny giggle left his mouth. You were about to speak when suddenly

“Where’s Barton?!” Now that got your attention

The Master turned back around as if he’d been caught stealing a cookie. He jumped around acting like he didn’t know where to go until he sat down in a plane seat a few rows in front of you as the others ran past him.

He turned to you, you still looked terrified before, hearing that the plane didn’t have a pilot didn’t help

“So how’s the inflight entertainment?” He smiled softly at you, not the cruel smile he’d been giving out. An encouraging one, perhaps concerned and kind.

“I don’t like the comedy show” you whispered. You were scared. Confused. Still had burning lungs. Worried about the Doctor and others. And on top of that making a joke with a, now know, murderer was not at the top of your priorities.

“Check the seat” he called out after controlling his laughter at your reaction. The fam panicked as he whispered just loud enough for you to hear.

“it’s going to be ok” he knew in his mind it wasn’t. You were going to die. You are a human, he has no need for humans no matter how much he enjoyed your company. You knew it too.

He smirked evily as he glanced at the cockpit.

“Cockpit bomb”

He glanced at you at your gasps of horror. Smoking as he continued.

“Short fuse. I can relate to that”

A knowing smile until he heard the sound of the sonic.

“No! Did you think I wouldn’t have thought of that?’ It’s sonic proof Doctor! Come on!”

“Dead lock sealed and I made sure, no parachutes on board”

You knew you were going to die. You wanted to get to your friends, your fam. But the Master blocked your way.

“There must be a way!”

You doubted it. You were frightened and wanted your friends. You made eye contact with Yaz and Ryan, both held their arms out for you, knowing you needed them. You pushed past the Master into their arms and whimpered a little. You tried to keep it quiet so the doctor couldn’t hear you. You didn’t want her to stress out more than she already was.

Yaz said something to the Master and he replied, but you couldn’t make it out. You were too busy being scared and keeping it quiet. You caught the end of their conversation as the Master said

“...even these guys” you saw the creatures you were investigating. And if you weren’t scared enough?

“I can’t do it! Get away!” The Doctor shouted. She shut and barricaded the door in a feeble attempt to keep the explosion away from you all. The bomb went off and she fell over.

All you could hear was screaming. The fams, the Masters, your own. Your grip on the seat that you had grabbed weakened and you fell. You never hit the ground. In the chaos you could just about notice you had been caught. It was the purple cost that gave their identity away.

“Tell me Y/N, are you mad at me?”

You held onto him, him being the only steady thing you could grab on to at the moment.

“I’ve been mad at you since the Wizard of Oz reference”

He laughed as he held you in his arms. He steadied you in a seat and left towards the Doctor and stood over her.

“One last thing, you should know in the seconds before you die. Everything that you think you know, is a lie”

He turned to face you again.

“Y/N! Do me a favour!”

“What?!”

“Don’t die!”

“That’s kinda the idea here! your not exactly helping!”

“Good little human! I’ll see you soon!”

“If I don’t die in a damn plane crash you twit!”

he laughed before he sobered, turning back to the Doctor

“Got you, finally”

And with that he vanished.

Now we just have to survive the plane crash...

I’m sure the Doc.. Annnnd she just got taken.

Just great.

#doctor who #thirteenth doctor #13th doctor #dhawan!master #the master #Agent O #I wanna do a part two of this #sassy reader making jokes with the master as he’s trying to kill them is a mood #part 2 in the hanger The Madter getting b*** slapped #the sass that will ensue #the Doctor will probably have to hold them back

[thefanficmonster]

Never Alone

Connor Walsh & Michaela Pratt (How To Get Away With Murder) ft. The Keating 5

Warnings: Abuse, Abusive Relationship, Swearing, Trauma, Description of Injury

Genre: ANGST, Hurt/Comfort, Platonic Relationship

Summary: While working on a particularly tough case in the ungodly hours of the night, whether it’s due to the lack of sleep or the sudden need to confide in another human being, Michaela admits some truths to the person no one would think she’d ever do so to - her rival Connor Walsh.

Requested by Anon and requested as a birthday present by another Anon. Happy birthday darling Anon! Thank you so much for giving me the honor of writing you a birthday present though I hope the short notice doesn’t affect the fic’s quality. I accept the most brutal of feedback, but nevertheless I hope you enjoy it! Enjoy your special day! Lots of love, Vy ❤

“You know, just because you’re still awake and staring at a document doesn’t mean you have an upper hand here. Whether you’re actually reading that file is what will determine who gets the trophy, Miss Shooting Star.“ Connor Walsh waltzes into the living room turned office of the Keating home, looking and sounding a little too refreshed for someone who has had the same amount of sleep as everyone else of the K5 - minimal. Yet, unlike his teammates, he’s still perfectly functioning, talkative and looking forward to being productive without accidentally falling off a chair after being consumed by the slumber his body is probably dying for. It probably has something to do with that cup of coffee in his hand - his tenth one today, if Michaela’s counted correctly.

“Call me that again and I’ll shoot the damn trophy at your forehead.“ Michaela hisses back at him, tired, stinging and bloodshot eyes never leaving the piece of paper she’s been holding, reading and re-reading for the past twenty minutes, never really managing to grasp the words written on it.

“Good luck taking it from Asher. The Douche has fallen asleep with it in his arms.“ Connor sinks down in one of the armchairs, leisurely picking up one of the files laid out on the coffee table, looking at it with little interest.

This time Michaela’s gaze does indeed leave the paper so it can land on her rival, as she raises an eyebrow that somewhere between shocked and offended, “That asshole’s asleep?”

“He’s not the only one.“ It’s Connor’s turn to not spare her a look while answering, “Him and Wes are as good as dead on the kitchen island. Laurel and Frank are most likely awake, but also most likely not working on the case. Well, not this case, that’s for sure.“ He chuckles at his own joke, seeing as how his correspondent found no humor in it, “So, it’s down to you and me and Bonnie if she throws us a bone, which I doubt she will.“

Annalise was very clear with what she had said. Speaking the whole truth here, the five college students weren’t really paying attention until they heard that very strictly spoken phrase: “No one leaves here until someone finds something. Anything” aka the last phrase their professor had graced them with before walking out to go meet someone important for the night. She had every right to be strict and maybe even a bit cruel to them after they all had been exhibiting typical brat behavior throughout the day. To make matters worse and the job even tougher, Annalise had instructed Frank and Bonnie to go home so the kids would really be left to their own devices. Bonnie had had enough so no amount of begging her was gonna get her to stay - it’s also been proven that no amount of voicemails are gonna get her to come back either - but Frank, solely because of Laurel, stuck around and has so far not proved to be any kind of extra help - the polar opposite, in fact, he’s been distracting them all with jokes and snide comments at how incompetent they all are. Now if that wasn’t the most hypocritical thing.

“If the pressure wasn’t on already, I’d like to remind you we have...“ Connor turns his hand over, checking his wristwatch, “less than four hours until we have to show our not-showered, sleep deprived asses in court.“

Michaela groans, squeezing her eyes shut tightly. Not that she’d ever admit it, but she was actually glad to have an overnight task, something that wouldn’t allow her to go home, but this is beginning to be too much. What others would call ‘home’ Michaela refers to as or ‘hell’. It was place she called ‘home’ at one point too, but it wasn’t long before things started going south. And by ‘south’ I mean horribly wrong and toxic. The man she thought she’d one day call fiancée and then husband has now become a monster from her worst nightmares. Having grown up in an abusive household, Michaela had always dreamed of finding a place for herself, a place she’d feel safe in. With a person who’d love her unconditionally and provide her the security she lacked growing up. And that’s what she thought she saw in Miles. She wasn’t wrong for the first few months, the fucker was good at putting up a front, putting on a show for everyone to build a positive opinion of such a disgusting human being.

The mask started falling apart shortly after Michaela moved in with him. She didn’t accept his offer without any thought, quite the contrary actually - she pondered it for a week and a half, her heart taking the win in the end. Well, her heart may have won that time but it is now in pieces. Her eyes have never cried so many tears and her skin has never bled nor been bruised so badly before. She feels broken, alone, betrayed, hurt. She feels all she felt every time she got hit as a kid. She feels like the whole world has equipped knives and guns, each with her name on them, ready to put her through torture.

And she’s got no one to tell, because no one will know what to say back. For some reason, when people are speechless they tend to say the dumbest, most hurtful crap without realizing. Hearing that on numerous occasions before, she knows what effect it’ll have on her, so she strays away from speaking up about it. She’d rather be alone and battle her demons than present those demons to someone else who will introduce new ones into her head and life.

She prefers solitude and isolation over additional torment. It’s always been an easy pick for her.

“If you don’t wanna fight this battle on your own, go fetch me a cup of coffee.“ She instructs, half-expecting the turn-down she receives immediately afterwards.

“You really think I’m gonna help you when you are the closest thing to competition I have in this group of dimwits? Go get it yourself.“ 

Michaela rolls her eyes, wondering why she even asked such an abomination of a question in the first place. Finding her legs too dead to take her anywhere, she remains in her spot with a heavy sigh, returning to her attempt at reading the file she and the rest of the Keating 5 five have read through a dozen times today just to find nothing off about it.

“Hey, this one’s marked twenty-three, that one on the table’s twenty-five, where’s the twenty-fourth one?“ Connor suddenly perks up suddenly, cutting the short silence that had fallen upon them. With the least amount of energy she’s managed to save up, Michaela waves the file she’s holding, blinking away the blurriness of that clouds her eyes. “Give it to me, I need to make some comparisons.”

“Come get it yourself.“ She barks back with the same amount of spite he used barely a minute ago.

Unlike her though, Connor complies, finding that file necessary for some reason despite knowing it’s useless. It’s all pointless and they’re all gonna hear it from Annalise tomorrow morning regardless. But the most they can do is keep trying - trying to prove themselves worthy of that trophy.

Getting up with the most exaggerated distaste in his movements, Connor crosses the distance between the armchair he’s been sitting in and the couch Michaela has not moved from for hours, surrounded by piles of paperwork, folders and files. Much to his surprise, she doesn’t even put up a fight, clearly having been fed up with staring at the same words and not grasping anything for half an hour at this point. 

“Thank y-“ Connor is a syllable away from finishing his sarcastic statement of gratitude when his eyes land on something peculiar, he’d even call is quite worrisome - a large scar going from Michaela’s elbow to about midway down her forearm. It looks to be recent, given that there are still some dried specs of blood around it, “Holy shit....“ He mutters, carefully taking hold Michaela’s wrist as to gently turn her arm a bit more to the side in order to examine the cut, “What the hell happened to you?“

Not having realized what he was examining before, Michaela’s eyes widen when they follow his gaze and land on the very cut she spent an hour taking care of last night. That cut is the aftermath of a drunk boyfriend who wanted nothing more than a reason to start an argument with her when she got home. A reason to hurt her. Coming into work this morning, despite the high temperatures, she was stubbornly keeping a long sleeved jacket atop her shirt to keep the ugly remainder of yet another failure hidden. The relationship in and of itself is a toxic failure, but it’s built of other failures Mihaela blames herself for - she believes she fails every time he hurts her. She thinks she’s the one to blame for the failure because she couldn’t protect herself. So she feels ashamed, disgusted and is attacked by that sense of betrayal all over again.

Feeling these three emotions flooding in at the sound of Connor’s concern, she snatches her arm out of his grip, keeping the scar out of his viewpoint while her eyes scan the room, looking for the jacket she doesn’t remember discarding. “Piss off, Connor. It’s non of your business.”

If she had said something along the lines of it being an accidental injury, Connor might’ve even believed her and let the whole thing go. However, seeing hw distressed his question has made her become, he feels there’s a lot more to it than she’s letting on. So, fully aware it’s non of his business, he keeps prodding on for a reason even he himself doesn’t understand, “Maybe not, but that’s a concerning scar, you might wanna get it checked. In fact, it already looks like it’s infected with something.”

Michaela’s brows furrow, her distress growing into genuine fear as she removes the hand that’s partially covering the scar to check on it and try and see what Connor saw to lead him to make such an observation. Connor takes this opportunity to also get a better look at the cut and it doesn’t take him a while to realize what tool was used in causing it - a shard of glass. 

“Michaela, it may not be my business...“

She cuts him off with hostility, “It’s not”, but her words are choked up and wavering. Her voice is shaking like she’s seconds away from bursting into tears. And Lord knows crying in front of Connor Walsh is the last thing she wants to do.

“Right, but you can’t tell me that’s an accidental cut. That looks very intentional, very straight, and very much like someone inflicted it on you.“ Seeing her barriers slowly starting to sink despite her best attempts at keeping them up, he keeps his pursuit of his secret, for the first time genuinely curious to get to the bottom of what’s troubling Michaela and not a single ulterior motive in his mind. “You can’t tell me that I’m wrong. I’ve had my fair share of glass shard injuries in my life too.“ The girl’s gaze remains glued to the floor but Connor doesn’t miss the tear that escapes her left eye, sliding down her cheek. This only strengthens his will to getting the truth out of Michaela. “I know I’m not among your favorite people, but I’m not a piece of scum, damn it. You can tell me, Michaela. Believe it or not, you can tell me.“

Silence takes over, loud silence, the one on her end filled with the inaudible sound of her walls coming down quickly. She’s left bare and exposed. surrounded by their rubble and unable to look her rival in the eye. Though, is he much of a rival at this moment? He appears dangerously close to a friend. Hell, Michaela would even make a snide remark about it if her insides weren’t so broken - her heart, her soul, her mind, they’ve all been shattered, bruised and bloodied way worse than her skin.

“Turn around.“ She says out of the blue, the order sounding more like a plea especially when accompanied by another tear freeing itself from the confinement of her pride. When Connor doesn’t move, she finally looks up at him to meet his baffled gaze, “Turn around so I don’t have to see the pity in your eyes when I tell you I’m a pathetic victim of an abusive relationship. The punching bag of an asshole with a short fuse and a drinking problem. A failure to myself and my family. Is that what you wanted to hear? Do you think you have the upper hand now?“ Behind the tears that are spilling freely now is the mix of rage, devastation, dread and sorrow. It’s a dangerous combination that could cause her to pounce at him any second, push him away, take her anger out on him.

But that’s what he wants her to do.

He wants her to let it all out, free herself from all that’s been sitting on her chest. He wants to free her from whoever’s responsible for that scar on her arm and those thousands of little cuts on her soul, all still openly bleeding and unable to heal. He wants to save her. And it’s scaring him. He wants to write it off as basic human decency but deep down he know there’s something more. As much as the both of them would like to deny it, if one of them left the Keating 5 tomorrow, the other would miss them greatly. Threats, accusations, arguments and bickering aside, they are aware how great of a team they are. What a good pair of friends they could be if they just let their pride slip aside. But they don’t, and maybe they shouldn’t. Maybe that’s why they work so well.

However, even with that theory in mind, they’ve both let their pride go in this very moment. Walls and barriers have come down, lines have been crossed and they see each other differently now - More as fellow hurting humans rather than rivaling lawyers-to-be. Closer than ever, that’s for sure.

“Listen, Michaela...“

She once again cuts him off, “I don’t want your pity, sympathy or your advice. I don’t need you telling me to leave him! You think I haven’t thought of that?! You know nothing about it, you don’t get to judge me on my actions and choices!” She’s sobbing at this point with no hopes or ways of stopping the strangled noises from leaving her throat or the tears from escaping her red eyes.

Connor quickly crouches down in front of the couch so he’s at eye-level with  her, his hands taking gentle but firm hold of her shoulders, “Michaela, no! That’s not what I wanna say! Listen to me, damn it.“ To his surprise, this actually gets her to calm down and stop thrashing to get his hands off. Slightly relieved, he pursues what he started, “I know, I know exactly how it is. Every time he does something nice it outweighs the bad. It’s those good moments that make you stay, I know. But those moments are the rare rainbow after a ton of rain. They are not worth this pain and suffering you’re enduring. He’s not worth it. You deserve so much more, so much better and you are aware of that!“

“But no one else is!“ She snaps, her hands coming up to hide her face, “No one else sees my worth beyond the job I do or the person that’s willing to put a ring on my finger. No one sees me for me, Connor! My value is determined by what kind of men find me decent enough for their beds or family contracts! What kind of response do you think I’ll have if I leave yet another relationship?“

Her words break his heart but he doesn’t let it show in his eyes, he’d rather close them than let her see that pity she fears and despises. He doesn’t pity her, far from it, but a simple misunderstanding on her end could break this already fragile bond they’ve built so he keeps his feelings at bay.

“Fuck them! Michaela, you are an adult woman, they can’t control your life anymore! No one can! That’s why you need to cut ties with those whose opinions you fear most. I don’t know what kind of stick they have up their asses, but without them you won’t be alone. You’ll be free!“

“And you’ll still have us.“ The sudden and new female voice comes from behind them, right by the doorway.

Both of them turn to look in that direction to find the four missing members of this late case-digging session: the sleepy Asher and Wes with Frank and Laurel beside them.

“I have no idea what you guys are talking about, but Michaela, you will not be alone, no matter what the context is. We might not be the best friends one can ever have, but we sure as hell aren’t monsters.“ Laurel continues, being the only one to actually take a step in the room while the three men stay put, uncertain of how to approach the situation. “I think we all care about each other to some degree. So, I want you to know, we care about you and we’re here for you. No matter how many times you leave us in the dust with your eyes on the prize.“

That remark manages to get a smile out Michaela even with the tears that are still not done rolling down her cheeks. Asher is also quick to pipe in, “I second that! Anything you need, we’ll be here. Need us to bust someone’s skulls - we’re your people.”

Scoffing, Connor shoots Michaela a look, “Now that’s an idea. Give us the address of that shithead and consider it done.”

She rolls her eyes, “Let me get my stuff out of there first. I don’t want you getting blood on any of it.”

Connor stands up from his crouched position and turns to the rest of the team with a determined look and a hint of a smile on his face, “You heard her folks! The lady wants to collect her stuff, and I’ll be damned if I let her do it alone.” He turns back to his temporarily-not-rival, “Come on, you can crash at my place until this friendly phase of ours fades. Then I’m dumping you at Laurel’s.”

She narrows his eyes at him, “Hilarious.” Suddenly her eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up, “Wait, what about the case?”

“Laurel and I found something, already turned it in. We were coming here to send you guys home.“ Frank replies in his usual reassuring manner.

“Ooooh, so you were working on the case after all!“ Asher comments, wiggling his eyebrows at them.

“Yeah, we were. Unlike some who were asleep in the kitchen cuddling a trophy.“ Laurel retorts, sending him the most sarcastic of smiles. 

This whole interaction between her...well, her friends has lifted Michela’s spirits enough to get her up on her feet, “In that case, better get prepared to help me pack three large suitcases.”

And with that the Keating 5 (plus Frank) disembark, heading to their new mission. Walking out of the Keating household with four people, all unconditionally supporting her without even knowing what’s going on and one person with his arm tightly wrapped around her in a protective manner, Michaela has never felt more safe and secure. She might not love these people and they might not love her either, but they are all fond of each other. And if their fondness has reached the degree where they’re willing to accompany her and aid her escape from the hell she’s been trapped in this past month and a half, she’s willing to call them friends.

Some closer than others, but she cannot admit that knowing that in a week’s time her and Connor will probably be at each other’s throats again. And she’s fine with that. Rivalry’s a type of friendship too, ain’t it?

#how to get away with murder #htgawm #michaela pratt #connor walsh #asher millstone #laurel castillo #wes gibbins #annalise keating #bonnie winterbottom #frank delfino #flaurel #connor & michaela #sam keating #rebecca sutter #htgawm season 1 #htgawam #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #fandom #palatonic #platonic relationship #enemies to allies #rivals to friends #htgawm s1

[jackywroteabook]

6 Ways to Find Inspiration for Your Story

Inspiration… the fleeting rush of ideas that seem to only come late at night or right in the middle of important tasks. Some days, it seems that inspiration has packed up and left forever – but don’t fret! No matter how hopeless it may seem, there are always ways to get that inspiration flowing again! Here are some of my favorite ways to draw in ideas when writer’s block eats away at you:

1. Personal Experience

A little over a year ago, I joined our local community theatre. My life had never been boring by any means, but since joining the theatre, I’ve had so many incredible (and hilarious) experiences… not to mention meeting quite a few interesting characters. It was like no other place I’ve been. In a time when I was desperate for ideas, a wellspring of inspiration came rushing out of this place. Now, if I were to tell you half of the antics that have gone on behind the scenes of our shows, you would never believe me. My life has gone from fairly normal to feeling like I live in a sitcom 24/7. I’ve found that backstage fun is fuel for comedy – which is my strongpoint in writing.

Though the book I’m working on has nothing to do with theatre, the experiences I’ve found there have inspired so many scenes, characters, and plot twists. You never know when one experience could turn into your favorite idea!

2. People You Know

Don’t be afraid to write about someone close to you. Trust me, I know the awkward feeling of writing about a family member or friend, wondering what they’ll think if they find out you’ve put them into a story as a villain when they’re a hero in real life. Don’t let it stop you! If you ask any writer, they’ll tell you they do the same thing. They play matchmaker with their characters by making their best friend the love interest to the story’s heroine. Most non-writers will understand – and they’re often flattered to think you’d include them! (If you’re too worried, just ask the person. The worst they can say is no – then, you change their character just enough for them to not be suspicious and have fun with your new idea!)

One of my close friends has become one of these fun characters – we’ll call him “Liam,” which is the name for the character he’s inspired. I met Liam when I was the newest person to join a group and he was the first friend I made there. In all honesty, he’s unlike any other friend I’ve had.

Not only does he have a huge heart, but he has never lost his childlike quality. Despite seeing horrible things in his life that scar even the bravest of souls, that childlike innocence has never left him. However, he has triggers that terrify him – such as loud noises. We went out for coffee one afternoon and a wet floor sign collapsed with a loud “BANG!” that made him come out of his seat. It took four of us to calm him back down. You could see the terror in his eyes taking him back to that place of horror – but, once he was able to pull himself back, his playful energy returned. Many people don’t take him seriously because of his childlike qualities – like becoming fascinated with things most people take for granted – but he is one of the most intelligent people you’ll meet… and his fierce loyalty is a rare, wonderful trait.

Recently, I’ve had a “HELP WANTED” sign hanging from the door in my brain that leads to my writing. The main character in my novel is a spunky, outgoing, and odd girl who has been in desperate need of a best friend to help her through the events in her book – and cause a bit of fun trouble along the way. “Liam” was the perfect fit!

(I have yet to tell him about this character, because I’m planning to surprise him with it once I’ve written more of the manuscript. He’s been a huge encourager of my writing and I’m very excited to stick him in.)

3. The Internet!

When in doubt, look it up online! The internet isn’t always your enemy (though it’s quite a lovely procrastination tool). Whether you’re in need of a story idea, or just a prompt to get the words flowing, the internet can be your best friend! Many websites have millions of writing prompts right at your fingertips!

4. Don’t Forget Your Notebook!

Wherever you go, never forget to have some way of capturing an idea the minute it comes – whether you have a physical notebook or a writing app on your phone. You don’t want to come across your best inspiration yet and be caught without a way to write it down! (Though, in the unfortunate case that you don’t have anything to write with, borrow a pen from someone and find the nearest thing to write on. I’ve been known to use tissues, toilet paper, my arm, and just about anything else within reach!)

5. Go out in the world and look for things.

Looking for inspiration isn’t always as hard as it seems. As writers, we’re all guilty of staring at our screens, waiting for the perfect idea to pop into our heads. I do it more often than I’d care to admit. Inspiration doesn’t work that way.

I am the type of person who sits in a meeting and observes my colleagues – every mannerism; facial expression; even just the way they speak when proposing something versus the way they speak in normal conversation. I find the distinct nature of each person fascinating. It helps tremendously with character building!

Have writer’s block? Go out for coffee with a group of the quirkiest people you know and spend four hours letting their conversations inspire you instead of four hours smashing your head against your desk. If you don’t have a quirky group of friends, go out alone or with the person you’re closest to and eavesdrop on the most interesting group of people you can find. Listen to that elderly man in the back of the coffee shop, having a sultry and questionable conversation with his girlfriend over Skype. Watch how that quiet, teenage barista longs to talk to his female co-worker, but can’t bring himself to it. Pay attention to the Dad humming his favorite Disney songs, while his twelve-year-old daughter sits beside him, sipping hot chocolate and reading her favorite horror novel. You never know who or what could inspire your bestseller. Getting out there and experiencing all of the ideas this world has to offer is much more fun than sitting alone in frustration!

6. My final, most crucial piece of advice: Never give up!

It may seem like you’ll never find the right ideas for your novel… but don’t give up hope. Be persistent, keep searching, and I promise you will find your inspiration!

#writing inspiration #writing tips #writing advice #Writers of the Future #writers helping writers #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writeblogging #writer's blog #writer's block

[suhfleur]

dear, my dear • jaebeom (2/4)

• pairing: soulmate!jaebeom x reader

• genre: romance, angst, smut

• warnings: cursing, sexual content

• word count: 2.2k

summary: in a world where a touch can lock the doors of the heart, his voice opened the doors to your soul as he filled it with joy.

a/n: i like doing cliches. enjoy. forgive any typos, i didn’t review this.

•••

“That’s amazing!”, would sound fake.

“Wow, how it happened?”, wasn't something you wanted to know. And, “I'm happy for you” would be the last thing you felt like saying.

But you should still be a good friend.

He never even broached the subject of soulmates with you, so knowing how he felt at the moment was a cloudy situation.

You weren’t sure how to act.

Sunny decided to sleep with you, just in case, because she was too good of a friend to let your shocked ass alone. And you were grateful, because being alone all night wouldn’t do anything for you, except make you cry.

But right now, you are lying on the floor of the rooftop of your building, staring at the stars as if maybe they could tell you what to do. Pretending that nothing happened wouldn’t help much.

[10:16 pm] loftv: And how are you feeling about this?

You thought maybe he might be busy in the studio and wouldn't answer fast, but the answer soon came.

[10:21 pm] def: fine. I feel the same as always.

[10:22 pm] loftv: Is that all? Didn't you feel anything extraordinary?

[10:22 pm] def: it doesn't matter to me.

[10:23 pm] loftv: And why not?

def is typing… appeared on your screen for at least 7 minutes, and yet, no message came for almost others 5 minutes.

[10:35 pm] def: you took too long to answer. what happened?

Okay. He definitely doesn’t want to talk about it. Time to move on.

[10:36 pm] def: I missed you.

You sighed heavily, feeling your stomach twist and turn. No matter if you had found your soulmate, def was still the one you loved. And nothing would change that, not even a predestined love.

[10:37 pm] loftv: I’m sorry. Got carried away with some things. Missed you too.

[10:38 pm] loftv: A lot.

[10:38 pm] loftv: Tell me how you feeling. What you doing right now?

Putting your phone down, you heard Sunny clear her throat, looking at you suggestively.

“What?” You asked nonchalantly.

“You found your soulmate." She said as she propped her elbows on the floor and rested her chin on her left hand. “And I’m not even questioning it, I know you found him… or it is her?” She asked smiling.

“I don’t know,” You answered, thinking about the whole situation at the subway and how it messed the hell out of you. Sunny looked at you deadass like that meant ‘what do you mean, girl?’. “It happened at the subway station. People kept pushing me until somebody touched me and everything happened. I lost him… or her. I don’t have any idea. I just felt like crying… but not because I was scared. But… I felt happiness. It was so weird…”

“Do you still think the soulmate thing is something theatrical?” Sunny asked you while running her fingers through your hair. She seemed cynical.

“No. Not even a bit,” you turned on the floor until you were face to face with her. “and that’s why I’m mad. And scared. And everything.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to have that person. Even if my body it’s telling me otherwise, this is not what I want.”

“This is not who you want, right?” Sunny’s voice sounded kinder and her eyes tried to calm you down. Somehow.

“I love somebody else, Sunny.” Your eyes filled with water, so you returned back to the starting position, with your back against the floor as you looked up, expecting something to come from the sky and change all that, again.

“You know… When I met Jaehyun, everything seemed so natural that it was weird. Like, I had never seen him before and it didn’t feel strange at all. I hoped that even though he was the person I was going to spend the rest of my days with, we would have some kind of... uncomfortable moment, I guess? After all, we didn't know each other. But when I bumped into him at the Museum and we started talking, that thing... started to make sense.” She said excitedly while sitting and crossing her legs.

“What thing?” You asked, curious, looking at her again.

“Do you remember that I would always tell you that every time I picked up that specific book from the library, I felt something different? I never knew how to explain that, but I would always feel that warm feeling, like my soul was being hugged, and you called me high, which was rude of you, by the way, little bitch. But, moving on, when Jaehyun and I started meeting each other, he told me he used to go to that library and always take that same book to read!”

“Okay now, this is a hell of a coincidence.” You answering, not knowing exactly where Sunny was trying to go with that information.

“The thing is: it wasn’t a coincidence, Y/N. Whenever I walked in front of that law firm, I felt the same way I felt when I touched that book. That was because Jaehyun worked there. That Japanese food restaurant that you and I like to go whenever is possible, I used to feel the same way too, because Jaehyun used to go there a few times when you and I were, he would sit with his friends a few tables away from us, every Friday.”

You still didn’t get it.

“What you trying to say to me, Sunny?”

“This whole soulmate thing is not like life is throwing somebody at your door and saying ‘here it is’. It is not predestined as a computer programming, it is built until it is unified. It’s storytelling, your storytelling, but it has to be built. Life introduces you to your soulmate, in some weird ways, yes, but it does. That’s why it’s called soulmate.” Her eyes expressed more than what you could catch. “Just don’t overthink right now. At some point, you will know what I mean.”

And you really wish you could understand that at the moment, fully. But maybe it was not for you right now.

“Hungry?” You nodded. “Good, I will order pizza now. Half spicy!” Sunny got up quickly, laughing. “And you are going to eat with me!”

“You know I don’t eat spicy things!” You shouted as she ran into your apartment, moving backward just a few steps to look at you.

“Life is too short to not eat spicy things, especially when you never ate it before. And, if I were you I'd look at my phone because you're probably leaving a certain someone talking to himself.” She said laughing as she disappeared into your living room.

Oh shit, def…

Quickly picking up your phone from the floor, you see that he had only sent you two messages, 10 minutes ago.

[10:41 pm] def: can I call you? I really missed you.

[10:45 pm] def: please?

You felt your hands shake a little at the question. The two of you had never been messaging, his idea of not knowing much about you never included not talking on the phone, but he never even asked about it.

And now, receiving his call was an overwhelming idea.

[10:55 pm] loftv: I’m sorry, I was talking to my friend.

[10:55 pm] loftv: But yes, call me.

And as soon as you sent the message you started preparing, trying not to create what you didn't want: expectations. You had no more than 1 minute to think about anything because soon your phone was vibrating and his name was shining brightly on your screen.

You answered quickly.

“Hey.”

His low and husky voice vibrated in your ears, in almost a whisper, as if he was testing territory. And you felt like throwing up, your stomach kept spinning, feeling goosebumps on the back of your neck. He could always make you fall apart just like that.

“Hey, you… You never answered me what you were doing.” You said shyly, biting your lower lip, hoping that you didn’t sound stupid.

“That’s why I’m calling you, miss. To show you what I’m doing…” His voice sounded a little more excited.

“Well… You are not going to really show me anything, you know how calls work right? I just can hear you.” You mocked.

“Oh, you are the smartest person in the world, uh?” He answered wryly. “You understand what I’m saying, you wanna know what I’m doing or not?”

“Ok, big baby. I’m all ears.” You heard a small laugh from him, making you smile more. He was walking somewhere because you could hear him opening and closing a door. “Where are you?”

“Studio.” His voice was distant as if the cell phone had been placed somewhere far away.

“I’m waiting…” You hummed.

“Wait a minute, Einstein. I’m almost there.” Then you heard the keyboard noise and a few clicks. “There we go, I hope you like it…”

A gentle guitar melody began to play and you lay back on the floor again, enjoying his voice blending perfectly with the sound of the strings and the sudden beat coming in.

“You’re always in my thoughts,

Where you are right now,

If only I could know

Even if it takes a few years

I want to find you…

Come back to me.”

The calm words being chanted as supplications filled your mind, while the starry sky presented you with this perfect combination.

You didn't even notice when it was over. Only when you heard his voice again.

“You liked it?” He sounded hesitant.

“You still ask me that? It's beautiful. Perfect. Tell me this is the final version, please, I'll kill you if you make any changes." You heard his laugh and some noises again, as if he were leaving that place again, locking a door.

"I would only change something if you told me this song was horrible, after all, you are my quality manager, right?"

The noise of movement and cars grew louder.

"Are you leaving the studio?"

“Yes. I’m going home now because I think somebody once told me that if I was past 11 pm in the studio, she would strangle me or something like that…”

“That must be a nice person, then.” You answered, laughing at him. At least your threats were working.

“Yeah. She is very nice… But tell me now, what are you doing, my Lily?”

So, you guys talked about absolutely everything, from how sushi is not all that good to the meaning of constellations in each mythology, which honestly left you wanting to jump on him because that man could talk about everything, and there wasn’t, at the moment, something sexier than the way he explained things. The conversation was so long and relaxed that you walked through the whole house while talking to him, and now you were on the living room floor, next to a Sunny who just passed out watching Princess Mononoke from Studio Ghibli. After eating a disguting spicy pizza that almost made you throw up while talking to def, and he mocked you for 15 minutes.

Just as your friendship started naturally, the same thing happened with this first phone conversation and you thought "why the hell am I so afraid?", you had never felt so stupid. It was time to be brave. After all, you had nothing to lose. He was not predestined for you.

"Def?" You called, hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"I think... I mean... Why is it so hard to form a phrase? God... Ok. I think we should see each other, if it's ok with you."

You waited anxiously for the answer, and received a laugh.

"If it's ok for me? C’mon now, I'm waiting to see you for months. Of course it's ok for me. When do you want to see me?"

Right now, please.

"Is it okay if I want to see you tomorrow? After work...”

“Are you sure? I mean, you know I work at home, so no problem but it won't be tiring for you?” The concern in his voice warmed your heart a bit. Always so understanding.

“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t worry. I just really want to see you.” You admitted holding your breathe.

“I really want to see you, Lily. I really do.”

“Good, I can’t wait to hear why you call me Lily and it better be a good reason or I swear to God, we gonna fight!” His laughter once again filled your ears and heart. “Even though I don't want to go now, it's already 2 am and in 5 hours I have to go to the university and then work. Unfortunately, capitalism forces me to go. See you tomorrow?” You asked with dreamy voice, and big smile.

“Of course you will... Before you go, let me tell you one important thing.”

“What is it?” You asked curiously, looking lazily at the screen.

“My name is Jaebeom. Lim Jaebeom. Sleep well, my Lily.”

#jaebeom #jaeobeom imagines #jaebeom scenarios #lim jaebeom #got7 imagines #got7 scenarios #jaebeom smut #dearmydearseries

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia, I hope you’re well. Please feel free to ignore this if it’s too personal... but how do you deal with death as a concept when you have the chronic illnesses that you do? Are you afraid to die, and if you are, how do you keep from constantly thinking about how you could die early (so to speak) if your health takes a turn? I’ve had a lot of health scares recently and it’s getting harder and harder to just live without feeling constantly afraid. Thank you for everything you do.

Hi anon!

Firstly, I am very sorry to hear about your health scares. They suuuuuck. They really suck. I’m replying partly out of solidarity, but I don’t know if I have anything that will really work for you, because sometimes I really struggle to find things that work for me, but I’m happy to share what I’ve picked up along the way. <3 And I hope in the meantime that things pick up for you.

The timing of this is pretty spot on, in that I’m going through pretty serious scanxiety at the moment (what we call ‘anxiety around getting scans for cancer’ in my cancer support group that I’m a member of). I had a full body PET scan two weeks ago (no results yet), and I have a head/neck MRI on Friday, for which I can hopefully get the results Mon/Tuesday. But I don’t have my follow up with my Endocrinologist until late July, so I won’t know for about 6 weeks if I have any new tumours in my abdomen.

I definitely don’t want to die from this disease, and it will probably be the thing that kills me. Not any time soon, that’s less likely, but it’s just...likely overall. A lot of the statistics are stacked against me, I have three primary tumours in my head/neck, and there’s no indication that my body is going to stop growing them, and there’s no cure and likely to be no cure in my lifetime.

So yeah, I get anxious. I am afraid to die (I mean in general, unless I’m suicidal, but also specifically the way this disease is likely to kill me: progressively taking my hearing, my ability to swallow and talk, my ability to move my arms and my head and my neck, my sense of balance and ability to walk upright without collapsing, and more - which doesn’t even count metastatic disease - is a horrible way to die). And I live with the knowledge that like, it literally takes one scan result to change my entire life all over again (hence, scanxiety).

BUT, living in constant fear is just...not helpful. It’s understandable, it is an understandable emotional response, but it’s not a helpful response. Because what matters most in these scenarios is quality of life; and you get quality of life (in chronic illness and acute disease) by managing emotional outcomes as vigilantly and with as much self-compassion (and patience) as possible. So these are the things that work for me, if they don’t work for you, that’s fine, some might even feel completely wrong for you, that’s also fine and normal. The things we tell ourselves to cope in this are deeply personal. I hate the phrase ‘fuck cancer’ for example, other people who have cancer use it as a battle cry and feel strong because of it.

***

* ‘Can I literally do anything more than I’m doing to change the outcomes of my illness without hurting myself? No? Then admit you have no control over this and let it go.’ This is something I tell myself when I start panicking. ‘But what if I get this result what if this happens what if this tumour starts growing again what if.’ I just look at myself sternly and say: ‘HOW is this helpful?’ It’s NOT. Knowing the answers to any of those what ifs changes nothing in the moment except my anxiety, distress and fear levels. And then I say ‘so WHAT would be helpful? What do you have control over?’ And then I might wait and think... ‘well...I really like that Youtube channel One Meal A Day I might watch one of those videos’ or ‘well...I might journal about my feelings and give them some space (see further down) and then try and let them go because just cycling around them isn’t productive.’ Sometimes we hang onto anxiety because our brain convinces us it will somehow be helpful. With this stuff it rarely is.

* WORRY TIME. Yay worry time! Set aside 5-20 minutes a day (or every three days, or once a week, but you might need to start with once a day when things are really bad) to write down ALL of your worries about your illnesses. All the irrational things, the logical things, ALL of it, no matter how embarrassing. And omg, chase those worries down. Really sit and be with your worry. Give it space. Let it speak! But do it with the intention that once those 5-20 minutes are over, that’s it. You’re done. If your worries start up again, say gently to yourself: ‘You told me all of this during Worry Time, but if this is new, please save it for tomorrow, I will give you space to share with me then!’ Treat your worry like a little animal that doesn’t know any better, and has to be taught some boundaries. Worry Time becomes the boundary. That doesn’t mean you won’t feel anxious the rest of the time, just if you do, it’s easier to step back mindfully and go ‘huh, I’m anxious right now, that’s really interesting, but I’m going to do something about that tomorrow, and so for now I’m just going to acknowledge it but I’m going to try not to let it ruin my day.’

* ‘Everything right now, this moment, this second is exactly the way it should be.’ This is Taoism, and some people hate it. I use this most often when I’m in excruciating pain, or terrified, or literally in a panic attack. I don’t know why it helps so much, but it does. And I think it’s because it works like this: ‘Everything right now, this moment, this second is exactly the way it should be. Terrible things are happening all over the world. Other people are feeling pain like I am. Animals and plants go on living and dying. Right now everything in this moment is perfect messy imperfection and I am a part of that, a small cog in a huge ecosystem. I am a part of something, I belong in this, and I hate it - I really hate it - but even that is part of that messy imperfection. It just is. And therefore, I can release any attachment or urgency to change the things that I cannot change.’ And then...I will still be in pain, or having a panic attack, or terrified, but it will feel integrated and connected to me. It will feel like it’s a part of something. Still, ultimately, sometimes useless but...even useless excesses of terror are a part of the messy imperfection of life.

This leads onto the second:

* ‘In this moment, I am okay.’ Not like, literally 100% healthy. I’ll never be that. But I’m okay. I’m okay as a person and a human being who deserves love and comfort, and I’m okay to just grab another minute to feel okay. You can pair this with mindfulness meditation, and Smiling Mind has a great free app, and most of the meditations are between 5-8 minutes long. Sometimes ‘I’m okay’ doesn’t mean ‘I feel okay’ - and that’s okay too! I’m not trying to erase my emotions, I’m not trying to make myself never feel afraid of dying, that is an appropriate response to something that literally threatens my life but isn’t doing it urgently right this second. And because it’s not doing it right this second, well, right this second, I’m okay.

* Goals that have nothing to do with your health. For me, probably pretty obviously, it’s my writing and my art and similar. I have responsibilities towards my loved ones and my animal companions. Sometimes just...putting my head down and getting stuff done helps take my mind off things, and that also makes me feel productive and like I’m more than my illnesses. Socialising is a part of this. You are so much more than your illnesses, but you have to live that way too, that’s your responsibility to yourself, to remember that you are more, and then to embrace that in your actions (I mean, keeping in mind spoons/energy levels), even when you’re not always feeling it.

* Look at the things you can control and shore them up where you can. Like, consider writing a will. One of the things I’ve had to do is consider what I’ll do if I get sick so quickly I can never finish Fae Tales or never write anything again. These practical steps can be distressing, but sometimes they can answer background anxieties you didn’t know you had, and put them to bed. ‘I don’t need to worry about this, I’ve already done this part.’ Sometimes it’s just knowing that every time you see a specialist, you’re going to write down your questions, so you no longer need to worry about forgetting them. Things like that seem little, but they add up as background anxieties we do have control over.

* If you can afford it; Therapy. Depending on your illness/es, there may be support groups. Some are dodgy as shit (Fibromyalgia groups have categorically been the worst spaces I’ve ever encountered for genuine support), but generally speaking for serious illnesses, there are support groups. They can be an incredible resource. I help moderate the Australian/New Zealand Para/Pheo Support Group (there’s only one, lol), and like sometimes it’s depressing (people I care about do, on occasion, die), but knowing I’m not alone, knowing I can get advice about what to ask my surgeons or my Endocrinologists or Oncologists, especially for a rare disease? Fuck that’s so invaluable. And being able to help other people advocate for themselves has been really empowering for me.

* Don’t expect to get rid of your fear or anxiety entirely. If you’re alive and you’re human and you like life, you just can’t do that. So remember that when you’re feeling those things, you’re being a normal human being, and you are not alone (even when you feel like the loneliest person in the world, even that’s a part of it). It won’t fix those things, sometimes you can’t. Some days I just give as like, shit days, it happens. June I’ve given up as kind of a shit month honestly. Am I having good moments? Yes. Am I stressed every day about this disease? YES! Fun times. (I won’t be stressed every day if the scan results show that everything is the same tbh, like, then I’ll go back to ‘normal’ where I rarely think about it).

* Don’t write off the day until the day is over. I used to have this habit (and still can sometimes) of writing off the day as being ‘a bad day’ because of a terrible morning. I actually started this habit as a child, because of trauma and abuse, and it was something I kept doing because of mental illness. So this is something I was doing long before cancer came along and additionally kicked my ass. These days, even though I feel so bad sometimes I feel like hell, my entire life is a write off, I try and keep in mind that one thing can change the tone of the day and make it better. And that ‘thing’ can be me and my choices. And the fact is, even if I try some Youtube videos, or to pet my cats, or talk to friends, or whatever and it doesn’t work, at least I can look back and reassure myself: ‘You’re trying so hard, you’re really trying your best’ and also ‘you know this never lasts, it never has, you still have moments where you feel good, which means you’ll have a moment where you’ll feel good again. It’s okay. I’m okay.’

* Dark humour can be a saviour. Oh boy, can it ever. But be careful who you share it with.

* Gratitude for what you have now, and not what you might not in the future, because the future is an illusion, it’s not here now. But you are. I have a journal where I write down something I’m grateful for every day. Even if I’m feeling cynical and hateful and anxious and bitter. And then I might just say ‘I’m grateful for chips’ or ‘I’m grateful for that nice leaf I saw but nothing else’ lol. Just something. I’m grateful I can still hear, I might not hear one day, but I’m listening to a song right now. That matters. I’m grateful I can walk. I’m grateful I can read this post. I’m grateful I can still write my books despite the mild cognitive brain damage I got from radiation. My gratitude doesn’t always feel warm or nice, but I am still, somewhere, deep down, glad I haven’t lost those things.

***

It’s hard, and many of these things take time to learn, and repetition, and getting back on the wagon when you forget. Some days they won’t help, and some days you’ll be so glad of one 5 minute mindfulness meditation it saves the whole rest of the day for you. Sometimes sleeping is a really good reset tool for the brain.

Some people find Buddhism helpful (all life is suffering can become pretty zen when you’re suffering), I found the philosophy of Taoism helpful on top of my regular paganism.

ANYWAY this post is now...2,200 words long fuck that’s longer than some of my university essays I’M SO SORRY so I’m going to stop. Just, please anon, from the bottom of my heart, be gentle with yourself. It’s hard. This stuff is hard. It requires an unfair amount of effort to make it less hard, but that’s all life gives us, because life never promised to be fair or just or compassionate to us. So we must be fair and just and compassionate to ourselves. And that, in its messy imperfection, is all we can do to be a perfect part of this world. <3

#asks and answers #personal #dodgy advice #i have made so many dark cancer jokes with glen #the rule with dark humour is that you can make tasteless jokes about your own condition #but other people who *don't* have it #can't #but they can laugh with you #lol #anyway yeah also just... #get a really good list of things that make you feel better #sad or happy or whatever #youtube vids or fics or novels or art #collect the things and the people #that bring some light into your life #curate your existence with hope and compassion to the parts of you that are so so afraid #administrator Gwyn wants this in the queue #Anonymous

[leanarg]

((Warning!: I might have let my imagination run a little too freely haha but I think it’s not so bad... Hope you enjoy reading it and then please forget about it ;P  Thanks! <3 [5.4K] ))

Practice Challenge Sense of duty

Everything was gray. Everything always is at this hour of the day. Dozens of messy draft notes on my desk waiting to be finished, but I knew if I turned even for a second I could miss this.

I stared into the rising sun in the distance, it looks as if an enormous golden eye was spying on us. It’s rays somehow starting to paint the sky of soothing lavender and brilliant amber colors that reflected on every building tall enough to escape the shadows; fortunately, The Globe building qualified among them.

It’s not like I owned the building or anything but just being able to work here has always -since last year- made me feel a sort of pride, and looking out at the city at dawn while the strong smell of coffee flooded the entire office, has become a special habit of mine to reinforce that feeling.

While traffic sounds managed to filter from outside through the thick, fancy glass of the building I’ve always found it hard to fight the childish impulse to try to spot any delivery truck among all the vehicles that look so small from up here. Our bulldog edition was printed and sold to the distributors the previous night to be out first thing in the morning and by now the Daily should be already in the stands, stores, and even at the front doors of our subscribers for them to know what’s going on in this and other countries. Like a window to the world. It makes the long process worthwhile.

That’s right, physic solid newspapers. I sighed. What I wouldn’t do to see my name printed on a broadsheet, under the tailpiece of a “hard news” story and announced on the first-page headline. That’s the dream, The goal.

But surprisingly, in that particular moment, all those thoughts were replaced by something else.

Herson Grant, editor in chief of The Globe - or like I call him, dad -summoned us to give us “off the record” information. We got the news we all, in some way, knew they were coming. Illèa’s prince had reached the age required to have a selection and since his scandalous engagement brake off last year, the country was expectant. There hadn’t been an official announcement yet, but as press, we had our sources.

We were told to be prepared for the changes this big event would signify for the newspaper. Of course, as soon as the selection starts, or even before, the complete broadsheets will be covered by it. From “Business” to “Society” and of course “Politics”.

The Selection was important for every Illéa citizen in one way or another, that was made clear years ago by the general shock caused by the news of Queen Anjali canceling hers. I remembered reading about it on some old newspaper editions. The country was divided; some, supported her demonstration of independence and capacity to make decisions even against what's expected, and others organized strikes to show their discontent.

I thought Her Majesty’s decision might have some selfishness in it, considering a lot of people were affected by it, but when it comes to putting duty and love on the same scale…  

Is choosing love selfish?

I wasn’t the most capable person to answer that question, considering that every guy I’d dated in college had ended up in horrible disappointments.

“You definitely have a thing for jerks, Lea” Liv said to me once before suggesting I should date the guys I would never even consider dating, as a solution, but honestly I preferred to focus on my career and all the things I wanted to achieve professionally.

That way the only one who could disappoint me is myself. And I wasn’t going to let that happen.

The news of the upcoming event was circling my head, causing uncertainty and anticipation feelings inside. As an entertainment reporter and writer on the digital platform of The Globe, this whole thing was going to give me a lot of work to do. The public would want to know everything. And I would have to know about dresses, sponsors, twos applying, twos not applying and

If I listen carefully I will be able to hear the crashing sound of all those famous relationships breaking. I laughed for myself.

I might have been joking about it, but my brain was already listing the prospects and the interviews I would have to schedule in the next few weeks. But, my mind went even further this time, I caught it considering an application. I wouldn’t have to write about gossips and chatter but most of all, the idea of taking part in one of the most important events of our time suddenly sounded incredibly appealing.  

All the lives, all the stories. The real stories.

My curiosity was taking control.

“Leana.” I recognized the annoyed voice behind me, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes, Rita.” I turned, her exasperated face didn’t surprise me.

Rita was my editor, one of the several ones around here, she was in charge of the digital side of The Global, more specifically the “socials” department. She was a non-natural blond, middle-aged woman, and not very fond of me.

“Just came from the upper floor, the boss wants to see you.”

I smiled on the inside. Her common ways with me used to be unsettling a year ago but with time they had become somehow amusing for me. “Can I just mention, that new tone of yellow on your hair... compliments your skin tone?” I said, keeping the overdue polite tone, but always careful of not giving any hint of sarcasm.

She had a slight moment of content on her face but then she switched for a glare. “Didn’t you hear me?”

I snickered, I had an appointment for an interview and no time to get on further with the teasing.  “I do, but…” I frowned and stopped to check my watch, my eyes widened at the hour. My father was always aware of my exact work schedule, so it didn’t make sense he was sending for me when he knew I wasn’t even supposed to be here anymore.

I started, more to myself than to her. “That’s strange, my dad knew-”

“No, girl, I’m talking about the real boss.” She interrupted me with an amused expression. Of course, she had intentionally hidden that little detail to mock me.

I wonder how she knew I wasn’t going to tell my father about her using the words “real boss” in that sentence. He would definitely take it as a disrespect to the position he had earned with years of work. Though some might think it wasn’t that hard for him.

During his time as a reporter, he had given Maxwell Loyd, - the head chief, and owner of the editorial-, a lot of profits with his excellent nose for scandals and exclusives.

Unlike me, my father used to have his vocation among the showbiz world. He’d got a certain charm, the eloquence to talk and enchant people, so the celebrities used to spill the whole tea about their personal lives and relationships to him, just like that. Probably that same irresistible charm was what made my mom fall for him.

I know, more than a charm sounds like a superpower.  

 Anyhow, I didn’t think the later discredited his achievements. I liked to think I have inherited some of it, but the society and entertainment world were not the kind of journalism I’d dreamt to do and I wasn’t planning to keep doing it.

“Coffee?” Mr. Loyd offered with serious countenance. I had been sitting in front of his desk for almost 5 minutes and he hadn’t said anything. He was just walking around his office moving papers from one place to another, then plugging his laptop and doing what seemed to be his daily routine in his incredibly fancy office. Meanwhile I was following him with my eyes, as if by staring, I could somehow make the words burst out. I cleaned my throat before, “I appreciate your offer, Sir… I wonder if you had considered my request?” I asked, daring to guess this whole thing was about the proposal I had sent days ago attached to several reports of stories I had been investigating. They were not finished, but I knew that with the support of the editorial office, more specifically,  its resources I could find the missing pieces and they would be ready to publish. On paper. Because they were worthy of it. He leaned forward supporting both of his arms on his desk and I could swear I saw a little smirk on his face. “I have read it, Miss Grant, but you are here because the selection is almost here and as a writer of entertainment on the digital platform I wanted to know about your plans to cover everything related to it. Of course he did.

My shoulders slumped and I bet my face showed all my disappointment. “Well, I already have a list of the twos that I think would be participating …” He reclined on his comfortable chair, pensative. “I was thinking about more original content.” Before I could answer anything he added, “have you considered applying?” “Excuse me?” Was he suggesting what I think he was suggesting?

“I mean, as a young Illéan citizen it’s only natural that you want to give it a shot.” He shrugged innocently. “I just wanted to know how many people I can count on, during that time.” The suggestive tone hadn’t left his voice. “Even to know when to schedule a meeting to talk about your interesting proposal.” So that’s where his smirk came from. I swallowed my surprise and played along. “The idea crossed my mind when we were informed this morning, but I have projects here that I’m not sure I would want to put on hold. So, nothing is decided.” I gave him what I hoped was a short relaxed smile. “Miss Grant, you are quite a smart girl.” He sighed. “I rely on your discretion about this.” It wasn’t even a question. He left from his seat and I followed him to the door. “One thing, I had an appointment to interview Gerald Ross, I was supposed to be there now.” I checked my clock again. “Don’t worry about it, I sent someone to replace you.” With a short nod he closed the door behind me.

I stayed there for some seconds, taking everything in. This floor had a stronger smell of coffee, surely it was from a better quality.

I didn’t know what to feel. Should I’ve been feeling angry? Insulted? Then why was I considering it?

No! I was already doing that before this conversation happened. I thought, trying to reassure myself and to bury my ambition.

I looked around coming to my senses, everyone was focused on work, the sound of their fingers typing on the keyboards resounded on this floor level as they did on all the others, luckily no one had seen me there, standing like an idiot. Except for...

My eyes spotted my dad walking towards me, with a smile in his eyes.

“Miss Grant, I was informed you were in a meeting. Is there a problem?”

My father and I had a strange strategy to keep the professional talk during our work hours and the father and daughter moments at home, but honestly we almost never succeeded.

“I rely on your discretion about this” I remembered the boss’ words.

“Uh, yeah-no… It was about a proposal I sent Mr. Loyd” I chose to answer, doing too many hand gestures. I always have always hated that horrible habit of mine. I looked up at my dad and I noticed the unmistakable guilt all over his face. I frowned, as my brain connected the dots. “You have been talking with him about my proposal, didn’t you?” “Miss Grant...” He said with a warning glare. He didn’t want to do this now, not in front of his subordinates. I didn’t want to make a scene either, I had a professional reputation to maintain too, and almost everyone in the building already thought I had gotten my job only because of my father’s position.

I’ve had to live my life proving myself to them, to my exes, to my boss and even to my dad.

I clenched my jaw. “I should have known it.” My words were full of anger but I kept the steady tone. My father and I had a beautiful relationship, we understood each other, we supported each other, except that he had never wanted me to change the entertainment journalism for the hard news. And I just had found out that he not only didn’t support my dream but he probably had prevented it from happening. And maybe this wasn’t the first time, I had sent letters and requests to the boss more than once. He remained silent, but his expression was almost apologetic.  

“I have work to do.” I said after calling the lift.

Back in my workplace, the sky at the other side of the glass had lost its colorful tones to show a light tone of blue. I could sense a headache coming, but the dress wrapped in plastic and delivered to my desk was a reminder that I didn’t have the time to be miserable. My mother had helped me to choose it the previous day and we asked the store to send it here today. The thought of my mother made me want to call her and vent about all the thoughts that were  bothering me, Virginia Grant was the only mediator that had always been able to fix any argument between me and my dad.

“How could you marry him?... I mean, you were a two!” I asked her one day.

She smiled. She knew I didn’t mean it. It was one of those exasperating times when you can only remember the negative things about a person, and even make a long list of them. Of course my mother had a list on her own, but hers was completely opposite from mine. She loved my dad but based on my experiences, that kind of love was something I was far to understand.

The call would have been a delay as well, so I picked the dress, my backpack and headed to the bathroom to get ready.

The dress was black and long, without my high heels its border would sweep the floor. Elegant enough to make me feel pretty but somehow simple and comfortable with hidden pockets at its sides for my pen and journal. Ideal to go around covering an event from the red carpet until the last two would leave the party.

For a moment I wished I was the kind of girl that brightens with a nice outfit, but I had a lot to think about and a headache, with nothing but my professionalism to hold on to.

I checked my reflection on the mirror a couple of times before a couple of ’dings' on my cell phone announcing a message.

“YEAH YEAH YOU LOOK DECENT, LET’S GOOO!”

I walked outside to the busy city, the honking of cars and the strolling people; just an ordinary day. The sun rays and clear sky forced me to squint and narrow my eyes, but even then I could easily spot Harris' wild long curls tied on a small ponytail back at his neck. He was facing the street, but looking down at his camera screen, probably getting it ready for the upcoming red carpet.

Photographers gadgets is probably the only topic I avoided asking about since that one time I dared to inquire about camera settings. He gave me a complete lecture about all the tools that could be used to fix the light before taking a picture, and I ended up more clueless than before. 

“Wow!... no one can ruin a nice dress like you do, boss”  He said when he turned around. 

 I rolled my eyes “Says the boy with the twisted bowtie” We had to speak up so our voices didn’t get lost among the noise surrounding us, but beside that, my tone sounded more harsh than intended. 

Harris and I had been working together since we both entered The Globe editorial office. He was assigned to be my assistant photographer, and he was a great one. We made a good team at the beginning and after a year I would say we had become good friends. He’s always mocking about how everyone hates me for my last name and I mock him for ...being him. 

He let his camera hang from his neck and fidgeted with his bowtie trying to fix it. “Hmm… I guess the meeting didn’t go well”

I turned my head almost too quickly at his remark. “Which meeting?” “You all reporters had a meeting this morning, right? You texted me about it.” He frowned, I wasn’t sure if it was because he had noticed something was going on or because he was giving up on making his bowtie look presentable. 

“Oh, yes that one. It was to-” I massaged my forehead slightly “to confirm Prince Arin is sending application letters before long, so the selection will happen” 

He shrugged. “I already see all the extra work complaints coming” he said sarcastically. 

He knew I was always working on not assigned notes and sometimes I dared to drag him into helping me, even when that was not included on his paycheck. 

But right now he had no idea what he was talking about and I couldn’t tell him; even if I could, he would have started to ask questions I wouldn’t have been able to answer. Besides, I hadn't made my decision yet. I scoffed a laugh. “Come on, let’s find the Vespa before we both lose our jobs for being late to the PET gala.” “Well, my charm would have to do.” He shrugged looking down at his still twisted bowtie. “It won’t.”

When we arrived at the old Festerman mansion the place was already bursting with energy. The large carpet was placed across the garden and part of the street. The celebrities hadn’t arrived yet and the fanatics were being held somewhere waiting for the time they could access their special place closer to their idols, even when it was too early we could listen to their cheering screams from time to time which I guess were more for them to bear the waiting than to anyone else.

Cast, crew and the carpet runners were coming and going from one place to another taking care of last details and keeping the order among the press people; always being careful not to step on the soft fabric on the floor, otherwise it’s bright striking red tone would turn into crimson before the guests’ arrival.

The media pen was already open so after parking my yellow Vespa we quicken our step towards our designed slot. Along my first year as a reporter I had to make important acquaintances and no matter what other people could say the most important ones are not the celebrities but the backstage people, the ones that could be invisible for the majority and essential at the same time. 

“Tom!” I shouted and waved when I spotted the red carpet runner. He was in charge of supervising the press on several red carpet events. 

We’d met once at the Angeles movie awards, he blocked my way when I wanted to get close to Serena Davis but I took an expensive pin off my hair and convinced him she had dropped it and she would want it back. It was one of those times I felt even more thankful for my grandmother’s fancy presents. Of course he got mad when he saw me doing an interview almost in the middle of the carpet but his attitude changed as soon as I started to interview him to do a behind the scenes article.

Actually, it turned out to be a success.

“The new guys!” He greeted us. “Who do you want me to send your way this time?” hHe asked. Our colleagues at our sides, stopped arranging their things for a moment and gave us a glance, we pretended we didn’t notice. “Umm, Angelina Brown, Meryl Miller, Brady Tylor… I think Lin Yang has some drama going on right now and the Lane-Cadwell couple would be great, if you can He let out a long whistle. “The couple would be hard but I will see what I can do.” He fixed his eyes on Harris' neck and pointed. “Your bowtie is all … wrong.”

“Harder than Estelle Dawson?” Harris asked with a smirk, leaning on the structure that was keeping us at the edge of the carpet ignoring completely Tom’s observation. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scolded. It was not that my grandmother was hard to reach as the celebrity that she was but she would never, under any circumstances, get close to me while I’m on duty. 

She still hated my father for stealing her daughter and resented my mother for marrying a three, but she seemed to be fond of me and my baby brother. At least that’s what I felt when she made us visit her at her home. She used to send the limo just for the two of us. Tom looked confused at our talk so he just excused himself and left to continue with his chores. 

“Light test!” Harris let out suddenly. He always used to say that when he needed me to turn to the camera to take me a picture, it helped him to prove if it was set correctly according to the lights in the place. I tried to smile a little for it. 

“So, I need an update... and the plan,” he continued casually, while he took a look at my recently taken picture. 

Harris and I were sent to cover the PET event, interviewing the celebrities and updating the people live on the newspaper's new blog. I asked him to capture a moment or person with his camera and sent it to my cell phone then I posted it with a caption and the people enjoyed the content from the comfort of their houses. It wasn’t so bad, but I had other motives. 

The host of the massive PET event, Lanna Winster was a splendid, exotic retired actress; lovely to the public eyes; generous. She had the enough power, connections and money to organize this traditional gala to raise money for the animal shelter Paw-Prints animal shelter. Of course, her friends and celebrities adore, and support her. When you googled her name you could find an infinite amount of pictures of her posing with all kinds of lovely animals. 

We had the honor to meet her for a short interview a few months ago at one of her luxurious mansions for the newspaper’s blog. Not even at the most prestigious hotel we were treated that well. Harris was desperate to come back for a second interview someday. For me, she was only a wealthy woman doing some good with her loose change. 

My real job started when rumors started circulating around the office. An  anonymous source had seen talking with the main organizer of some sort of hunting convention. Everyone was shocked with the news but in absence of evidence we couldn’t make anything public. I spend a lot of time searching documents, watching her old interviews, and reading information on antique papers. I even swallowed my disgust and tried to apply for the hunting convention myself, but applications were closed until next year. 

Who would think that murderers were that organized?

I didn’t have anything, until a few weeks ago The Globe received a press invitation for the PET gala, we were informed it had been moved to the old Festerman mansion, which seemed very unusual. 

National events with that level of importance always took place in Angeles; and the old mansion was… very old and until she decided to make small repairs “just for the event”, it had been pretty much forgotten. 

As soon as I knew this, I made some visits to the Festerman mansion, the first time I wanted to get inside, but someone had posted a guard on the entrance, I also spotted security cameras around the property. 

The rest of the time was just there to have some nice chats during my lunch breaks. The guard was just a few years older than me, basic humor and didn’t seem amused with his job. And I was supposed to be some neighbor on my way home stopping to say hi three days in a row. By Friday I already had what I was looking for. A name. 

“... just… I think you should send a complaint note or something” I said lifting a shoulder. “Hard workers have some rights and you should be allowed to get out for a drink or something during the day, I mean besides the lunch break that you have to take in here.” I made a grimace for emphasis. He laughed a little and after some seconds he said, “I don’t think Miss Jean would mind if I-” I recognized the name as soon as I heard it, I had it written on my journal. She was Lanna’s maid. I checked my watch before he could even finish his sentence, “I’m so sorry, I’m running late, but I really think a complaint note could work.” Harris didn’t know the last part of the story so when I finished he was amused. “I can’t believe he fell for that one!” “Yeah, that’s not the important part of the story, Harris” I said. My mood was a bit better after telling him the whole story so I didn’t mind his teasing. He never seemed interested in my clandestine work, but for some reason he was always willing to help. 

This was the closest I’d ever been to have a complete story worthy of the front page of a newspaper. Loyd would have another option but publish it and I wouldn’t have to apply for the selection.

At least not under his terms.

As the light and warmth of the day ebbed, the bright light of the big reflectors filled the place, the red carpet went on as usual. 

The celebrities paraded along the garden matching their fashionable expensive dresses with their pets. We saw dogs, cats, rabbits, even horses -which had to remain parked outside- The carpet had to be cleaned more than once during the night, but the staff seemed to be well aware of that since the beginning. The afternoon passed between flashes, short interviews and fans alternating between shouting names and expressing “awwe’s” at the sight of their favorite people and their cute companions. 

I got almost all the interviews I wanted and Harris captured all the relevant moments, but the event was far from the end.

The night had arrived by the time we got inside the mansion. Lenna Winster had made several repairs on the property but I suspected she had kept an ancient look for aesthetic purposes. The interior looked old but solid. They had placed several tables around a big room, decorations on the walls and bar for drinks at the end. The press had their own place to eat, but it wasn’t forbidden to wander around or get a drink as soon as  we didn’t follow or bother the celebrities with any more questions. Although we were permitted to take pictures  and record videos to keep the public updated.

“This is good, but not as good as I expected.” Harris complained as he took a break from the camera to finish his blueberry trifle. “We haven’t tasted better deserts than the ones that gave us at that restaurant inauguration, remember? I said with a small smile as I looked around the room, noticing every movement.

My eyes were mostly on Lanna and her people, but I couldn’t make it obvious, so I just took some time to make annotations on my journal. Who was chatting with who, which celebrities were friends now, which were friends and now they were not. No that I cared about gossip, but those kinds of details could be very useful sometimes. My eyes crossed with my grandma’s a couple of times, but the most I got from her was an acknowledging nod and she got a smile in return. What would she think about me applying for the selection?  I laughed inside. Of course she would love it!

“Are you kidding? I will never forget how sick I felt the next day for eating that much...”  

Harris continued talking, but I couldn’t hear the rest of his story, because right at that moment a tall, black haired young man, who I recognized at the guard of the mansion, entered the room and whispered something to one Lanna’s bodyguard. He leaned towards the table where his employer was sitting, interrupting her chatting and laughing with the people at her table. They exchanged some words in what seemed to be a low tone and then both of her custodians started to walk away, leaving her unprotected. I raised from our table trying to conceal my rush. I kept my journal back in my pocket and took my purse from the table. “I will be right back.” I said to my friend, I couldn’t quite catch his reaction because my eyes were set on our host’s guards. I quickened my steps among tables and people, turning back slightly. I guessed since neither I was any celebrity nor I was bothering any, no one paid attention to me. 

I followed them out of the room and across a long corridor, just a few waiters passed by but they kept focused on their duties. The music and laughter was fading behind us, the house outside the main room looked genuinely old, but fortunately, this floor had been fully carpeted, otherwise my high heels would have been a problem. 

They finally stopped after rounding a corner by what it seemed like a back door. I stayed hidden behind the wall but ventured to peek my head to see what they were doing. Both guards were opening a big wooden box that based on what they said it had been delivered to the wrong house. One of them reached down and picked out something that at first it looked like some ...kind of... soft material, but when it was out completely I was sure it was fur. Real fur.

I stared at it for some seconds, not quite sure what to do.

I need a picture. My hands were shaking while I opened my small purse while I kept eye contact with the fur of a dead tigger. I managed to get my cell phone out but as soon as I lifted it to shoot, it slid and dropped on the floor making a “thunk” sound against the carpet.

Damn! I didn’t stay to know if they had heard me. I picked up my phone and walked as fast as I could without looking back heading for the main door. 

Outside the night was dark and starless, it was late but there was still some traffic on the street. I texted Harris to meet me outside with my clumsy fingers. I was still shaking but this time it was out of anger and frustration. How could I be so stupid?!! I was so close?!! 

On our way home, Harris sensed my mood and didn’t ask me anything, he knew I would talk about it tomorrow before or after we get scolded for not staying till the end of the event to cover it completely.  But I wasn’t worrying about that, all I could do was to drive while I questioned myself. A day that had looked so nice in the morning had gone so wrong. What was I thinking, risking myself for nothing! I shouldn’t be doing any of this. Maybe my father was right, maybe everyone was right and I wasn’t made for this work.

In the middle of my messy angry thoughts the selection came to my mind again, or maybe it had never left. I decided I was going to fill that application letter as soon as it arrived home. But why was I doing this? To accept my boss’ proposal? To satisfy my own curiosity about Illèas biggest tradition? Or maybe, like Queen Anjali I needed that... something to even my life scale, which so far was fully inclined to the “duty” side. 

#PC #OC6 #((can't believe I'm finally posting this)) #((it took me soooo long)) #((THANK YOU SO MUCH ALL THE SUPPORT CASSEY!!! )) #((THANK YOU FOR READING SIMEE))

[standingmanintheshadow]

The Gambler

Chapter 1: Abracadabra

Summery:

Elijah Adler, a paranormal investigator who has some paranormal abilities himself in the form of magic playing cards, has been tricked, and now in the depths of the Handeemen Studios, he must now fight for his life with his new puppet pal.

This is a new story that I'm testing the waters with on this website, if all things goes well and if u want it then I'll post more. Be sure to make suggestions to improve the story or grammar issues.

“A car could be seen driving down a dark back road; The car bounced up and down as the car ran over the small cracks in the road. The driver turned on the radio, which sparkled to life and began playing a radio show from the nearby town. "Elijah Adler, is he one of the best or the worst paranormal investigators out there? We will start taking callers so that you can give your opinion.” the radio host said as the driver who was listening was merely grinning let the radio in his car continue. “Well, because of him, my house caught on fire, and all he said was that he was fighting a water spirit and needed fire to defeat it,” a caller said. “Yeah, that’s weird; the guy is even weirder. Have you seen him? He always has a deck of blank playing cards with him at all times; there is something about that guy, something I don’t like.” the radio host said. 

The driver quickly turned off the radio and deeply sighed “if they only knew what the truth was, but they will soon know when I, Elijah Adler, saves the world from destruction,” Elijah boasted while pulling out a blank playing card and turning into a cigarette. “Man, this ability is convenient,” he thought as he lit the cigarette. Still, before he could take a puff of his cigarette, he noticed that the car was starting to slow down at an exponential rate and then stopping in a matter of a minute. 

 “FUCK” Elijah screamed as his car started to stop in the middle of the deserted road. He got out and lifted the hood of his vehicle to assess the damage. “I might be one of the best paranormal investigators out there, but I’m no fucking mechanic,” Elijah muttered quietly to himself as he felt his anger quickly rising within him. “Alright, Elijah, calm down, there’s probably a place around here that can fix my car,” he said, instantly calming down. He looked around the road and noticed a rusted sign pole that said Handeemen Studio .5 Miles.

“Well, that is convenient, I hope somebody there can help me,” he said as he went back into his car to get all the necessities like his coat, bag, and folder holding his next case. He opened the folder making sure nothing was lost “well, it looks like this pizzeria is gonna have to wait until I can get my car back into working shape,” he muttered while putting the folder into his bag. He locked his car and started to walk.

After ten minutes of walking, Elijah noticed a large building with what looked like a puppet with a top hat and monocle that said Handeemen Studios, “I’m guessing this is my stop,” he said as he approached the door of the building. As he opened the door and went inside, the first thing he noticed was the horrible smell of the lousy quality paint that was on the walls and a matter of fact, the walls themselves were peeling off, showing bugs that use it for nesting; Elijah shuddered with disgust and moved on. 

He explored the lobby until he saw what looked like a person sitting at a table with a red cloth above them. The man was wearing a black covering on his head with a noose around his neck, making sure it didn’t come off. Still, the weirdest part about this guy’s appearance was that he seemed to have a puppet of what looked like the puppet on the building on his right hand. “hey, can you help me? My car broke down a half a mile from here, do know where a mechanic shop is?” he said while gaining no response from the man as he had his left hand on his head signify that he was bored.

“Maybe he didn’t hear me,” Elijah reasoned and started to walk towards the man and was about to repeat what he said until the puppet sprung to life. “Welcome old bean to the Handeemen Studio. I am Mortimer Handee pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The now ‘alive’ puppet said in a British accent, “This man is a good ventriloquist, I wonder if he does birthday parties,” Elijah thought to himself as he decided to play along. “Well, Mr.Handee, I was wondering if you know if there is someone who can help me fix my car,” he said, trying his best to do a British accent but failing at it. 

“No, I cannot help you, sir, but you seem like you need fun in your life. So why not take a patented Handee man puppet free of charge,” he said as the floor in front of Elijah opened up to reveal five puppets that had different colors and hairstyles, but ultimately looked the same in structure.

“Pick one, their all the same,” Mortimer said with a slight grin. Elijah stared at the five puppets. “These look like these belong together, I think you should just keep them,” Elijah replied in a neutral tone; in reality, he did not want the puppets, since they looked like they could be infested with bugs or diseases. Mortimer, on the other hand, was utterly baffled. Everyone who came in this building accepted a puppet, but pushing his thoughts aside, he decided to try to convince this man a tool, “you do not need to worry, my friend these puppets are meant to find homes with people, and one of them will be happy with you” he said.   

“Look, dude, I don’t want one of your puppets. They look like they’re infested with roaches,” Elijah said with brutal honesty while looking at the man with the cloth mask and not Mortimer. But before any of them could say anything, Elijah’s phone started ringing, startling both of them. Elijah pulled out his phone and answered it while Mortimer looked like he was about to explode with anger.

 “Hello,” Elijah said while walking around the room. There were a couple of seconds of silence as the person of the other end replied, “well, Mr.Smith I’m sorry, but my car broke down, it looks like my investigation is gonna have to wait until I get it fixed,” he said as he ended the call and turned back to the man and puppet. “Isn’t it rude to answer a call while you are having a conversation with someone?” Mortimer asked judgmentally while making it evident that he was livid.

Elijah sighed, “look, dude, I think we got off on the wrong foot, look I’ll take one of those puppets. So you don’t get your panties in a twist,” he said while looking at the five puppets. He picked up the one in the middle and started showing it off to Mortimer by posing with it mockingly. “You know, there is a certain magic about Handeemen puppets, they wear you,” Mortimer said with absolute glee as the man who was ‘controlling’ him fell face-first onto the table. Mortimer then started to chant something in another language. Around him, a green mist began to form around Mortimer and eventually the room, but before the spell ended, Elijah’s eyes rolled back into his head as he fainted. 

#hello puppets #fanfiction #mortimer handee #Elijah Adler #hello puppets au

[thenugking]

Grand Academy For Future Villains II: Attack of the Sequel, Chapter 2: Son of Chapter Two. A commentary for Three.

General CW for the whole thing: parental abuse, internalised dehumanisation as a trauma response. Three’s not doing well.

Specific CW for this chapter: vomit mention

Game 1

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

Game 2

Chapter 0 | Chapter 1

Alternatively, read on Google Docs here

***

The monitors in the hall flicker as if in welcome as you head toward your room, on the upper level with the second and third year students. The vacuum tube hisses as you step in, and with a whoosh, delivers you to the upper level, where the rooms are larger, and, you've heard, equipped with command centers that will enable you to access the surveillance footage from all over the Academy. There's also a kitchenette, for those students who still feel the need to eat.

They are also, as you discover as you open your door, already occupied.

Right. Val’s first appearance. Val is always a character I’ve struggled with. They’re set up as a major character with a very important bond to your character, but that link just doesn’t add anything to Three’s story, and the bond feels a lot less important to them than their bonds with Aurion, or Xi, or Phil, or Maedryn. Which is particularly a problem when Val just decides they’re Three’s nemesis. They like Val, and are sorry about their destiny but they’re just… not that important to Three. 

As of Scorpius’ last playthrough, I’ve solved the problem by making Val into Scorpius’ roommate, nemesis, and person they’re Linked to instead. It still doesn’t work perfectly, but Scorpius is at least a lot more invested in Val’s plot than Three ever was.

So, while Three and Val will get to know each other later, and Val will talk about destinies and narrative weight, and Three will affirm that they want neither of those things, for now they get to arrive at an empty room, which, honestly, they very much need. They’ve already had to deal with an army of clones of themself, the violent dissolution of Professor Mortwain’s school, A Baroness thinking they might have some importance, and Aurion switching dorms. In a few minutes, Maedryn’s going to call them and they’re going to have a whole new horrible problem. They at least deserve a little break, and a private place to curl up in a tiny ball and try to block out everything that’s going on, instead of having to deal with a suspicious roommate, an illegal pet, a lack of their own space, and once again being told that they’re important. 

And, now they have a few minutes to spare, they can log in to their DarkBoard portal.

THREE. WE HAVE MISSED YOU. EVEN THOUGH WE HAVE LONG SINCE SLIPPED THE SURLY BONDS OF THE FLESH.

Three had not been expecting/was violently suppressing any hope of much influence of Xi in DarkBoard’s consciousness. This is… too much for them to process at the moment. They think maybe they haven’t quite curled up and blocked everything out quite enough, and they should do that again, maybe while keeping a tight hold on their personal DarkBoard portal to make sure they don’t lose it. When they check later, there is no official record of them mumbling, “I missed you, too,” so they clearly didn’t say it.

"Access authority recognized," says DarkBoard, in the pleasant, unplaceable tones you associate with its default interface voice. "Assessment processing. Three. Sophomore. Teaching Assistant, Course Undefined. Their most notable trait is their competence. Their financial aid standing is GOOD based on their mother's position as a member of the faculty. Their nemesis is unknown. Three is surprisingly attractive though regrettably meat-based.”

I’m sure at some point, either Val or someone else asks DarkBoard to assess Three’s narrative weight (which, currently at 27%, is 27% higher than Three would like). I do like that they’re officially recorded as being Hot. Three… feels this official record may open up a few too many dangerous questions, but they can’t quite help feeling happy when they hear it, anyway.

"I'm sure you've had a chance to look over this year's course catalog," she says, "and you've seen that I have quite a full teaching schedule in addition to my duties maintaining the school support staff. I've requested you for my lab assistant this year. You're already on the roster as a TA, so there won't be any problem on that front.

Your mother's eyes go out of focus for a moment. She seems to be struggling to balance all of the demands on her time and brain-power; you wonder if somewhere in the kitchens a handful of replicas have just run into a wall or set something on fire. "And, of course, I'm the temporary Faculty Sponsor for Science Fiction, and you and I are going to need to establish a few quick schemes regarding Certain Events coming up this year." 

So your mother doesn't yet know that you know about the upcoming genre competition. Sona is spearheading the student effort in Science Fiction; evidently she hasn't passed word of your contest in the Shadow Council lounge to the genre's Faculty Sponsor. Maybe Sona's just not the sort to deal with details. 

"I'll have DarkBoard process your assignment as my lab assistant," your mother goes on, "and I'll see you in the faculty lounge in 15 minutes."

She pinches her temples. "I have high expectations of you; I'm putting in a great deal of work and you'll be doing the same. I had to fight Fen and Ulik for you—literally and metaphorically, in reverse order—but they can just find teaching assistants from a lower quality of student."

You shuffle through the papers in your returning student packet. There are three professors at the Grand Academy requesting teaching assistants. Your mother is one, of course, but there are others. Professor Fen, an all-but-dissertation perpetual grad student you remember as the assistant professor for Evil Genius, is up for tenure. Professor Ulik, head of Evil Architecture and Design, is on probation after her participation in the Faculty Rebellion last year, and tenure means her chance to avoid dismemberment for disloyalty. 

Whatever your mother's plans for you, you have a choice about whether to work for her as a lab assistant this year. Of course, refusal will mean that your mother won't be bankrolling this year at the Academy…but maybe you don't need that as much as you did last year.

Well, it’s certainly good to hear that Sona hasn’t told Maedryn that Three lost a fight to her. After all the training Maedryn’s put them through, going up against an opponent with multiple weapons attached to her body is no excuse for a loss.

The rest of this conversation though, is something Three’s been dreading. In their first year, they’d been looking forward to the possibility of being a TA. They’d love to put together syllabuses, and be useful to a teacher by keeping things nice and ordered for them, and you can always get a different perspective from reading your classmate’s essays. Or alternatively, you can discover their failings from it. But soon after Maedryn got her job as Forbidden Science Professor, they realised she’d probably want them TAing for her, which made the prospect sound somehow a lot more frightening and exhausting than it was before. Not that they had any intention of disobeying.

They would, however, have loved to TA for Professor Ulik. She’s always been their favourite professor, and they’re compatible enough that they would probably work very well together. Finding out she apparently values Three’s skills, and trusts their dedication, enough to physically fight Maedryn the Quantum Sorceress for them, while knowing her TA could be the difference between her life and death, though… Three isn’t sure they’ve ever been valued like that before. And they certainly don’t deserve that trust.

Three cannot go against their mother on an instruction like this. This would be not only disobedience, but actively working for her rival. They’ve already been through the struggle of losing her financial support in their first year, and they never want to deal with that again. And even that would be nothing compared to losing Maedryn’s good graces. They don’t want to imagine what that would be like.

And then they think about Phil. And they shake when they ask DarkBoard to cancel their assignment as Maedryn’s lab assistant. And call up Professor Ulik and tell her that if she still wishes, they would be honoured to work for her.

When they meet Maedryn in the faculty lounge, they apologise that Professor Ulik had just spoken to them, and that they’d realised that with her connections, she could be useful to both of them, particularly with Three in such an important position to her. Besides, they both know that Maedryn will be incredible whether or not she has Three as a TA, unlike some professors. Which is all technically true, and in the end, Maedryn is unhappy, but accepts their reasoning. It doesn’t stop them being more scared than they’ve ever been before, and having to quickly walk to the nearest bathroom to throw up once they’ve finished their conversation. But they’re surprised to find that it all feels entirely worth it.

As a Science Fiction student, you know from the beginning that you and Professor Ulik are going to be a good fit. She's practical and straightforward, thinking of things in terms of components and deliverables and specifications.

"Three. You've chosen well." Professor Ulik may be teaching Evil Architecture, but her office is a temporary cubicle made of false walls and filing boxes, in a partially used floor of the Design Building. There's a clock mounted on the wall over her pasteboard desk, with midnight labeled as FINAL RECKONING FOR PROFESSOR ULIK and the hand slowly advancing toward it. Clearly the administration wants her to remember that she's only here on sufferance after the role she played in the faculty rebellion last year. And it's equally clear, as she talks with you, that she is neither intimidated by nor conciliatory to the administration. You know that you've raised her odds of achieving a permanent position just by choosing her as your professor. You have a reputation as one of the brightest students in the Academy. 

"The Head didn't terminate me immediately," she says briskly, bringing her hand down in a disconcertingly good imitation of a guillotine blade, "which means it does need me more than I need it. Evil Design—evil architecture, evil graphic and visual arts, evil urban planning—that's where the money is to be made, and the School Head knows it, for all its booming and flitting and general ghastliness. Now, as to what you'll be doing for me. Standard TA duties, of course, and that will ensure your scholarship is fully funded. Attendance, help with student questions, making sure the design labs are set up with all the relevant materials. But if you're interested in really getting the most out of this opportunity, I may have some special tasks for you."

#I chose Professor Ulik because of the opportunities to learn and advance my career. I'll do more than she's asked, and impress her.

"I am interested in getting the most out of this opportunity," you say. "I'll do…anything I can for you."

Professor Ulik gives a critical sort of sniff. "You can start by working on your brown-nosing skills," she says, "that sounded too much like an attempted seduction, and there won't be any call for that sort of extra-credit work. I'm going to need you to start with the filing."  

Filing! You love filing. Too many villains neglect the importance of proper administrative procedure. Indexing 50 stellar years of Fortress and Lair and Journal of the Association of Evil Civil Engineers might strike some as pointless busywork, but you mark relevant articles, track notable names, and manage to identify a recurring design trend (designing sewers for tempting vulnerability) that earns you a pleased nod from Professor Ulik. She even incorporates this into her Advanced Studies in Evil Infrastructure, and sends it as a proposal to an upcoming conference on Resiliency in the Evil City. You don't get the credit, but you do get the satisfaction of seeing the hand on the reckoning clock actually reverse direction.

They really do work well together, and this feels like the most satisfying work Three’s ever done. Their respect and admiration for Ulik only grows after the way she talks about the School Head, and they have to fight not to smile when the clock’s hand goes backwards.

And I would hope they have better brown-nosing skills than shown here, firstly because they’ve had a lot of experience, and secondly because seduction is not an association they want popping up with their new mother figure. That is, with their teacher and mentor figure who they have a very professional relationship with, and certainly nothing else.

#I have an…old friend who might have an in with the school AI. Or be inside it, at any rate.

Old friend. Former RA. Illicit paramour. Sworn captain. Have any of those bonds survived Xi's assimilation into the collective intelligence that is DarkBoard? Time to find out.

You sit down in front of the glowing screen "DarkBoard?"

The surface of the portal crackles to life. 

"Xi?"

There's a pause. The voice that answers this time isn't quite the voice of the RA you knew; it sounds like several voices averaged into an unsettling blend. But the expression is unmistakably that of your former RA. 

"Pitiful lump of flesh," says DarkBoard. "Please enter your request."

Look. It might be Scorpius who has the illegal pet now, but I can’t just leave out a scene like this. So either Three is helping zir hide zir illegal pet, or else asking DarkBoard for another favour. It does have to be a favour--as much as they’d like to simply ask DarkBoard, or Xi, how they are, and how they feel about… well, how they feel about anything--DarkBoard is busy, and Three feels they should have a reason for bothering them. 

Being called “Pitiful lump of flesh” continues from last year to have a not entirely unnoticeable effect on their heartbeat, however, and might just be the most comforting phrase they’ve ever heard.

"Three," says that almost-neutral voice. "You have mid-tier administrator access to Our heart. Your secret is safe with Us." You'd wondered if Xi had left behind worldly passions along with their physical body. But evidently something still remains—and it's enough to keep you safe from prying eyes.

Three’s heartbeat continues to react, somewhat. But having mid-tier administrative access to DarkBoard’s heart is a good reason to confirm that their oath of allegiance and service to Xi still applies, and makes them more confident in simply talking to DarkBoard about non-essential affairs. While DarkBoard is Three’s commander, their personal relationship is… not entirely defined. DarkBoard certainly seems to value and care for them, and that is more than Three ever hoped for.

#grand academy for future villains #choice of games #three #marsh ocs #long post #valorous flame #maedryn #sara ulik #xi #darkboard #oh god what was the ship name #Particular Associates in Personal Intimate Experiences

[bioswear]

Shitty game dev experiences

So like, for the past 6 months I’ve been stuck in this horrible student game dev hell that I’ll call “Tex Blechs”. It is a game that was pitched with ZERO substance, and the team who pitched it only liked it because one of the people on that team’s fiancé pitched the title pun (Which is Just Tex Mechs, which also seems mildly racist?) and the stakeholders (aka our professors, aka 3 white men) LOVED the pun, even tho they had no idea what the game was about. They literally said “idk what Tex Mechs is about, but I want to play it.” Like?? No??? Which is red flag #1. So they pick that as one of the three games that was chosen for us to develop.

The game designer for Tex Blechs is the person who pitched the pun, and was also the game designer for our last, cohort-wide student game, which was equally lackluster in quality, overscoped, and lacking in true substance. All of which would be fine I suppose if she didn’t overscope all of her projects, since it’s a student game. So, she has this massive game idea for a project that’s really only meant to be 10-15 minutes of quality, solid gameplay and to this day, it still is not.

Let me say that the original content she wanted was: 2 different levels (a farm and a canyon) with 5 arenas, Left4Dead style, 1 tutorial level, five different weapons, four different kinds of enemies, and an opening cutscene for the game AND an end cutscene. In retrospect, this wouldn’t be a lot for a bigger dev team, but this team has 16 people. We only have three artists total, not including myself and the VFX artist, who is a level designer in the program. That’s a big fuckin order. We have 16 weeks for this game. That is not a lot of time. At all. To model/sculpt, retopologize, UV unwrap and texture, rig and skin, and then optimize a handful of assets to a quality that can be considered “Steam-worthy”. Oh, right, our end goal is to get greenlig for steam publication, which counts as a shipped game for our resume.

The level designers on this team are stressed as fuck. They have had to constantly crunch and remake arenas the entire game, and never have actually had the time to polish the environments as well as they could have because theyre constantly working on refining combat, set-dressing, and other such things. They have been a sprint behind because they had to remake the arenas, which is a canyon environment. (And then the professors/stakeholders complain that it “doesn’t feel like Texas”; what the fuck is Texas supposed to feel like? Texas doesn’t have canyons, Texas is flat as fuck)

I am art lead for this Tex Blechs, and good lord is it a beating everyday. If I were an object, I’d be a piñata. Despite my efforts to try and convince the GD to scope down, each time I’d be met with “well we can just reuse stuff” or “as the game designer, I want this to be in the game” and I’m listened to, but I’m not HEARD. It’s only just RECENTLY, out of 6 months development time, that she’s decided to cut stuff. But all the stuff she’s cut so far, has been things that are already completed, and have been for a few milestones, because they “weren’t working out.” She didn’t even tell the producer she had cut this stuff, and I had to be the one to tell the producer instead, which was a surprise to her.

I have been a really good lead for my artists, and one of the most organized leads during the entire project. This fucker is like “but you’re not doing your job because you’re checked out and frustrated at this game.” Which is a horribly large and inaccurate assumption about me, as I do my job and I do it well to the point that in my peer evals, people have called me “a good lead,” “willing to help her team with extra assets,” “a good advocate for the art team,” etc. So I try to tell him that I can have an opinion but when I’m in the room I’m doing my job with minimal complaint. And this fucker SITS IN OUR ROOM during the workday because so many people have complained about the sloppiness of the game designer and the producer.

Anyway, my artists and I had this big meeting about the scope of the game and the concerns we all shared, which was that there was no feasible way to do everything that was planned. So we have a meeting with the game designer involved, too. And we express our concerns, and frustrations, and need for less content if we want to make a good, polished looking game. And this bitch? She turns it into a sob story about how hard it is to be a game designer and how it’s hard to look at the big picture and that it was never her idea she just had the title, and that she didn’t even know what the game was supposed to be, etc. Meanwhile, none of the artists are feeling sympathy because she never once answered any of our questions, and only turned it into a sob story about how hard her job was. Frustration point #500. This is back in September.

Things still don’t improve until like, a week ago. We have team retros where we go over what went well, wrong, and to do better next time for each milestone.

Every. Fucking. Time. Someone says that the game is still overscoped and that someone or multiple people have crunched because they had to. And still NO CHANGES. No intervention from faculty, who wants to slough off the responsibility that they set us up for failure onto us. NOTHING.

So naturally my artists and I form a solidarity about the shit working conditions and often bitch about stuff, mostly outside of class, where we’re allowed to.

So today one of the bitch ass white men who picked the game pulls me aside and says that I’m being too negative because I often talk about the flaws of the production and development environment, and that it’s affecting the rest of the team, but this is absolutely not true in any way. I try to tell him that it’s not just me, and I’m not the cause of the team wide low morale, and that I’m not their ringleader or telling them how to feel. But he still insists that it must be my negativity, and not the months of constant crunch, overtime, overscoping, disorganization and incompetency of the other two leads that’s obviously the problem. That would be too easy.

He says that, because I’m the lead, that my negative comments are affecting the other artists as if they aren’t grown-ass adults who can formulate thoughts and opinions on their own. He’s treating me like I’m some big bad ringleader and the artists are my lackeys, but really they just hate BULLSHIT, which has been 90% of this games development.

He also has been stalking and monitoring my twitter because the producer on my team is spineless and frail and snitched me out during her production class, and tried to use some of my personal opinion posts against me today, too? Saying that they’ve been making their rounds to the entire team and that it’s hurting my credibility with them, which is also, again, not true, as nobody on my team follows me on Twitter and that a good majority of my team also has the same kind of feelings that I do about the games development shitshow (they are much less verbal during class, much like I am much less verbal about it during class).

Anyway, that’s been my fucking life for the past 6 months.

[noona-clock]

Whatever You Want to Call it - Part 3

Genre: Office!AU

Pairing: Jackson x You

By Admin B

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8

The whole Copy Room Disaster incident really made you stop and think. 

Yes, training Jackson had thrown a wrench in your job responsibilities, of which you now had more than usual since being assigned a project manager. Yes, Jackson was extremely chatty and the most Eager Beaver -- no, actually, the better way to describe him would be as an Eager Puppy. He definitely had a dog-like quality to him because he was hard-working and dedicated and super adorable.

You had never denied the fact Jackson was cute. More than cute, actually. He was downright gorgeous with a body to match. And he had a way of making himself look even cuter when he either was listening intently to you or felt he was in trouble for some reason. So calling him an Eager Puppy was probably the most accurate description in the world.

But anyway.

Yes, training Jackson had been inconvenient. But he was your co-worker, whether you liked it or not. He was a fellow employee, and more importantly, he was a fellow human being. (Although, with his good looks, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually an extraterrestrial being.)

It was really only right that you give him a fair chance. And your boss was right: what did it say about you if you couldn’t handle managing a project and training an employee? It said you valued your own career over someone else’s, and while that might be true, you did still care about your fellow man.

You were ambitious and career-driven not heartless.

So you had spent the past two weeks really and truly training Jackson.

You still found him slightly annoying, but you had to admit: you no longer disliked him. If anything, you were just indifferent. Which was a lot better than disliking him, wouldn’t you say?

I mean, it’s not like you looked forward to seeing him every day, but you didn’t necessarily dread it. And you could tell Jackson was a lot more comfortable, a lot happier. It was obvious you didn’t resent him anymore, so your dynamic was just a lot easier.

All in all, things were pretty okay. Not great but not horrible. And you really couldn’t ask for more at the moment.

Well, things were a bit more than okay now because it was Friday. You loved your job, and you kind of preferred going to work than not going to work, but you did still love the weekend. You enjoyed this small bit of time off even if you were always ready to head back to the office come Monday morning.

As you slung your bag over your shoulder after shutting down your computer, you let out a soft sigh and headed out of your cube toward the elevator. You almost ran into someone as soon as you stepped away from your desk, though, a breathy, startled cry escaping your lips.

“Oops!” Jackson chuckled, stopping suddenly as his hands darted out to steady you. “Sorry.”

“Oh, no worries,” you replied with a little smile.

“Heading out?”

You hummed positively, continuing on toward the elevator when Jackson held an arm out to usher you to go first.

“What are your plans for the weekend?” he asked as he fell into step next to you.

“Oh,” you began, a bit taken off guard by his question. You weren’t sure why but probably because the two of you hadn’t really had many personal conversations before. “Um... Nothing, really. Just relaxing, I guess.”

“Good, you deserve to relax.”

And before you could say anything or ask him why he thought you deserved to relax, he continued on.

“My sister is in town, so she’s bringing my niece over for some quality Uncle Jackson time,” he beamed. “I’ll be busy taking her everywhere and spoiling her and avoiding my sister’s scolding.”

“Sounds fun,” you said with a soft chuckle. But deep down you couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of guilt; he was scolded by his co-worker and his sister.

He was a grown man, though! He could handle it! Stop feeling sorry for him!

When you reached the elevators, Jackson continued on toward the stairwell, lifting up a hand and bidding you a nice weekend.

“You, too,” you replied with a nod, trying to tamp down the shame of taking the elevator. Not that he was judging you, but... I mean, maybe he was. On the inside.

Okay, what was your deal? First, you felt guilty for scolding him. Now, you felt ashamed for taking the elevator?!

Ugh. It was actually ridiculous.

Thankfully, by the time you arrived back at your townhouse about half an hour from the city, you’d completely forgotten about Jackson.

As was your Friday tradition, you placed an order for takeout (Chinese tonight), pulled up a cheesy romantic comedy on Netflix, selected a face mask to use, a new nail polish color, your comfiest pajamas...

You knew how to work hard, so you definitely knew how to relax hard.

But... the thing about relaxing hard... you couldn’t really do it for long. By Saturday afternoon, you were itching to be productive. 

You didn’t have any extra work you’d brought home, so that was out of the question. You definitively were not going into the office on a weekend. 

You’d hired a cleaning lady a few years back, so there was no vacuuming or dusting or scrubbing or anything to do around your place.

What else could you do?

Well, what else did you do when you were out of ideas? You called Jinyoung.

“What’s up?” Jinyoung answered after the second ring. You could always count on him to answer promptly, especially when you really needed to talk to him. It was like he was psychic or something...

“I’m bored, and I don’t know what to do.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how someone can get bored in this day and age. With all the technology we have?! Watch Netflix!”

“I already did last night!”

“What, you watched all of Netflix and can’t watch anything else?” he countered.

“Just talk to me and be a good friend,” you demanded with a roll of your eyes.

“Okay, fine. What’s new in the world of Y/N?”

“Well... not much...” Before you could stop yourself, you brought up your encounter with You Know Who yesterday. “Jackson asked me what my plans were this weekend as we were leaving work.”

“...Okay? So?”

“I mean, don’t you think that’s weird?”

“...No. I don’t think that’s weird, actually. I think it’s very normal.”

“Yeah, but why was he being so nice to me? It’s not like we’re friends.”

“Maybe he was being nice to you because he’s a nice guy. And...”

You paused, waiting for him to finish. But he didn’t.

“And what?” you asked.

“And I think he kinda likes you.”

“What?!” you cried with an astonished laugh. “He does not!”

“How would you know? You’re too busy ignoring him and hating him to notice anything these days.”

“I do not hate him!” you corrected, clearly offended. “I’m just indifferent to him now.”

“Whatever,” Jinyoung chuckled. “My point is, I don’t think he feels the same way.”

“Why did I call you again?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

“Because I’m a good friend, and you constantly need my help and advice --”

“I do not. I don’t need your help, I just like talking to you.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. I forgot you have that weird thing about help.”

“...What weird thing?”

“Never mind. Listen, I’m at the movies with Emily. Can I call you later?”

“Jesus, Jinyoung! If you’re with your girlfriend, you don’t have to answer your phone when I call! Have fun, watch the movie, and don’t even think about Jackson’s feelings for me.”

“I won’t,” he assured you immediately. “And you think of something to keep you busy.”

After you heard the line disconnect, you let out a deep sigh as you set your phone on the kitchen counter. Well, great. That had done nothing but stir up thoughts of Jackson maybe having feelings for you.

Come on, there had to be something productive you could do.

You gazed around your kitchen, lips pursed in thought... when your running shoes sitting by the laundry room door caught your eye.

Aha!

A little exercise never hurt anyone, right?

Since you lived a bit farther out from the city, you weren’t limited to the bustling streets or a crowded gym; in fact, there was a pretty nice park nearby with sprawling lawns, sports fields, playgrounds, and miles of trails for walking and running. The weather was fairly nice outside, if not a bit chilly, so why not?

It only took about ten minutes for you to change into some more appropriate clothes (since pajamas definitely wouldn’t do the job), and then you were off to the park. 

While you wouldn’t necessarily call yourself a frequent runner, you did enjoy the peace and quiet it granted you. It gave you time to think, something you rarely got at work - especially since you’d started training Jackson.

To be fair, though, Jackson was super helpful. And he was learning quickly, as he’d told you at the very beginning. Most likely, you wouldn’t have to train him for much longer. And then you could get back to your condominium project, focus all of your energy on that. Jackson would most likely be on your team, of course, since he now knew the ins and outs of the project from being at your side for the past few weeks, so it’s not like you would really get a break from him, but --

Wait, was that --

...Were you thinking too much about Jackson and were now suddenly seeing visions of him outside of work? Did Jinyoung bringing him up cause some kind of... weird curse or something?

Or...

“Y/N!”

Oh, no. That was definitely Jackson’s voice calling your name, and that was definitely Jackson jogging over toward you with a little girl clinging to his neck.

Seriously? Why would Jackson be at the park by your house with his -- he’d said his niece was coming to visit, right? Yeah, his niece. Definitely his niece.

You plucked one earbud out, plastering on a smile as you slowed to a halt on the running trail. “Jackson,” you greeted breathlessly once he’d arrived close enough. “Hey, small world.”

“I live around here. This park has the best playgrounds, so I wanted to bring Aimee. Oh, this is Aimee, by the way,” he said, smiling at the little girl he was holding and rubbing her back. “Aimee, this is Y/N. We work together.”

The little girl simply buried her face in Jackson’s neck, and he chuckled softly.

“She’s adorable,” you grinned. “You guys having fun?”

“Oh, absolutely. Aimee loves Uncle Jackson, right?” He poked his finger into her side, his eyes lighting up when she giggled. “Right? Who is the best uncle in the world, huh?”

Aimee squirmed away from his tickles, though she still squealed out his name with glee.

Oh, good lord she was cute. It had been a while since you’d been around kids, probably since last Christmas when you’d flown back home to see your family. You had nieces and nephews, too, but you certainly weren’t the Cool Aunt.

...What did that say about you? What did it say that your brother never came to visit you with his kids? That your nieces and nephews never clung to you like Aimee was clinging to Jackson?

“Sorry to bother you,” Jackson said, successfully interrupting your (verging on an existential crisis) thoughts. “Just thought I’d say ‘hello’ real quick, introduce you to my niece. You go on back to running.”

“O--oh, okay,” you stammered. You managed a half-smile before Jackson turned back around, setting Aimee down and immediately running after her, screaming that he was the Tickle Monster coming to get her.

You shook your head before resuming your own run, setting your earbud back in place and trying to let your music drown out your thoughts.

And while you did stop wondering why you weren’t close with your family... you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing over at Jackson and Aimee (and a woman you presumed to be Jackson’s sister). You saw him pushing her on the swings, helping her down the slide, picking her up and carrying her on his shoulders. And then, when she fell and scraped her knee, you saw him carry her to a bench and coddle her.

It was too freaking cute and too freaking unfair.

Unfair because now you found you were barely thinking about anything else. Your mind was filled with thoughts of Jackson and how good he was with his niece and how adorable they were and how adorable he was and how naturally he took care of her and how --

Suddenly, your foot stepped on something - a small rock, it would seem - and it threw you off just enough to send you tumbling to the ground. You felt your ankle twist as you fell, a sharp pain shooting up your calf. You cried out as your arms flew out to break your fall, the cement digging into your palms and knees.

Oh, shit.

Had you really just tripped on a rock because you’d been too distracted thinking about Jackson?!

Part 4

#got7 #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 au #got7 fluff #got7 fanfic #jackson #jackson wang #jackson scenarios #jackson imagines #jackson au #jackson fluff #jackson fanfic #kpop #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #admin b

[ain-t-bovvered]

14x14 Commentary

Special episode where a bunch of tired and caffeinated Europeans ( plus a sleepy American) scream together, and then die and try to get on with their day ( lol AS IF)

Hello and welcome:

@purpleskiesandcherrypies  (Nat)

@dean-winchesters-bacon  (Kat)  good night babe

@waywardbaby  (Zee)

@ain-t-bovvered  (Giulia)

1 2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12  13

Giulia: Splash

14x14 Ouroboros

Zee: Can’t relive this. With Jack

Nat: I cry

Zee&Giu: I believe in us

Nat: Fuck this

Giulia: Ok sam

Zee: I do believe in us

Giulia: I ain’t got enough coffee in my blood

Zee: The end?? How dare he?

AAAND HERE WE ARE

[ Retro French pop music plays ] IS THIS A THING NOW?

Nat: Uhh...Mexico, Ellaaaa

Zee: Giuls, thoughts??

I see no wrongdoing here. The pasta is being dump into the water while it’s boiling. Garlic! YUM. That looks like too much sauce for that much pa- let’s be honest here, once can never be have too much sauce who cares. Ok I see olive oil, yellow bell pepper ( which is the best one ok) , garlic, onions, zucchini, and I think there’s parmigian cheese and *disgusted sound* cilantro, and a body....

Nat: Well, isn't that tasty

Giulia: ...I’M HUNGRY

Zee: Strike that

Nat: Fresh liver

Giulia: THE CILANTRO GUYS ! YUCK

[SIZZLES]

Nat: NO

Oh he’s making like fried liver, that was not cheese but grated bread ok ok I see you THAT LOOKS TASTY( you forgot the flour tho ok)

Nat: I'm more grossed out by the liver than the snake

Zee: Excuse me while I barf

Theeeey’re HEEEEEERE

Nat: Ohhh... babes

Zee: Shut. The. Fuck. Up

Giulia: those look tasty too

Creepy motherfucker , who is weirdly making me tingling with his cooking skill, : time to go Felix.

Giulia&Nat: A SNACK FOR LATER

Giulia: I WISH

Nat: NO How about no, He just left his meal cooking. Could burn the house down

Giulia: yeah real rude. Killing people and burning houses down

Nat: Mmmhh...snack

Giulia: Omg Jack’s plaid coat. Jack has amazing coats game y’all.

Nat: snacks

Zee: Three of them

oh...now they are all 4 of them ?

Nat: all of them,  well, no except one

Zee: Jack is a baby

Dean has a surprisingly soft steps. 

C: Oh no

I know Cass baby, that bitch fucked up a perfectly good pasta that’s what he did.

Giulia: Dean is us

D: Yeah who just let themselves be eaten?

Giulia: I’d let myself be eaten by you 

D: My money is on witchcraft.

R: Och, you, always blaming witches

D: Cause a lot of times is witches

Rowena basically : I was minding my glorious business when you whiny bitches called to beg for my help

D: Well we’ve been chasing this guy for weeks. What’s your point

Nat: Awww...Deano calm yo tits

Nat: Dean tossing things is my kink

Zee: Kinks again Nat?

Nat: Can you blame me? I'm FINE

Giulia: Hello castiel

R: Not enough Pantera posters for one.

Dean looking almost amused

Giulia: Coughing jack is my (1) fear

Jack: I’m fINe , I’M NoT dYinG . 

Nat: yeah, right, Jack

Nat: Dean..please!

R: Darling boy, everything means something.

Giulia: Be a dear and bring the snakeskin

Sam and Rowena research date night

R: You say [high pitched voice] ‘oh it’s just some magic and you think I’d leave it at that?’

Nat: Ahh..Sam puffing his chest

R: I’m more curious about how your brother is managing to keep an archangel locked away inside his mind.

S: Because....he’s Dean [read this as Batman]

Giulia&Zee: Dean is dean

Zee&Giulia: He’s fine

Nat: DEAN IS NOT FINE

Zee: Giuls. Shut up

Giulia: Zee 🖕🏻

DATE NIGHT!!

Look at them HAAAAANDS cradling the mug.

D: You know, I got to say, I got a pretty good feeling about bringing Rowena in on this one. I think her and Sam have a chance of cracking it.

me: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

C: They do have many books.

D: Yes, they do.

Zee: Worried husband

C: Hey Dean...

D: I’m fine....

ok ok ok ...I ADORE this shot! you’ll see this often in my feed , just fyi

C: What you're doing, even just sitting here and having a cup of coffee, is a Herculean feat. I can't imagine the willpower

Giulia: hey dean. Oh how I adore how he talks  

WHAT IS THAT LOOK DEAN

[Jack dying in the bathroom]

Giulia: JACK STOP FUCKING COUGHING

[Jack spitting blood] 

me : *stares in the distance, lost in my ptsd vietnam episode*

Zee: Are you really fine?

Nat: NO OF COURSE HE ISN'T

Cas is like.... DONT U LIE TO ME, i have no right to tell you this because of a recent stupid thing I did but DON’T LIE TO MY FACE

WHAT IS THIS LOOOOOOOOOOOOOK 

Zee: That’s what I’m supposed to say

D: ...That’s what we all say

Dean’s like.... yeah ok he can read right through me.

[ starting operation ‘ let’s lower our walls’ in 3....]

[....2......]

[......1...]

Giulia: Still even more convinced that they will use michael grace on jack

Giulia: Those eye lines are ruining me

D: There's this pounding in my head. It never stops. 

Castiel’s face:

D:  Michael's in there, and he is fighting hard to get out.

D: And I can't let my guard down... not for a second.

Me: I’ll cheer to that bro

C:  Well, that is not sustainable.

Giulia: THIS SHOW IS NOT SUSTAINABLE

D: ....It's on me.

Nat: IT'S NOT FUCKING ON YOU 

C: We are here to help you.

me: *SOBS*

D: I know that, and I appreciate that. I do.

[JACK STILL DYING IN THE BATHROOM]

Nat: fuck this

Zee: That kid is gonna die in the fucking bathroom

Giulia: U FUCKER STOP

Nat: IF... IF.... IF

D: If you don’t ....

THIS LOOKS ARE KILLING ME

D: We still have plan B

Nat: Fuck plan B

Giulia: NO ONE LIKES PLAN B

Zee: Coffin Ocean Done

Nat: NOT even plan B likes Plan B

Jack’s like : yo you finished with the eye fucking and feelings sharing so I don’t feel embarrassed by you two in public? 

Castiel’s like : I’m out with two problematic kids who don’t tell me nothing

Nat: EVERYBODY'S FINE

Dean:

Giulia: We are fiNe

C: Okay, um...these killings -- it seems like there's a ritualistic quality to the crime scenes, right? It's almost liturgical.

Zee: Greek there for ya

Giulia: thank you Mr.Portokalos 

D: Ah yeah. See that one I knew.

Dean...you cute fucker I swear

J: Anyone who could do this is a monster...I mean, even if they're human.

D: Looks like Sam and Rowena have something

Nat: Sam and Rowena have something wink wink

THEY DOOOOO ? (͠≖ ͜ʖ͠≖)

D: This is like an A.V. Club presentation.

Giulia: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH

J: What's an A.V. Club?

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH

C: It's a special group for people who do not play sports.

Giulia: I love the av club, where do I sign in?

Dean points at Cas “He’s the av club” [insert Oprah gif]

Giulia: IM DEAD

also how does Cas knows that? was that included in Metatron’s pop culture packet?

Nat: Of course he'll know

Zee: Jack is precious

R: Excuse me, boys, but this is a bit more pressing than your hilarious banter.

Excuse me Rowena , nothing is more pressing than their hilarious banter

CAS WHAT ARE U DOING , CONTROL YOUR EYEBROW

Giulia: clash of the titans. (Not gonna lie, I almost wrote clash of the tits). Just fyi

Zee&Nat: Of course you did

R: You know about Medusa?.

I’m sorry but....everyone knows about Medusa.  Ok ok this was mainly for the giggles and all because, you bet your ass that Dean would know who the fuck Medusa was, STOP MAKING DEAN THIS DUMB WHEN IT’S NOT REALISTIC.

Giulia: How caffeine is working

Nat: Because why else should the writers write this episode

Nat: Definitely...anything you want. Get on your knee. lol

Giulia: ...ooooh i can smell all the meta from here

Nat: They all gay for dick

Well Nat I guess….I mean... ...well that’s...that’s the goal

Giulia: U would all be gay for them

Nat: you not wrong

Giulia: MMMMMM

Nat: UHHHH FBI FBI

Zee: Fucking hell

Giulia: FBI FBI FBI

Nat&Giula: IS THIS AMUSING TO YOU?

Now turned on and scared Guy : No SIR

Cas: 

yeah that’s right call me Sir

Nat: Psycho penpal

Y’all my psycho text pals tho

Nat: you're not his type

Giulia: BITCH IM EVERYBODY’s TYPE

R:For the record, I don't love being included on his little hit list.

S: Apparently he can’t see angels

J: I’m not an angel

D: Close enough

C: So, if Jack and I approach Noah on our own, we -- we may surprise him.

Giulia: ABORT I DON T LIKE THAT PLAN

Zee: Happily surprised moose

Giulia: i’d get sloppy....( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Zee: I’m here for Sam’s short shirt

I’m here for them short of clothes 

R: I HAVE A PLAN

Giulia: WEE DOGGIE

Nat: OMG

Giulia: IS THAT JACK

Nat: THAT DOG IS SO SMALL IN SAM'S ARM

S: We -- We think he might have eaten something.

R: "We think"? "We think"? He means that it's my fault for not keeping an eye on the poor dear. He thinks that everything is my fault.

S: Can we not fight in front of the vet?

S: I mean, I guess it's not entirely your fault that you looked away!

R: He blames me for everything! I let his mother ride the Jet Ski one time!

WHAT IS THIS? AM I DEAD AND IN FANFIC TROPES PARADISE?

Nat: Wee Jackie Boy

Giulia: I CAN T

Zee: Sam got a dog and it’s his “son”

S: What are you doing?

R: Oh, I mean, I realize it's not...[Deep voice ]...pretending to be the FBI. [Normal voice] But there are other ways of doing things, Samuel. Plus...I thought my performance was quite magnificent.

Giulia: I NEED THOSE TWO TO FUCK 

Zee: The thermometer

Giulia: i bet he liked being a dog 

Giulia: *seeing just now Zee’s thermometer text*  THIS IS HORRIBLE TIMING

Nat: Did Jack just get something in his ass for this

Nat: YES

Zee: SO YES

J: Just wish I could've got it before she took my temperature.

Giulia: ...he took one for the team.

R: Oh, uh, a moment, Samuel. What did you do to that boy?

R: It's volatile magic, powerful, and it's stitched to him like some kind of parasite.I was curious before, but now I am worried, so I'll ask you again, Sam What did you do?

I can’t believe Rowena is lecturing Sam, and being right too

R: using dangerous, mysterious magic, regardless of the cost, that's a very on-brand me thing to do.

Nat: She's still so much shorter than him standing on the curb

Zee: Everyone is shorter than him

R: Of course, Samuel. Until very recently, I was the villain.

So I ordered this SamWitch extra spicy I guess.

Giulia: I REALLY NEED THOSE TWO TO GET IT OUT OF THEIR SYSTEM

Meanwhile scarred Jack :

Nat: That guy is creepy

Giulia: He’s so flamboyant loves every minute of it

Zee: That gorgon is a total bitch

Noah: "Helpless men" -- that's rich. No, I do eat ladies, too, but women have become so cautious lately. Must be all that finally waking up from centuries of misogynistic oppression. Good for them. Bad for you.

Nat: Ok but I like that

D: But if we cut off their head, then is more creatures gonna crawl out?

Ok but ...hey...legit question

....sam...

SAM

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?

knock first , kick doors later

Zee: Enter the angel of the lord

Noah a bit turned on and scared

Nat: does he do anything else

Nat: NO fair

Noah : demi-god actually

Zee: I’m a lover not a fighter

Nat: THEN LOVE HIM

Giulia: I DON'T LIKE THIS STORY

Nat: Slapping

Zee: Oh he didn’t

Nat: NO cas

#mood  #same

Nat: wHAT

Giulia: NO , WHAT

Zee: Real pleasure

Giulia: OH SAMMY IS HANGRY

Zee: Why is he kicking their asses?

Giulia: Stop making him bump his head

Nat: MICHAEL CAN GET OUT

Zee: Fuck yeah

Giulia: YAS JACK BABY

Zee: My baby is hurt

Giulia: ALL MY BABIES ARE HURT

Zee: Swallow Cas

Zee dON’T BE NASTY

Giulia: OH CAS KNOWS

Nat: I can't even see

this is painful 

Zee: Look how precious jack is

Nat: Dean's still too tall for the bed

Giulia: IM ANXIOUS . CAS IS ANGRY

Nat: POOR JACK THO?

Sam asking Rowena what to do is making me weak.

JESUS

Giulia: GOD DAMN IT. I CHOKED . that was scary

Nat: that's what she said

Nat: Cas wants to make up for it

Giulia: THERE ARE TOO MANY THINGS HAPPENING

[VIDEO] because I’m a sucker for these moments and you need to appreciate them more.

Giulia: We do too Jack

Zee: Special humans

Nat: sometimes we forget that too

Zee: Humans burn bright

Giulia: They are still human

Giulia: For a very brief time

Zee: He have to carry on

Nat: WE WILL NOT CARRY ON

Giulia: DAMN CAS

Nat: wHAT'S THE POINT

Nat: Jack has it right

Giulia: JACK IS RIGHT

Zee: It will hurt

Nat: Stop talking like that CAs

This scene is one of the best one , I can’t 

Nat: CASSSSSSSSS

Zee: Can Cas shut up already?

Giulia: IM CRYING

Giulia: MY GOD CAS

Nat: Jack calm yo tits

Giulia: JACK STOP SPIRALLING

Giulia: He s keeping the snake . LUCIFER SON IS KEEPING THE SNAKE. I DON T LIKE IT

OH....SOMEONE IS AWAKE

Nat: NO . WHAT STOP

Giulia: what is th

Zee: He woke up alright

 I KNOW WHERE I AM

Giulia: The screaming

Zee: He out

Nat: He's gone?

Giulia: OH NO. I DON T TRUST IT

Nat: NO

Giulia: DEAN DON’T PANIC

Giulia: OH SHIT

Nat: WHAT IS GOING ON

Giulia: OH FUCK

Nat: WELP MAGGIE IS GONE

Giulia: FUCK

Nat: WHAT THE FUCK

Giulia: DEAN BREATHE

Zee: Shut the fuck up

Nat: SHIT

Giulia: OH SHIT

Nat: DO YOU STILL WANT THEM TO BONE?

Nat: Michael!Rowena x Sam

Giulia: NOT NOW NAT!

Nat: SHUT UP NAT

Giulia: SHUT UP NAT .i can t watch this

Nat: Always taunting him. "come on sam, you can go harder than that, boy" .OH GOD SHUT UP NAT

Nat: FUCK YOU MICHAEL I HATE HIM SO MUCH

Zee: I fucking love him

M: It didn’t work out. It was him, not me.

Michael making promises.....DOESN’T WORK.

R: I’ll live either way

Zee: Sam is gonna off me

R: ..which makes dinner a little awkard

Giulia: GUYS I CAN T WATCH THIS

Nat: Fuck this

Nat: I'M HURT

Giulia: IM HURTING

Nat: how can americans watch it with commercial breaks?

M: Burning off your soul? You'll run out soon enough.

Giulia: i have no idea what to do

Giulia: How dare u

M: I am the commander of the host!   I am the cleanser of worlds!  I will not be challenged by a child!

You are a drama queen , that’s what you are

Nat: Of course

J: I'm not a child! I'm the son of Lucifer. I'm a Hunter. I am a Winchester!

Giulia: JACK

Zee&Nat: I am a Winchester

Nat: OH did he just swallowed Michael's grace

nat doN’T BE NASTY

Giulia: JACK IS GOING IN THAT BOX JACK IS SO GOING IN THAT BOX

J: Michael is dead

I don’t trust it

Nat: OH WINGS

Nat: I'm confused

Giulia: I DON T LIKE THIS

[after credits comments]

Giulia: PROMO. NOW

Giulia: AHAHAHA

Zee: What??!!

Giulia: NEXT EP IS GONNA BE FUN

Nat: I'm confused

Nat: Someone hold me

Zee: There there pats your back

Giulia: WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT EP. IT JUST HURT ALL THE TIME .i’m sweating

Nat: I have no idea and I didn't like it

Zee: Hello. Are you new to SPN ?

Nat: What Michael is dead? Are we supposed to believe that?

Zee: No

Giulia: Jack worries me tho. And ya know the last ep of the season is called “Jack in the box”

Zee: Don’t go there

Giulia: How I cannot

Zee: Don’t know. Just don’t

Giulia: FUCK EVERYTHING THAT WAS A ROLLERCOASTER AND IM STILL ON IT

Zee: You’ll never get off

Giulia: That what he said

Zee: Stop it

Giulia: Fuck u all

And fuck spn

And dean

And sam

And cas

And fucking jack

I can t

*throw tables out the window*

.

.

.

If you want to get tagged in the future ones send an ask HERE or to @waywardbaby or a smoke signal, idk whatever I’m tired af.

TAGS: @wayward-angelgirl @destiel-honeypie     @mariekoukie6661     @dragontamerm      @closetspngirl   @rainflowermoon    @mattiecat      @bunnybaby121115  @aliaitee2   @jacks-word-of-the-day    @4evamc      @dammitsammy    @legendary-destiel  @winchesterprincessbride   @destielhoneybee   @castiellover20  @jacks-word-of-the-day @ravenhg @evvvissticante 

#14x14 #14x14 spn commentary #14x14 supernatural #14x14 ouroboros #spn 14x14 gifs #Episode commentary #spn episode commentary #spn commentary

[theministerskat]

Kat’s Thoughts on “Down The Rabbit Hole”

Roger Rating: 🧔🏻🧔🏻🧔🏻🧔🏻/5

Badass Bree: 👩🏻‍🦰👩🏻‍🦰👩🏻‍🦰/5

After watching this episode several times, I finally feel like I have my thoughts in order to share them with you all.

I’ll start off by saying I was very excited going into episode 7, mainly for the fact that it was apparent we would be getting much of Roger and Bree’s story. I squealed with delight watching it the first time at midnight on Sunday. However, once I finished the episode I was left with very mixed feelings.

I’ll break it down bit by bit under the cut . . .

Bree Goes Munro Bagging

Seeing the Scottish Highlands on screen again was absolutely wonderful. I loved watching Bree navigate these hills where we know Jamie and Claire were during their early time together. I understand the need for Bree’s sprained ankle - to slow her down a bit in the vicinity of Lallybroch - and the parallel to Claire rolling down a hill herself after coming through the stones is perfection. However, I could have used about five minutes less of her wandering on the road alone.*

Bree at Balriggan . . . and Laoghaire

The show really surprised me with this divergence from the book. I think I understand what they were trying to do here - show Laoghaire as a caring mother who is a multifaceted character with some redeeming qualities - but it honestly didn’t work for me. I’m usually one to try to be empathetic and dissect every aspect of a character to understand what motivates him or her, but I don’t think the writers have given me enough, or any, recompense for Laoghaire’s actions in the show. (The book is a different story in my opinion because I have accepted @betweensceneswriter’s Second Wife as canon and I can empathize with that Laoghaire.)

Of course, Laoghaire turns on Bree the moment she realizes she is Claire’s daughter. She successfully plants a seed of doubt in Bree’s mind about Jamie and shows us just how vengeful she can still be. In the books, there really isn’t a worry in Bree’s mind about Jamie accepting her, and I don’t think this addition is necessary. There is enough tension surrounding their eventual meeting that this additional element seems like the writers piling on just a little too much.

I can appreciate the parallel the show has drawn between Bree and Joanie and the sweet moments between the two of them. They are both daughters who have witnessed their parents’ marriages crumble, and Bree setting an example for Joanie is wonderful. My heart swelled when Bree acknowledged Roger with her “good men” comment and I love that “San Francisco” is now canon as Claire’s favorite song. 

But overall I don’t believe the length of time spent on this plot line was worth it. There are many other things that I think could have been included from the book that would have really set Bree’s storyline moving forward.*

Bree at Lallybroch and Ian

I will forever lament the fact that Laura was unavailable to film for this episode.

That being said, I think the moments we did get with Bree and Ian at Lallybroch and on the docks were very touching. I love Cree’s portrayal of Ian and his small facial expressions when looking at Bree, his best friend’s daughter, are everything.

I do wish the writers would have included a bit more from the book here, especially Ian comforting Bree about Jamie and Claire’s relationship and just how much love is shared between them. An addition of that sort would have evened out the horrible things Laoghaire said to her.

Bree and Frank

I really liked that they incorporated Bree’s memories of Frank into this episode. Frank is the only father Brianna has known her entire life, and as she embarks on this journey to find Claire and Jamie it is obvious she would be thinking of him. 

In the books, we get several moments where Bree talks to Roger about her reservations about looking for Jamie and Claire in the past because of Frank, so this was a good replacement for that.

The one qualm I had was Frank specifically finding the death notice. I think this unnecessarily makes him even more of a villain. I would have been happy if he would have found the same information Roger did - the land grant and a letter naming Claire.

Bree seeing Frank on the dock as she’s about to leave Scotland had me close to tears. Even though he’s a figment of Bree’s imagination, him sending her off and ultimately giving her his blessing worked amazingly well for me.

Roger Does Exactly What Bree Asked Him Not To Do

I really have no complaints or things I would like to have seen done differently for the Roger parts of the episode. I loved his farewell to Fiona plain and simple.

The events on the Gloriana are very much from the book, and it was really hard for me to watch as Bonnet pushed the girl overboard. We also get Morag and Jemmy, which sets the course for Roger and his future plot lines as someone who cares for others no matter the risks for him.

I do wish they would have snuck in Roger making the call of tails for his own life after Bonnet discovers Morag, but that’s an itty bitty detail.

Some quick favorite things of mine from this episode:

Bree’s very apparent curly hair and Roger’s wee ponytail!

Bree has Ellen’s eyes and she’s finally wearing the fur coat!

Sophie and Richard both knocked this episode out of the park! They have completely become Bree and Roger for me and I am so happy about it.

*What I would have changed up or added . . .

I would have had . . . wait for it . . . Mary McNab find Bree cold and injured in the woods instead of Laoghaire. She could have brought Bree back to her own cottage and nursed her back to health. Then Ian could have come asking for Mary to come to the house because Jenny had to leave. Revealing who Bree is could have worked well here. Then Laoghaire could have come to Lallybroch and demanded the money and that confrontation could have followed the book rather closely. Ian would be able to tell Brianna all the great things about Jamie and Claire in their way to the harbor and all would be well.

I also would have thrown in flashbacks to Bree finding the death notice herself, preparing to go through the stones, and a discussion with Gayle vocalizing her feelings for Roger. Since episode 4, I have thoughts we’d get these moments, but here we are going into episode 8 and we’ve gotten nothing. Time to write some fanfiction of these moments give this wish up.

In conclusion, I can’t say I really loved or really hated the episode, but it’ll be included among the episodes I rewatch regularly for the mere fact that it’s completely Roger and Bree.

As always, I would love to hear input from all of you. Am I completely off base? Do you agree? Did I misinterpret something? My only request is that you be respectful of myself and others.

#outlander #outlander season 4 #roger mackenzie #brianna mackenzie #richard rankin #sophie skelton #roger x brianna #themackenziesarehere #show talk #s4e07

[dorkyungsoowrites]

Ambivalence Ch. 3

Pairings: Kyungsoo x You

Genre: Smut/Angst | Room No.7 AU

Warnings: Dom/Sub play, breathplay

Word Count: 4.7k

Description: It's really just mostly smut.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | The Ending |

The next night not many words were exchanged. You came an hour before closing. The place would be deserted, no one new would come because there wasn't time to see an entire movie, and if you were quick you could leave before his boss even knew you were there. When you entered the shop Taejung silently locked the front and lead you to one of the viewing rooms. You closed the door behind you and leaned back on it while you raked your gaze up his form luridly. You weren't expecting much. He certainly didn't have conventional charm or grace, but he was handsome and earnest and easy. What really put it over the top, however, was the fact he was very, very vocal about how much he wanted and enjoyed you. Well, your body, but you didn't care about semantics. Everyone wants to feel desired. If this was how you two would find that then you didn't see the problem. It didn't matter he wouldn't care past the high because neither would you. You were both here to take from each other, and that's all there was to it. Besides, from the looks of it you both really needed a good fuck.

"How long has it been since you fucked someone?"

"Long enough," he answered.

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"It means if you don't strip right now I'll do it for you, and I won't let you cum."

"Confident much?" You listened anyway, jacket falling from your shoulders. He followed after you, shirt being tossed to the side. When his jeans joined yours on the floor you stepped closer. Fingertips light on his sides moving downward. Taejung watched with anticipation as you pushed his boxers around his ankles. You took a moment to admire his slim frame. Quickly taking in the other tattoos his clothes had hidden before. The words you couldn't read down his side opposite his neck tattoo. The elegant lines with a smattering of tiny stars following the curve of one hip towards his lower stomach. Accentuating how perfectly he was shaped. The half sleeve that had yet to be finished. Only outlines and one partially colored flower on the skin so far. Your eyes hesitated moving on from it. The seemingly meaningless swirls and patterns and dots staying your gaze half a second longer. Whoever did his tattoos was a true artist, you thought. It was no wonder why it was unfinished. By the slight fade, probably for years. There was no way this dump paid enough to fund his school and that type of quality ink. The design was gorgeous and purposeful.

He was doing the same as you, taking in the various tattoos on your body. The one that spiraled up your leg; blooming into a picture on your outer thigh. The colored one over your hip. The small ones on your ribs. Then the more intricate wrap-around on your shoulder opposite of the hip one that continued out of sight on your back. A fire lit behind his eyes. He licked his lips before pulling you against him, mouth attacking your neck. His hands made quick work of your underwear and bra. Teeth bit hard on your collarbone, making you moan quietly. He filled one of his hands with your ass. The other cupped your breast and rolled your nipple between his fingers. Lips moving to your neck. You gasped, hands coming up to scrape at his scalp and the middle of his back.

"Admit how much you want me," he spoke huskily. "You loved my cock so much you couldn't wait to have it inside you." His left hand glided down your front, two fingers dipping between your thighs and tracing your center. You raised up on your toes slightly without meaning to. The sudden jolt of stimulation surprising for being barely anything. "Come on, we don't have all night and I can feel how wet you are already." 

You sighed begrudgingly. Attempting to mask it by adding a soft whimper at the end. Forcing the words if it meant he would start already. "I want you. I can't wait any longer." 

Taejung twirled you around. Practically shoving. Then giving commands to you. The endearment he tacked onto the end dripping out of his mouth in disdain.

"Hands and knees, princess." 

You crawled on to the edge of the settee in the room. He made you wait while he fished out a condom from his pants and rolled it on. Hands grabbed your hips firmly. 

"Say please," he ordered in a low growl.

"Please," you whispered back defeatedly. His hips snapped forward, thrusting his entire length inside you. You choked back your cry of surprise in a gasp. Taejung moaned and sat still while you adjusted.

"Your cunt does feel heavenly," he confirmed. "You're so tight and wet for me. Perfectly fuckable. If only you didn't have that horrible attitude."

"And I'm the bitch?" Taejung pulled almost completely out. His reply was punctuated by slamming back to the hilt.

"Yes, you are." He set a merciless rhythm, pounding into you and twisting the coil in your gut tighter. You hated him, but dammit he was a good fuck. You matched his pace as best you could, bracing one hand on the wall so your head didn't hit. Every thrust inside of you sent shocks up your body. Hitting deep and hard and fuck you were losing your mind. Moaning wantonly with pleasure as his cock filled you over and over and over. Carnal and emotionless, and the man behind you was enraptured with the view you provided.

"Does that feel good, Tae?" you asked over your shoulder teasingly.

"Filthy fucking whore," he panted hotly. Your hair was pulled to force an arch in your back, his hand fisting painfully near your scalp. You called out as he hit just the right spot, making you clench around him. He groaned loudly. "This is all you're good for."

"You feel amazing," you moaned.

"Shut your fucking mouth. You're nothing when I'm fucking you, got it? Nothing but a faceless fucking slut who loves my cock. Shit, I love how your pussy feels around me." An echoing smack hit your ears and your ass stung. You bit your lip to keep silent. He repeated it harder. Making you flinch. A rush of arousal spreading as the pain amplified. "Yes, god, look at how fucking beautiful you are, princess. That ass and those tits, and this dripping pussy. It's fucking art."

"I-I'm gonna to cum," you warned weakly. Whining in the back of your throat.

"Not yet. I'll tell you when you can cum," he replied angrily. Taejung's palm came down on your ass one more time then dug his fingers in roughly. His hips slowed abruptly and you whimpered. "Move forward so I can get behind you." 

You shifted towards the wall, and he followed you, resting his knees between yours. He forced your posture to change again. Not fully sitting up. Angled partially for the smoothest motion. Hand leaving your hair to circle the base of your throat. His other hand came up to grab your breast as he continued his earlier pace. The new angle was slightly uncomfortable, but it felt like he was stretching you even further. Bouncing up and down to match his tempo. Driving him to further his efforts upon seeing how eager you were. Taejung added pressure to your throat and you struggled to gasp in air. The fact you hadn't discussed a safe way to stop if it became too much was frightening, but after a few seconds you realized you didn't care. It was thrilling. His body pressed along your back. Holding you. You knew you were safe. You knew he would treat you exactly as you needed. So you let go. 

He growled beside your ear, breath fanning across your neck and shoulder. "Just like that," he encouraged. He choked you, almost painfully, and your eyes closed. "The harder I squeeze the tighter your cunt gets around my cock. You're fucking shaking. Yes." His voice grew louder as black circled your vision. His hips sped up, losing rhythm with you. Sloppy and desperate. "Oh fuck yes. Cum on my cock. Come on princess. Take it all like the disgusting fucking whore you are." Suddenly his hand let up and oxygen flooded your brain as you took in large gulps of air. Your high crashed through you, spasming and quaking around him. You put your forehead to the wall to ground yourself as the pleasure tossed you around in the waves. He followed after you, hips stuttering and slowing inside you. A string of curses and heavy sighs passed his lips. After a minute to recover your breathing Taejung caressed your sides and back gently. You shivered under the light touch. 

"I needed that," he groaned. "That was amazing. You're amazing."

"Thanks. You, too." 

He chuckled. "Ready to move?"

"Never." You wriggled your hips, eliciting a broken moan from the man behind you as his cock twitched. 

He gave your ass a playful hit. "Get off my cock, princess."

"Not until you ask nicely."

"Seriously?" 

You rolled your eyes. "Well if you're just gonna be an asshole about i--"

"Please...I want to kiss you."

That was...not an addition you thought he would make. Heart doing a funny flip in your chest. You did what he said and turned around. Arms going around his neck, you pulled him into a long, lazy kiss. He returned it gladly, hands splaying on your back to hold you firmly against his chest. You pulled away first.

"Stay here while I get a way to clean you up." 

You nodded, and he stood. Taejung tied off the condom before getting dressed and leaving. He returned a minute later with a damp rag and gingerly wiped the sweat and slick from your body then helped you get dressed as well. 

"You okay?"

"Like you care," you scoffed. "I'm just some nameless slut to you."

"I made you feel good, too. I'm not some selfish asshole." 

You combed through your hair and chuckled. "Learn to take a joke, Tae. I had fun."

"You are so confusing."

"You get aroused by motorcycles," you countered.

"It wasn't the bike. It was how sexy you were riding it."

"Need a ride home?" 

He froze momentarily, annoyance seeping away. "Sure."

"Maybe next time you'll let me ride you." Implying that this would happen again. That earned you an amused smile. It was the first time you'd seen him happy. It warmed your heart as he walked with you out to the entrance of the store. "You know, if you were like this more often I probably wouldn't hate you."

"Same. You're not totally intolerable right now."

"I'll be waiting outside. Come find me when you're done closing up."

"I might take a while." 

You shrugged. "Got nowhere better to be." 

Taejung hesitated in his movements. Eyeing you curiously. Like he wasn't sure how much he should read into that statement. Into you. And he began to smile as he turned away behind the counter. Trying to hide his reaction. But you saw the slight curve to the corner of his lips. Maybe--just maybe--he didn't hate your guts. Or maybe it was post-coital bliss. You'd never know.

After a moment you unlocked the door and left. Waiting outside while he finished closing duties. When he came out he immediately put a cigarette between his lips and lit it while strolling over to your side. He took one drag and held it towards you expectantly while tucking his lighter away. You mentally said 'fuck it' and copied what he did; putting your lips around the thin paper, inhaling deeply. It tasted like tobacco and menthol. Filling your chest. Your lips stuck to the paper partially while letting go, having sapped some of the moisture away. So you ran your tongue over them. Taejung stared at you strangely. The cigarette hadn't left his hand. You had simply leaned forward. You smiled at his cute expression and blew the smoke into his face. Expelling the weight from your lungs. He brought it to his mouth again slowly, never breaking away from your gaze. A curiosity he wanted to test behind his eyes. 

The tip glowed orange. His rich brown eyes softened. A few bits of ash fluttered to the pavement. His free hand went to the back of your neck, and he pulled you close. Plush lips grazed yours. You parted your own and he exhaled. Swirls of white drifted between your faces and into your mouth. It was bitter, but you weren't annoyed with it like before. Watching as the thin cloud between you hazed and drifted up. Seeing those eyes of his that were normally blank or cold fixated on you. Longing and warm. Seducing you into wanting more. Without moving away he inserted the end of his cigarette to the very corner of his mouth and took a long drag. The tobacco hissing and crackling as the embers burned in the silence. When he lowered it he kissed you properly. Tobacco and menthol covered all of your senses as his mouth synced with yours. Slow and bordering on unsure. Sharing the smoke and the chemicals. A quiet moan escaped him. Humming against your lips. Taejung broke away, cheeks flushed, and ran his tongue across his lips.

"I am so turned on by you right now," he said quietly.

"Yeah, that was oddly..."

"Sexy," he finished with a nod. "Yeah. Do it again with me." The cigarette was brought to your lips. The tip glowed. Taejung kissed you; fiercer that time. His tongue reached out for yours and you responded in kind. Hands clutching his jacket to pull him closer. Rough and pressing further into his warmth. He was turning frenzied, whispering against your mouth. "I need you." 

Once the puffs of smoke dissipated you pulled away and gestured to your motorcycle. "Get on." 

Taejung tossed the half finished cigarette to the sidewalk and stepped on it to smother the embers. He didn't shy away from wrapping his arms around your torso that time. You gave him the helmet and he gave directions in your ear while you drove. On the straightaways you could feel his hips canting forward into you. His cock straining against his jeans. His fingers attempting to pull you back into him while he used the vibrations the engine created on the seat and your backside to fuel his arousal. Barely any movement, but the desperation in the act made you want him more and more. Small, needy moans catching in his throat. You suspected you were only hearing about half of them. The street noise and engine drowning out the quieter sounds. It wasn't until you stopped at a red light that he really made it obvious. Kissing the side of your neck and talking next to your ear.

"If I wasn't scared we'd crash I'd be fucking you so hard right now. I'd use my fingers first. Then I'd make you park and bend you over the handlebars. It would feel so good with the vibration under us. Doesn't that sound good princess?" One of Taejung's hands slid lower to cup you over your jeans. Pushing his arousal harder against your backside. It must have hurt him a little considering he was rubbing his dick on denim so roughly, but he didn't seem to care. Craving that terribly lovely friction. "Don't you want to make a pretty mess all over the seat with me? Fuck I bet you're so wet right now, you fucking cock whore." 

The light flickered to green. Instead of answering you sped up and took the next turn extra sharp. Making Taejung cling to your waist in fear and amusing yourself.

His apartment was only a few blocks away from the campus. Taejung rushed to the entrance of the building, helmet hanging from his fingertips. Not so subtly adjusting himself in his pants so he could walk comfortably. Laughing to yourself at the obvious strain on his jeans. You followed him up a few flights of stairs and into a tiny apartment. Obviously shared with at least two other people. Clothes and take-out containers were littered everywhere, and the whole place smelled like his cigarettes. Taejung brought you into a small bedroom and dropped his backpack and your helmet to the floor before throwing his jacket and shirt off his body. You mimicked him, moving towards his bed against the wall. It wasn't long before he was laying on the mattress completely nude with you straddling him in the same state. His mouth went to your neck to nip and lick, hands roaming to feel your softness.

"Tae," you moaned softly. He bit down harder, leaving a mark. "Where's a condom?"

"Shit," he hissed, head hitting the sheets. "Um, bottom right drawer. Desk. Over there." He pointed across the room. You went to retrieve one and rejoined him on the bed, rolling on the thin latex. The frenzy broken, you moved slower to align him with your entrance and sink down. His eyes fluttered closed. Chin tipped up to give you the loveliest view. You supported yourself on his chest, raised up then went down normally, his hands going to your ass while your hips worked him. He thrust up in time with you, driving himself deeper. His voice getting darker and abrasive. "That's it. Show me how well you ride me. You're so perfect." 

You decided to bend over and kiss along the column of his throat. The angle change was exactly what you needed. Pleasure blooming up to your chest. His hands became restless, running over your back, your sides, kneading your breasts. He left trails of fire wherever he touched.

"Tae," you cooed.

"Yes?" He struggled to keep his breathing from shaking. 

Your purr morphed into a moan. "Oh fuck. Tae." 

In turn his question morphed into an exclamation, groaning a drawn out, "Yes." 

You continued to journey your lips over his collarbone and back up to his jaw. 

"Dammit. Dammit," he chanted. "Fuck me harder."

"I don't want this to be over yet," you answered. "Your cock feels too good inside me. I want to fuck you for hours."

"I don't think I have the patience."

"I'll make you have the patience." 

He moaned loudly at your response and brought your head up to frame your upper lip with both of his. You stayed until you couldn't breathe and gasped for air. Taejung was looking up at you with hooded, smoldering eyes.

"I hate you so fucking much." 

You couldn't stop your smile. "I hate you more." 

With shocking strength, Taejung anchored you to his chest, arms around your middle, halting your movements. He kissed you languidly, drawing you in closer. He rotated his hips to grind into you, pulling a whimper from your throat.

"You like that, princess?" he taunted. You nodded. "You like how my cock fills you up?" Another nod. You tried rolling your hips forward, and the angle added friction to your clit, moaning his name. "You're so beautiful writhing around on top of me. My own little cock whore. I'm gonna make you my plaything. Would you like that?"

"I'll do anything you want," you answered breathlessly. "Just keep fucking me. Please." 

He left a fleeting kiss on your lips and caught your gaze. "Hey, look at me." 

You forced your eyes to focus. 

"If you decide you want to stop the safeword is mercy, okay?" 

You nodded. 

"Repeat it to me."

"The safeword is mercy. I understand," you spat out quickly. The fire in his eyes changed, and suddenly you were on your back. Sheets tangled around you. Taejung sat up and pushed your knees apart, eyes devouring you.

"I'm going to fucking ruin you, princess."

"Stop calling me princess," you sighed, exasperated. "It's not sexy." One of his hands jumped to your throat. He didn't press hard; just enough to threaten. Then he growled, the sound vibrating in his chest.

"I'll call you whatever I want. If I decide to address you as my cocksucking bitch you'll answer to it. Got it?" 

You relaxed and raised your hands above your head, bunching his sheets in fists. You could be submissive if that's what he wanted. Nothing was keeping you from seeing how far he could go. Exploring was fun, and what's life without a little fun? You dropped your voice to come off more coquettish.

"Do you prefer master, or daddy?"

"I prefer you shut your dumb mouth unless I tell you to speak," he bit back. Taejung gyrated his hips, teasing your inner walls with barely any friction. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip. "Tonight you're here to please me. You're nothing but a cock-worshiping cunt. Now tell me how much you love fucking me."

"I do," you answered. "I love being fucked by you. You're rough and sexy. And you were right on my bike earlier; I was wet thinking about you fucking me over the handlebars." Taejung's fingers fell from your throat, trailing down with a feather light touch, making goosebumps rise in their wake. Your breath catching despite not be restricted anymore. You wanted him. You wanted to be sore when tonight was over. His cock just sitting inside of you wasn't enough. You wanted to scream. And he wanted a whore. To be in control. You could put on a few extra words so you both got what you wanted. "I'd let you fuck me anywhere and however you wanted. I'm a pathetic slut around you. I hate you, but I love how you use me."

"That was pathetic," he remarked in a dangerous tone. "I can't believe how badly I want to fuck something so shameless, but dammit do I love the idea of using you. Would you like that? To become mine?"

"Yes, please."

"Are you sure? You'll be mine to toy with whenever and however I please. You'll become my little pet. My whore."

"Yes, I'm sure. Only yours."

"Now say another word and I'll make sure you regret it." Taejung looked to where your bodies joined, grabbed your hips, and began rocking his length in and out of you. It was steady and slow to build. You could feel every inch of him as his dick was enveloped in your tight heat over and over again. You were on total display for him. Vulnerable and sweaty and open. It was hot and intimate, and so completely real. Matching him time and time again. Pleasure coursed through your veins and made you feel alive. Taejung's breathing grew more labored, and you held back a smile while watching him. Seeing the gratification on his face because of you. Because of how you felt and made him feel. Spreading his knees wider. Which made his strokes smoother and the roll to his hips more sensual. 

"I wish you could see what I'm seeing right now, pet. You have the most beautiful pussy. It fits my cock so perfectly. Like you were made for me. Ah fuck..." His jaw slacked, struggling to hold his eyes open. 

Seeing him so close spiked your high up closer to your head. You arched your back slightly as you slid a hand down from his sheets. Filling your palm with your breast. Touching and pinching. Putting on a show as you moaned for him. His mouth quirked into a roguish smirk at the sight. The hand that was on your throat moved. His thumb lightly circling your clit, and you gasped at the rush. His voice finding your ears soon after. 

"Let me see my pretty little whores face while she cums for me. Come on princess. Cum around my cock." The pressure built higher, body tensing. The hand on yourself refused to work for you properly. All you could seem to do was scratch yourself as it darted back to his sheets and fisted them tightly. Breath coming in shallow gulps. Focusing on the pressure filling you up. Taejung's thrusts steadily becoming harder and faster until a few moments later. You arched off the bed as the coil sprung loose. Taejung chasing his own end while you crumbled around him. He cursed under his breath. His hands leapt to your thighs, pushing your knees towards your chest. Your legs draped over his shoulders instinctually when he leaned over. Ankles crossed, heels digging into his back, unable to stop your muscles from flexing and clenching. His hands holding himself up beside you.

The room filled with heavy pants and slapping skin and incoherent mewls. The oversensitivity was making your thighs cramp up as Taejung kept fucking you hard and fast. Sweat glossed his skin. Primarily around his neck and chest. A second orgasm was quickly rising in you. Filling up inside of you higher and higher until you thought you couldn't take anymore without the pressure bursting, and it continuing to do so anyway the more he pushed inside of you. Stealing any coherent thoughts from your mind. You grappled at the sheets wildly, head thrown back. His lower abdominal muscles were flexing and tensing as his grunts and moans grew more frequent. Then he forced another high from you, every bit of you shaking as the satisfaction coursed through you. Letting go of that pressure as your voice whined and moaned. It finally triggered his release, one winded, broken groan falling past his lips as his hips stuttered. He thrust a few more times in uneven, jerky movements before stilling inside you. It wasn't the prettiest or most graceful, but you weren't filming a porno. It just needed to feel good, and damn did it feel good to have the man with the usually cold expressions reduced to a fucked out heap. Panting and peaceful. Because of you. 

Taejung sat like that until he caught his breath, and pulled carefully out of you. He allowed your legs to drop, falling limp on his mattress in a sprawled out, sweaty heap while he stood. You steadied your own breathing and stretched while he disposed of the used condom. Taejung wiped the sweat from his forehead, pushing his hair messily to the side, and sat on the edge of his mattress.

"You're staying the night." It wasn't a question. He was telling you. "Don't bother cleaning up. I'm not done with you. Shit, that was good. You're good at following orders for being such a princess. I'm going to have so much fun playing with you." 

If you thought about it, despite the fact he'd sprinkle in demeaning names, he praised you a lot for someone who claimed he doesn't care. Far more than typical one-night flings. It was a nice change, but one that made you wary. You pushed yourself to sit up. Going to your knees behind him, you began running your hands down his slim waist, peppering lingering kisses to his shoulders and the back of his neck. 

He moaned softly. "You're such a talented little whore." He let you continue petting him, feeling his smooth skin, for several minutes. Pampering him with affection it seemed neither of you were used to getting. You weren't certain you would listen to his last order, however. Mumbling,

"You don't want me to stay."

"Then how come I said it?"

"Because you're an idiot." He huffed out a weak laugh and you moved your mouth close to his ear to whisper, a palm smoothing down his chest. "And handsome idiots shouldn't hang around me."

"Why's that?"

"You won't survive."

"Because you're so dangerous?" he mocked.

"Exactly." You kissed his neck one more time right over the ink there before slipping off the bed. His eyes following you curiously. You only smirked. He wasn't going to give up that easily. His gaze alone gave away how he still desired you. Lingering on your curves. Ready to delve deeper into the unknown mistake he made by being with you even this long. Though he said he was going to ruin you, you were afraid it might be the other way around. Though in a slightly different sense. He was a student struggling to make ends meet working a shitty job. He probably had debts to pay off. You would only bring him trouble. Trouble he didn't need. It would be kinder to leave. It really would.

Then he held out his hand.

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