#there are actually people selling those papers where i live weekly...

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH.2

Getting back to your little one story cottage, you can only manage to rush in and run about in a mad dash as you try to accomplish getting ready for work and getting something to eat. Running through choices in your head as you change and freshen up, nothing sounds good. There's not much time since your shift starts at nine and to make it to the store you need to leave by eight twenty. You got home at eight fifteen, and while Nate, your manager, has never seemed to give a fuck what you did at work you're still in your probationary period and would like to keep the easiest job you've ever had.

It's a really simple gig, seeing as the store you work at is actually a front for some illegal activity. The variety of crime you aren't sure of, but you are aware there's no way you guys do no business and yet they can afford to pay thirty dollars an hour. Thankfully just keeping your mouth shut and being nice to little Jo, the owner's daughter, is enough to keep you in the cushiest job in the world. The store's front is a regular old book store, all the books are real, the registers work, you're able to sell books and you've run to the bank to do the weekly deposits twice for Book & Nook. The front is very legitimate or it would be if the amount of customers ever equaled the sales made.

Again you don't ask questions, because for thirty dollars an hour you get to goof off for a couple hours a day, plus you get a bonus when you watch little Jo at the shop. She's a real sweet eleven year old, she's got tourettes and took a shine to you the first time she saw you tic. While you both might not suffer the same disorder she finds the common ground nice, like it's not just her. It's not even hard to watch her or enjoy her company, she'll come bouncing in with her excited chittering and hands clapping spilling all the latest gossip that comes with being in middle school. And boy is there a lot of gossip.

It's really nice seeing that Jo has friends at school and is even considered a “popular” kid. You remember how tough school was because no one understood you and teachers never cared enough about your personality to bring up the fact that it was clear to most faculty members that you had Autism. You excelled academically so what did it matter if you got picked on for oversharing information or for finishing assignments the minute they were handed to you. As bittersweet as the parallels are you're so glad Jo doesn't have to go through that. Never would have thought a southern school could be so accepting, much less a middle school at that.

Tearing through the kitchen you honestly can't find anything that you want to eat right now. And even after a long night of hiking/dissociating you don't think you're that peckish at all. Figuring it's best to at least take something to quell any future nausea you grab a Pedialyte Pop from the freezer. As fast as you entered your home you left, and not before ensuring twice that the door was locked and secured. While living on the outskirts of town saves you from many potential robberies, and worse salesmen, there's still the chance of some lunatic with an ax hiding out in a closet to murder you. Better safe now than sorry later.

Pulling into park behind the shop right at nine is a blessing. You run into the shop to clock in blurting out a quick 'Morning' to Nate, who was carrying a particularly large box, as you passed by him. In a flash you were back at your car retrieving your newly prized deer skull. Lungs burning a bit from the all out sprint you just did you took a little extra time to close the trunk and lock your car up to catch your breath, and avoid any light headiness you might get from the empty stomach workout. Eager to share the wonders of death with your best work friends, and by that you mean Nate your manager...and only other coworker, you rush back into the building.

The shop was quiet as usual as you made your way through the door though you were in the back room where only employees could roam you had the slightest suspicion that the front of shop was just the same. It's there you find Nate, now lugging a medium sized box around to a side table. He did this a lot you suspect some type of smuggling but hey plausible deniability and all those legal matters. The taller dark haired man sees you and just as he's about to wave you over, notices your prize with a raised brow.

“The fuck d'you bring in the store?” he doesn't seem amused by whatever it is he thinks you're up to. “Deer skull.” Lifting it up in one hand and pointing at it, “Found this guy on my hike last night...or rather this morning actually.”

“YN, we talked about this, you said you'd get some sleep last night. No adventures remember.” he's only two years older than you and yet he acts as if he's ten years. He must be an old soul, or enjoys the role of care giver...or you're making him go gray prematurely, anything's possible.

“Eh, I remember saying I'd 'try' and get sleep.” for someone who's body is running on fumes your cheekiness is astronomical, “operative word being 'try', remember.”

It's a long silence as Nate decides if he wants to deal with your bullshit at this moment. After a minute or so he concedes leaning back on the table behind him. “Let's hear it.” and you perk up immediately.

“Cool, so I was walking along the tree line and spotted him, tried to find more but seems there's only one piece. Judging by the size of his antlers I'd say he was nearly fully grown. Now my plan is to do whatever treatments taxidermists do to bones and,” you continue to word vomit at the tired twenty-six year old in front of you, about the joys and wonders of taxidermy and the likely hood of ever finding a skull so nicely preserved.

“I can do that in here right?” even though it's been phrased as a question, you aren't asking permission, you're just being polite and letting Nate know the storage room will house your creepy deer skull antics for today...maybe the week you need to find a taxidermist book to figure out what you need to do.

Nate gives up and leaves with his box of new books to let you have full run of the back to do your weird vulture culture shit. He figures he's just too old to understand the new obsessions with the macabre. He hopes his cousin won't take to shit like this, the kid's weird enough as it is, no need to put another target on her back. Nate sets off to take down the Harry Potter sets in favor of this new comic series little Jo wanted.

Already taking his silence as the go ahead you place your found skull on the table and rush off into the store front to find a book on taxidermy and hopefully more specifically about bones. The set up and organization of the store reminds you a lot of the scene in Brendan Fraser's The Mummy 1997 where Evie is on the ladder and somehow causes all the book shelves to fall like dominoes. So unsafe, yet all book stores and libraries seem to have this set up. With the tall shelves it makes it difficult to accurately get a read on the spines. You don't even know what section taxidermy actually falls under, education maybe?

“Nate, where do you think a book on taxidermy would be?” you called out as you passed by him.

“...hobby?” that didn't sound right but you'd give it a shot anyway.

This should be fun, the hobby section was so disorganized and it took up nearly half the store too, Book & Nook had everything from fishing, to crochet, cooking, the art of film making, hell even had a cryptid hunting book a book that you may have to look into a bit later. You closed your eyes and let your intuition guide you, when you looked up you saw a thin black...vine, no whisp? It undulates in less than rhythmic movements nearly like a snake but it has no head, and not unlike a tentacle but without suckers. It's another hallucination so you were keen to ignore it until it stretched past your head, giving you an added auditory hallucination where you swore you could hear wind rushing past your ears, it swirled around you until it flew to the shelf and tapped on a book. Cautiously you walked over to it, it's never good to play into these delusions. Once you got close enough the black shape was gone but on the shelf was a creme colored paper back titled “Manual of Taxidermy: Complete Guide of Preserving Birds and Mammals.”

Walking to Nate with the book in your hands you asked him to read it and make sure you weren't having an episode and making everything up right now. You'd have to try harder to go to sleep tonight if that were the case.

“Oh you found your book huh?” he said looking down at the title.

Well this is getting weird fast, but you nod nonetheless. Might as well thank the weird hallucination gift right. Leaving him to do whatever it is he plans on doing the rest of the day, you go to the back. And just as the book instructs you set to cleaning the skull by setting it in some water and changing it as many times as the water runs murky. The book is quiet helpful to a beginner like yourself but it does seem a bit outdated from the bits of information you know from taxidermists blogs and vulture culture posts on the internet. Reading it in between water changes is a great way to pass the time though, not like you guys get any real customers anyways.

The bell rings as the front door opens and closes alerting you to someone's arrival on your third water change. Needing a little bit of mental stimulation you walk out into the front where Big Jo and Little Jo are talking to Nate. Little Jo sees you and skitters away from her father to rush you, she stops about a foot away and holds her arms wide open. She's a hugger but upon meeting you had never even thought people could be touch adverse so keeping in mind that you might not want to be touched she's learned to invite you into hugs and it's your choice to allow it or not. Placing a hand on your bicep you give a squeeze, checking your tolerance you find the thought bearable. Placing your arms outstretched at your sides Jo rushes your torso for her hug.

After she nearly body slammed you into the wall, and  let her death grip go she was off on a tangent about so many things. Her excited rapid blinking tic, one she developed after meeting you, triggering your own.

“Ok so you remember how last week I told you that Jessie Kinsleton said that Micheal Saleisa told Gigi B, not Gigi S. that Meghan,” you had no clue the lives of eleven year olds had gotten so complex, from the gossip you heard from Jo it seemed that the school's sixth graders were plotting for a war with an ice cream parlor up the street. No clue why, maybe just to fuck the system, kids are weird, preteens are weirder...and angry.

But you nod to Jo listening to her every word, and trying to calm your eyelids so you could actually open your eyes. After being told the sequence of events that would happen in the Tween Armageddon, something to do with Marco Salvator ordering three dozen donuts and a flock of geese, your eyes finally gained their ability to see back. Black whisps, much like the one from earlier, wandered all around your vision, it looked like a  dark smoke had settled eye level within the shop and was snaking through the isles.

Catching the movement of your eyes Jo looked around the shop too. Seeing nothing she turned back to you concerned, “Hey it's okay, nothin's there.”

Hearing the drop in volume of the normally chatty tween, Big Jo and Nate pause their conversation to turn their attention to you and follow you're gaze.

“Kid, you ain't sleepin' again?” Big Jo can already gauge by the bags under your eyes but he's a polite man so he feels the need to ask rather than state his assumptions.

“Day 6.” You answer simply, ever since you've started at Book & Nook the whole Cowell family became acutely aware of many of your disorders. By their record your longest time spent awake was ten days, you however adamantly say that you were an hour's mark away from ten full days so the longest you've been up is nine days in a row. And those are just the cases they know of since you've moved to Kepler.

Big Jo shook his head as a stern father would, which he is, “I have half the mind to send you home to rest.”

“That won't work.” you really don't mean to sound so coarse but it's so irritating having to go over this at least once a week.

“What about those gummy things Dia got you?”

“Long term that kind of stuff has no effect, sure it'll make me drowsie for an hour or two but even if it made me sleep one night I can't use it all the time. And before you ask the same questions again, caffeine has no real effect on me so limiting my intake will do nothing and weed doesn't do a thing for me either.” you state plainly, monotone as you present facts that everyone in the room already knows.

Looking at the stern face of Big Jo's and the exasperated face of Nate you continue, “I know it must be frustrating for you to not be able to help, but I'm content living like this. I like my late night adventures and when I do sleep it's really pleasant.”you threw in a smile for added comfort.

“Kid tha's not the point, there's somethin' wrong with you, medically I mean.” he's pinching the bridge of his nose, probably counting to ten to calm himself from raising his voice.

“Tons of people suffer from insomnia and there isn't anything a doctor could do for me except look for underlying conditions.” Big Jo's about to retort when you continue with, “Plus my dad and uncle both have insomnia as well so my case is due to the genetic lottery I lost.” You say with a hint of finality of your situation, you had to come to terms with this condition all the way back in high school. Having a decade to get used to your strange condition and the limitations it places on you from time to time. Whereas the Cowell family's only had two months to process this information, and you understand it'll take awhile before they stop being concerned. Same thing happened with you parents and friends back then too.

For now you're only met with more head shakes as if they were saying 'what are we going to do with you'. Leaving your medical issues aside Nate and Big Jo continue to talk shop, when the set up Nate just put on display catches Jo's eye.

Like lightening the tween was away from your side and by the new display shelf it looked like it held graphic novels. That's a first since you've been here, you walk over to join Jo knowing the second you do she'll start on about what's got her so excited. Most people might say you over indulge the child and coddle her but you actually just think it's really important to take interest in what makes kids happy. It helps them find their voices and also shows them that it's normal to get excited and like things.

“We got the TAZ graphic novels in?!” you hate rhetorical questions but smile and nod at her anyway.

“Have you read them? No, well you've listen to the podcast...what omg! Ok so there's these three brothers and their,” Jo begins regaling you with tales from the podcast known as The Adventure Zone and how fun they've made dungeons and dragons seem with their amazing story telling and funny characters.

You aren't sure if a show where the main group of heroes being called Tres Horny Bois is exactly age appropriate but when you look to Big Jo he kind of just shrugs it off. Turning you attention back to Jo who's now monologing about mongooses you just smile at the weird family you've found yourself in.

Let it be said that a tween with a slightly unhealthy fixation on something can find anyway to drag it back to that fixation. The day flew by with Jo explain the inner workings of dungeons and dragons, fifth edition, to you, her father, and her cousin after you mentioned why she didn't play. Apparently she'd love to but wanted a story fitting for her friend's to adventure. So being the good older cousin, father, and weird family friend you all were you came up with a story plot for her to use with her campaign.

The Jos had a lot of fun bonding over this little workshop and you guys even had food delivered so you and Nate could stay later. What was meant to just be a quick workshop turned into a mini family game night after you made several nearly impossible puzzles that wouldn't be used in Jo's campaign due to no one at the current table understanding how to solve it even after you showed them several times.

Overall it was fun and you think you might actually be tired enough to go to sleep tonight. You tried to stay and help clean up but Big Jo put his foot down and told you to go get some rest, he'd seen the way you occasionally look around the room as if something was moving behind them all. You may have started off as a cashier two months ago for him but his daughter has opened up a lot since meeting you and discovering that tics aren't so uncommon and there are people who wouldn't care or make a big deal out of them. Because of that you've earned your keep in his family, he already has you down on the list for Christmas cards.

Knowing you can't fight the six foot four man you roll your eyes and bid everyone good night, little Jo coming in to steal another hug from you and thank you for helping with her game. Checking on your skull you see the water's clear and dump it in the sink of the break room before leaving the skull to dry overnight, it's for sure gonna make Nate scream tomorrow, you can't help but chuckle at that.

Leaving through the back door and into the dusk colored parking lot you notice your trunk is popped open slightly. You definitely heard it shut earlier this morning. You blink before your head jerks to the right, unsettled by possibility of a break in and not risking it you head back inside.

“Hey, I think my car may have been broken into.” you stand awkwardly in the door way unsure of how to proceed.

Big Jo and Nate are out of the door as fast as they can. They find your car unlocked with the trunk popped, you know they weren't trying to brush you off when they asked several times if you did in fact lock your car this morning. After hearing your affirmative response each time, they began to inspect your car checking to make sure all wires are properly secured under the hood, Nate even retrieved the jack out of his own car to take a look under the car, ensuring the brakes hadn't been messed with. They started the car up just fine and it didn't appear tampered with. Even though nothing looked out of place and Nate's car, sitting in the same parking lot, hadn't been touched you appreciated them checking to make sure you were alright.

Knowing you're perceived as a woman by most, even outside of this small town, makes you uneasy when it comes to terms of abductions and violence. You know the chances and hear the stories whether it's from the victim's mouth or a podcaster's telling the story the dead can't. Nate offered to follow you home and make sure you were ok but you declined and said you'd call them both when you got home. Big Jo said to just call his home phone because Nate would be coming over tonight anyway, and if they didn't make it there before you called Dia was already at home and would pass the message along. You'll probably still try and give the shop a call if Dia answers, it wouldn't sit right with you if you wound everyone up just to not and at least try to settle their nerves.

With one final check of you car, the men even going so far as to lift seats up and feel under them, they sent you off. You drove carefully on the road tonight, ready to pull off into the shoulder at the slightest hint that something was wrong. Not even the radio was on something that you really didn't like driving without, but if there was the chance for you to catch a shift in tone of the machine you wanted to. Eventually you did end up making it home in one piece and you had called the Cowell family home, from the safety of your car, and got a spazztic eleven year old asking if you'd made it home alright. It took a little bit of coaxing but Little Jo calmed down and shouted to her parents that you were on the phone and alright.

“Kid,” looks like Big Jo took the phone away from Little Jo, “Everything ok on the drive.” Big Jo could hear the movement and shutting of your car door, he'd have to say he was relieved you waited until you were on the phone before exiting. He knew you lived out past the quiet zone in Old Lydia's house. A fact that did little for the unease he felt when he thought you were being watched.

“Oh, yea drive was fine, too quiet but fine.” you said simply as you began circling the cottage. Nothing seemed out of place on the outside, even looking above eye level where people tended to get sloppy in stalking or home invasion cases, everything seemed fine.

“Hope you don't mind if I keep you for a bit.” You had just unlocked your door and stepped in.

“Nah, kid 's fine.” you give a hum of acknowledgment as you look through the kitchen in cabinets, under cupboards, and even under the table.

“You're a smart kid.” he's taken that fatherly overtone that makes you roll your eyes. You understand the sentiment of parents and parental figures having pride in their child or ward but it's always been so weird to you when they feel the need to bring it up. Especially when they bring it up in situations that are dangerous, like can you not make it sound like someone's about to die.

Finding nothing in the living room, hall closet or bathroom you make sure all the windows are locked and dowels are in place to keep them from opening. And you double check that both the back and front doors are secured. You can hear the hushed whispers on the other end of the line, Dia must have just found out about your car, as you rustle through your kitchen utensil drawers taking out two forks before you make your way to your bedroom.

Once in your room you checked your closet and under your bed. Finding nothing you  went to the window in your room, the one right by your bed, you checked the lock, secured it in place with two dowels, and then covered it throwing a thick blanket over the curtain rod to ensure no one would be viewing you in your sleep or the precautions you were about to do. Turing around and locking your bedroom door you then jam one fork into the closed door crease, right below the locking mechanism, and jammed the other fork perpendicular through the prongs. You attempted to open the door with all your weight but only could get an inch in before the forks would stop more movement.

“Kid you alright over there?” it's rushed, he probably heard the commotion with your make shift lock.

“Yea, just had to add another lock to the door.” you trust the Cowell's but you understand how stupid it'd be to let them know exactly how you were defending yourself. Even if it wasn't them there's no telling if the person who broke into your car was outside and just good at hiding. You could also be too jumpy from your true crime shows but you figure it's better to be safe.

“I think everything's good Big Jo.” taking a final glance around your room eye's landing on the bed, “Think I'm even ready to go to sleep tonight too.” a small half laugh leaves your mouth.

“Alright kid, you call if you need anything got it.” it's an order not a request.

“Got it, good night.” Big Jo might think that'd been rude coming from anyone else but from you he can only roll his eyes at the brevity and the dial tone he's met with. He has his own sweep to do, if they were targeting his employee there was a reason. He hasn't had any problems since coming to Kepler but someone always eventually comes along who can't take a hint.

Even combing through your home with Big Jo on the line you didn't feel safe having your bed by the window anymore and moved it away and in front of the closet door. You'd rearrange your room later but for tonight this would have to do. By some grace of god you were actually able to shut your brain down tonight and rest. Maybe it was the excitement and merriment from hanging out with the Cowells or more likely the situation you find yourself in of perhaps being a target for something insidious.

Whatever the case may be you are off to the land of dreams before you know it. And unbeknownst to you the same eyes from this morning watch your home. They may not have seen what you did in there but they'd be sure to catch you when you come out. They'll wait all night to catch you if they have to.

#creepypasta fanfic #proxies x reader #proxies #masky x reader #masky x hoodie #hoodie x reader #ticci tobyx reader #timothy wright x reader #brian thomas x reader #masky #hoodie #ticci toby #ticcitoby #timothy wright #brian thomas #reader insert #reader #readerinsert

[djmarinizelablog]

Hello! It's me again, your fellow Katipunera. Thank you so much for actually doing a short of my request and omg tibak Hange is just so fitting! 🥺 I hope you actually turn it into a full-length fic eventually, I can just imagine Hange teaching Levi different constellations as they stargaze at the PAG-ASA observatory lol. Again, many thanks and stay safe always! 🌻

Felt some sort of motivation to continue this fic, and since it's @levihanweek, I wanted to write something in a college setting, so here we go:

Day 1: School

(Read the first part here.)

He doesn’t know when it all started, how it happened. Hange draws him towards her by inviting him to more of these gatherings. The non-rallies. The post- or pre-processing for the protests. It’s informational, she says, something that classes could never teach them. And all he can do is listen and follow along.

They reserve a room on campus, one hidden from plain view, and Hange stands there in front in her plain black tee and baggy jeans, her flip flops a signature element to her outfit. A small crowd has gathered beforehand, waiting for what she has to say. Going up the small platform in the room, she balls her right hand into a fist in front of her audience, raises it up high, and begins her talk.

“The March for Science is a protest on behalf of the scientific and the marginalized community,” she says, reminding everyone that “no farmers, no food,” and “just the facts, bitches.” She elicits a few giggles from the younger audience, and that’s how Levi knows Hange’s got them hooked.

The people are intrigued by her speech, and there is a certain curiosity in their eyes with the way they burn bright. For Levi, politics was always something he didn't dare venture into and would rather leave things to his uncle who had a seat in the government. He wonders if there really is something worth fighting for in these kinds of issues. If there’s something worth standing up for. Or if it’s merely just Hange being Hange that sparks the interest of people.

When the meeting is over, he’s about to head for the exit, but Hange comes up to him. “What do you think?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “Could go a little bit softer with the dissent, but shit, you do you.”

Hange laughs, thinks it’s a joke. It’s only the two of them left in the room now. She puts her hands in her pockets. “Wanna have lunch with me?”

“Why?”

"I just feel like having some company right now. Besides, it’s National Resilience Day."

"I don't give a shit about the date," he says, making a mental note to remember that it is, indeed, National Resilience Day. He really doesn’t know how Hange has an inkling to know these kinds of obscure events. In the silence, his stomach betrays him with a gurgling sound, much to Hange’s amusement. “I guess I don’t mind grabbing something to eat.”

Truth be told he doesn’t like eating at the public cafeteria. It’s too open, too messy, and the busboys who collect the empty plates from the tables are terrible when it comes to waiting—last time he stayed there, Levi was still finishing up his meal when someone swiped his plate from him. Now he’d rather dine elsewhere. Perhaps in fancier restaurants that he can somehow afford with the weekly allowance that his uncle provides him.

But Hange doesn’t take him there.

She takes it a notch above his expectations when she brings him to the public food carts where vendors are selling street food of all kinds. Levi can hear the sizzling of fish balls getting deep-fried in a wok, the crackling of hot oil, the clinking of coins being exchanged in transaction. One of the vendors is basting the meat sticks in sweet sauce, flipping the skewers once in a while, the smell of barbeque wafting through the air.

“I go here ‘cause it’s cheap and it helps the small business owners,” Hange explains as she orders them the so-called combo meals. He offers to pay nevertheless, but Hange dismisses it, saying it’s her treat—for tagging him along to these talks. She continues to explain the plight of the vendors: “Some days they need assistance, so they allow students to take over the stalls and sell their food on behalf of them for a day or two.”

“What kind of students would do that? It’s disgusting to be under the heat of the sun all day.” He blurts out without really thinking, but thankfully, Hange’s not the slightest offended.

In fact, she seems to understand where he’s coming from. “One day, maybe you’ll see.”

When their meals are ready, Hange shoves one of the plates into his hands. He frowns. “You don’t eat cheese sticks?” she asks him.

“Never tried.”

“Oh, boy.” Hange smirks at him. “This will change your life.”

Instead of heading to the cafeteria, she proposes to take him someplace else. They’re sitting cross-legged on a bench in front of the academic oval, watching people run across the grassy field. Hange waves a hand at someone and Levi recognizes Moblit from their other class. He has never really done this before, just watching, observing from a distance. Except when he’s with her.

Hange takes another piece of cheese stick from the paper plate of instant stir-fry noodles. They’re running out of fish balls on the side. He likes what he’s had so far, even the sauce that goes along with their meals.

"So what are you taking?" Hange asks him while munching on her food.

He twirls his fork on the plate so he can scoop the remaining noodles. "Communications." Hange guffaws, and he’s offended. "What's so funny?"

Hange tries to compose herself and proceeds to dip her cheese stick into the honey mustard. "No, it's just that… for someone who's so awfully high-strung and silent and, uh, non politically-involved, you don't strike me as the type of person who would be… communicative."

Her conclusion does make sense. Most students studying Communication are lively, energetic, and talkative. Needless to say, he’s none of those.

"I don't imagine myself to be a reporter. I imagine myself writing articles for print. Editing. Proofreading. Stuff like that."

"I see.” She stares into the sunset, and Levi does the same. There are trees all around them, the honking of cars on the main road, the clamor of barkers and passengers alighting the public vehicles, the nuances of their campus life.

Somehow, it makes him feel safe.

Hange proceeds to tell him about how she likes to stargaze at night, because the constellations are so much clearer from this point of view in their university field. He has an inkling that it’s her way of inviting him to stargaze with him some other time. He already likes the idea a lot, but he feels like he still wants to get to know her even better.

“Why are you into all of this?” he can’t help but ask her. “What makes you think your anger can solve the nation's problems?”

It’s a very loaded question, one that really makes Hange think. She doesn’t speak for a while and proceeds to finish her food. He allows her the silence between them. Maybe he should have been a little bit nicer. A little less aggressive.

"Our very own Father President refuses to put medical science before politics. Everyone should be a supporter of science, you know? We all should listen to the scientists."

He scoffs. “Easy for you to say. It’s hard to believe what’s true and what isn’t nowadays.”

Their plates are now empty, and Levi takes hers so he can throw it in the nearest trash can. When he comes back, he sits beside her once again, this time, closer.

"I care about science and evidence-based policies, not the nonsense that politicians say,” Hange tells him while staring at the sunset. After a few seconds of silence, she faces him. “What about you?"

Levi finds the strength to hold her gaze. "I care about the untarnished truth."

#lhw2021 #levihanweek2021 #day 1: school #levihan #aot #snk #shingeko no kyojin #attack on titan #levi ackerman #snk levi #hange zoe #hanji #hanji zoe #soft hours #fanfic #fanfiction #writing #mine #ask #open #djmarinizela

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Unbetrothed

Summary: Let me just say I am an American with no idea of how royal hierarchies work. Just made something up.

Governors are basically kings of the states they run with their own armies and mayors are dukes. Women are not allowed to work, only marry.

Dark MCU royal AU [but not really grey at best]

Sam Wilson x reader, dark Thor x reader [not really i don’t think. more like grey Thor]

Warning: attempted suicide, sex

----

"She's old Margret" your father huffed.

"Dear no I think you're being harsh" your mother defended.

You sat in the kitchen peeling potatoes for tonight’s dinner as you listened to him complain.

"I most certainly am not! She is old. Way past her prime. Am I supposed to work myself to death to  support her?" He grumbled.

"Her brothers have long sense left this house. Started families of their own. Making their own way about the world."

"Dear they are men. Made to labor. What would you have her do? You refused her education. She has little options"

Women were with few exception not allowed to work. If you were not aiming to be a nurse, maid, or teacher. Most girls stopped their education after they learned to read or their parents stopped paying for tuition.

"Well, I would have assumed she would have been long sense married by now. What would be the point in wasting the money on education?"

He would often complain after doing his monthly expenses. Paying for the loan on the house, paying to feed himself and his wife, but the extra cost of the spare mouth of a daughter drove him up the wall. He actually calculated how much extra money he would have if you were not there draining his savings. As if it would by him a cottage on a beach in the state.

A popper he was not but a frugal bastard he was indeed. Only spending extra if he could come out ahead in the end.

It was like this most days, the only time it wasn't were when your father stayed out to drink. Pouring his sorrows into a pint and from your mothers presumption whores.

"Joseph, from work, told me that the Governor's having a ball. Says that his son told him that they send all the army boys there, most bachelors the lot of them. You know those army folks are quick to wed." He told your mother. He had planned this out thoroughly it would seem. "Lets put some lipstick on this pig and send her off"

"She is not a cow you sell at market!" Your mother was outraged out the notion.

"Well Moo Moo Margret. She is going. If she doesn't find a suitor then she is out on the streets. Have the state worry for her."

"Dear you cant mean that. She is our blood." Your mother would do nothing more than speak of her disapproval.

"It's my mother's fault." He said as he walked to his favorite sitting chair. "She was a bit misshapen. Got her damn jeans from me. Swear if she didn't look like her I would deny her my name" your mother gasped loudly at the insult.

"She tried to marry the Wilson boy and you denied her! Now look at him, second in command of the states army."

"Well, I thought when she...uh" he paused to find the right word to say. "Bloomed she would bring better prospects."

When you were 14 you fell in love with Sam Wilson and he with you. Children of the same age, same culture and you two had become fast friends. He had always made you laugh and it was not uncommon to be betrothed at such a young age.

One day while playing by the creek he had pushed you against the old oak tree and kissed you. So innocent and sweet, but it only lasted a fraction of a second. You had stared at him with your eyes wide with shock and surprise.

"Y/N I love you. Marry me?" He had no ring just a wild daffodil half ruined from being hid within his pants pocket. You had hugged him so tight he teased that you almost broke his bones. You had loved him for ages and to have your best friend love you back was truly a delight any girl could ask for.

The day felt like a dream as you two lay in the field and talked of your future. How many children, where the house should be, what the wedding would be like. You hadn't even noticed that the sun was setting as the euphoria of your love took over.

Kissing him on the cheek with a promise to meet again tomorrow you rushed home. With a smile that would not falter.

"Mom! Mom!" You burst through the door.

"What is it girl? You're so loud. What is it?"

"Sam! He asked me to be his wife!" Barely able to catch your breath as you retell the events.

Your mother's sweet smile showed of her approval in the union. The excitement of telling your father made the hands on the clock drag. When you saw the cart finally drop him off you exploded through the door and rushed to tell him your joyous news.

But your joy was short lived. Sam's family was not the status that he wanted for you. He gambled that when you were to hit puberty you would attract hire quality suitors. To hedged his bets he pulled you from school and refused you out to see Sam.

The decision crushing you completely, your home had become your prison for over a decade. Only allowing out into the world to join your mother for her weekly shopping.

He broke you back then and thought nothing of it. Unmoved by your constant tears and sorrow. Eventually you cared not for the fancy things in life. Your hair unkept, your clothes unpressed and makeup was as foreign to you as the neighboring states. Your mother would often scold you for not putting out your best as to catch the eyes of a suitor. But what was the point?

You lived only in the fading memories of Sam. Replaying ways to have made things different. Your mother took pity allowing you stationary upon which to write. Sending him love letters, but sadly with no replies.

"Well I buying her a ticket to the governors ball. We have enough for a decent enough dress so get her ready." Plopping down he opened his smoking box to take out his pipe. Lighting it up with long puff signaling to your mother that the final word had been spoken.

Your mother with your fathers pocket book went all out. When he saw the receipts he almost had a stroke. He swore never again to make that mistake with your mother again.

Your hair, makeup and dress were all done for the affair. When she showed you the results in the mirror before you left with your father you swore someone had bewitched the mirror.

When you two arrived at the Governors estate your father pushed you to mingle. But you had not the heart for music and fun. Walking aimlessly about the crowded event until you spotted him.

It couldn't be could it?

Walking up to the man you presumed to be your long lost love you call out.

"Sam?"

It was him, adorn in his formal military uniform.

"Y/N?"

Your heart felt like it beat for the first time in ages. Swelling with joy tears almost fell from your eyes at the sight of your long lost love.

You hugged him instantly, but it took a moment before his arms reciprocated the gesture.

"I always wondered what happened to you. I even went to your house but I was always turned away"

"It was all my fathers doing. Did you receive my letters? My mother made sure to mail them daily, but I never got word back."

Even through your despair you had never stopped writing. Everyday even when your mind tried to insert logic you still wrote. You could barely spell and your mother was of no use in that matter, but that did not stop you.

"What letters?" He was at a loss and that is when your heart began to hurt a little at the betrayal of you're only ally.

Every shopping day your mother would buy you the most gorgeous letter paper to write to him with, only to never send them. But why?

"I wrote to you every day Sam I swear it" you were in denial. She wouldn't have done that. No never her. Not your mother.

"Honey who is this?" A beautiful woman appeared from his side.

"This is an old friend. Wanda this is Y/N"

She was so striking and much younger than you. "Oh hello he talks much about his youth here in this state, but I'm sorry I don't recall you." You could see her trying to recall a memory and even with the scrunch of her brow she was a sight.

What would you say to her? That you were his first love, first kiss, that he had proposed to you. That you still had the daffodil he gave. Now pressed in the holy book on the page that would have held your vows.

"I.." You looked at him. His smile was for her now. You were nothing, but a ghost playing among the living. "I went to school with him when I was much younger, but never completed." She smiled at you so pure and overflowing with love for him that it made you sick, but you forced yourself to mirror her.

"Well it was nice meeting you, Y/N.." She said through the loud music."but if you will excuse me I would love to dance with my fiancé." Pulling him away. As they departed what was left of your heart felt as if it had rolled in glass.

Every breath brought a pain and as your vision began to blur you saw your father approached with that look. That look that you had not the energy to deal with. So you took off. Walking swiftly through the crowded ballroom zigging and zagging not knowing where to go. You were boiling over, but you didn't want the world to see. For Sam to see.

As you scanned the massive room filled with people you spot a staircase that wrapped along the wall. You don't know why you went to it, but you did. Ascending the stairs as quickly as you could in your full dress. Tripping only twice on the petty coat underneath, but still able to stand up right. There were fewer people on this level, each in their own conversation of this or that. Taking a deep breath you decide to turn left. Passing awkwardly by the smaller groups of people before stopping at the door at the end of the hall.

The massive wooden door was unlocked when you tried the handle. Pushing it open you could see no lights. Entering the darkness of the room, the blackness poured over you then the tears fall before you could close it behind you. With your back pressed to it you slid down the door and on to the floor. The sound of the booming music from the band hiding you're sobbing from the world.

As you cried you felt the cold breeze of the night prickle your skin. Looking you see the sheer curtain dance in the wind the color of the moon light giving it a soft ghostly hue. Standing up you walked to it. Opening the curtain you found the window to actually be a small balcony.

Walking out to the banister at the end you stare up at the moon and the sight of it filled you with loneliness. A small part of you had held out hope that Sam still loved you, would come for you and you two would live out those childhood wishes from long ago. But he wasn't and your father would surely be tossing you out by the morrow.

You didn't know how, but somehow you had climbed over the railing. Staring at the earth below.

What was the point? You couldn't work, too old to marry. Born to be nothing.

"You shouldn't be here." A voice came out from behind the ghostly veil.

Turning your head you look back to see, but when you spotted him you only stared through him.

Holding on to the steel frame of the balcony you lean forward. Hoping that when you fall and kiss the ground that the pain would be swift. So you let go.

"No you don't"

He was fast. Catching your wrist before you descended. Looking up at him you could see him clearly now. The strain on his face had his veins busting through his flesh as he pulls you back up and over the banister.

He had pulled you so hard that he lost balance and landed on the  floor with you on top of him.

Pushing yourself off his chest you straddled him. Your dress almost swallowing him whole. When he sat up he rubbed the back of his head and hissed. As he straightened himself, his height could not be ignored.

"Are you mad wo.." His words were cut off by the crashing of your lips to his. You just pressed them hard into his, your eyes shut tight as your fingers clasped the fabric of his formal uniform.

His hands came on to your shoulders and pushed you back. "They had told me these events were to be a prudish affair. Had I known women of this state were made of fire we would have united our states long ago." His strange accent had you gawking at him.

Your eyes fell to his uniform, the colors were all wrong. It was not of your state's formal wear, but anothers.

He kissed you this time, his tongue tickled your bottom lip the sudden wetness of it made you gasp and he took that opportunity to invade. Yours sat frozen in your mouth bewildered by the intrusion.

When his hands fell on your hip you yelped in his mouth. "Move for me" he said as his hands guided you back and forth on his lap. The friction of his pants on your bloomers was delightful. Moaning in his mouth your eyes shot open wide. Embarrassed by the foreign noise, but the man only chuckled on your lips.

Your hands released his clothes and wrapped around his neck. When he bit your bottom lip you bit his, when his tongue flicked yours you flicked his in turn. You let him guide you to every move. His hands fell from your hip, but you still kept the pace as the warm fuzziness of the feeling building in your core wanted more.

Placing his arms on your back he pushed you backwards on to the  cold balcony floor while never breaking his kiss. Your heart beat hard in your chest as you felt him press you into the unforgiving floor with your dress the only bit of comfort to it.

He pulled away again making you whimper. His smile looked so devilish as he stared down at you. "Your pure aren't you girl."

Your ears felt hot as his eyes looked upon you. "Yes" it came out almost as a whisper.

He bit his lip almost fighting off a bigger grin. Moving his hands from your back one hand glided atop your dress. Grazing both breasts before hooking his in it. Pulling the fabric down allowing your breast to bounce free in the night air. His warm palm overtaking the circumference of one breast filling your body with more fire.

Bending down you closed your eyes to receive a kiss, but it never came. His wet mouth latched onto your exposed bosom, making you pant. The flicking of his tongue drove you mad with wanting. His soft lips kissed each breast before sucking your nipple into his mouth. "Your flesh is sweeter than any honey I've ever tasted." His rugged voice sent you soaring to the heavens.

Bunching up your dress his hand moved slowly up your thigh. Stopping at your bloomers. "What do you want little dove?" He looked down at you again. Waiting for your answer.

Was this what Sam does to Wanda?

For whatever reason your mind could not picture him this way. So your mind drifted, thinking of the women of the night. The women that lived for the night as you are now. Your mother had spoke often about loose women. Whores she would call them. Good for nothings seen as no more than the corrupters of men souls. That’s why she never blamed your father for his misdeeds. You wanted to be a corrupter of men, to hold a power over them. Seeing as giving them power had brought you no joy in this world.

"I want to be a whore" at your words his smile dropped and a hunger unfamiliar to you grew upon his face.

Hurriedly pulling your bloomers down you could hear a growl from him. As if by the moon he would change into a wolf right before your eyes. His focus strayed from you but for only a brief moment as he fiddled with his own attire.

He lay between your spread legs poking at your muff with a rod harder than the floor that ached your back. "Then my whore you shall be" without another word he forced himself into you.

The pain and discomfort had you screaming into the night. Pushing him off, but he held steadfast deep in you up to his hilt. Tears prickled your eyes as the pain felt unbearable. Lifting your legs onto his shoulder allowed him deeper still and you felt too full.

"Please sir it hurts" you hissed. Your eyes pleading up at him.

"Not for long my dove" His hips slammed against you with such forced that you tried to crawl backwards away. But with his hands on your shoulder he locked you in place. Each time his hips slapped yours it sent jolts throughout your body.

Your mewls mixing with his groans while the music played from the ball down stairs. "It hurts!" Your voice quakes as he continued his punishing thrust. Your breasts jerking harshly from his movements while your legs try and force him off, but he went on undeterred.

"My..dove.. sing for me" and you did with every thrust.

Your back arched off the unforgiving ground as you felt your cunt stretched beyond its limits to receive him. Your nails dragged along his coat sleeves, snagging on badges here and there.

The pain of him faded into a wave of ecstasy. "More please" you panted.

"Does..my..dove..love.. my..cock" he teased as he watched your face transform from pain to pleasure. Hitting your core harder with each word, moaning deeply as he filled you.

"Mmm so-so good." You moaned. The pressure from him electrified your whole body. You could feel every inch of him and you wanted more.

"A whore..only for...me" he groaned. His chest pressed into your legs as his movements grew wilder. Your body felt a buzz, your flower so alive, clenching feverishly around him. His member started twitching, flexing inside of you and filling you with more warmth and wetness.

"Such a good little dove" he praised.

When he stopped he gave your lips one last kiss before falling over to your side. Your legs flopped to the floor landing with a thud shaking like a leaf in the wind. Turning your head to him, you examined the glistening features of his face.

"Who are you?" You panted out half exhausted.

As he began to speak the door creaked open in the distance.

"Y/N!" Your fathers voice shouted out. You sat up with a cold splash of reality hitting you.

When your father came into the room he had only seen the aftermath. A compromising position that sent him into a tizzy. Racing over to you he grabbed your for arm pulling you from your savior.

Pulling up your top and cleaning off your dress you prayed he had not noticed your very bare chest in the confusion.

"What are you doing who is that?" He roared furiously. "Speak"

*Smack

His slap faded into the nights air. He must be getting older, much more older than you thought him to be. His strikes barely fazed you now, but you held your face as if it still held the same power as they used to have.

"What were you thinking you stupid girl? Your chastity is you're only saving grace." He was furious. "I can't believe my own daughter a whore."

"Ah heeeehhhmmmm" the stranger cleared his throat behind you. His height towering over you and your father.

"Excuse me sir, but in my state we do not take Kindly to the striking of innocent women."

"And who are you to speak to me in such a ways army boy?"

"I'm lieutenant Governor Thor Odinson of the Asgardian state. New allies of your Governor's state."

Your father's eyes widened in shock as did yours.

"We were just admiring the constellations as we are ought to do in my state. Isn't that right milady?"

Your father looked to you to answer while Thor shot you a knowing wink.

"Well if you would excuse her intrusion sir, but she is supposed to be finding a suitor not laying about star gazing" he spoke nervously.

Pulling you out of the room by your arm as Thor faded into the darkness.

"What happened to your face girl you look a sight?" He said annoyed. "Go to the mirror and fix yourself" he pointed to a mirror along the wall right before the entrance to the room. "Had someone else spotted you, you would have been thought a harlot for sure" he huffed.

Hurrying away you rush to the mirror all the while you felt Thor's seed snake down your leg.

#sam x reader #dark thor x reader #black writer

[not-close-to-straight]

100% Professional (Final)

MASTERLIST

******************

A few weeks later 

"Hey hey, I'm not ready to say good night to you yet." Wade wound his arm around Peter's waist and tugged him closer. "Where are you going?" 

"I've still got a  piece to write for work tomorrow." Peter said reluctantly, and tossed his taco trash away. "And you've got that thing with Sam at like six am, don't you?" 

"I could definitely reschedule a fun run with Sam if you wanted to stay." Wade countered. "Especially since there's nothing fun about running at all. Whoever coined that phrase should be given a swift roundhouse kick to the face." 

"It's important that you keep appointments with people who are a positive influence in your life." Peter recited, clearly quoting the self help book Wade kept on the living room coffee table. "And I know I'm delightful? But Sam is a much better positive influence in your life." 

"Pete--" 

"Last night we ate Cheez Whiz until you coughed it out your nose." Peter pointed out. "And the day before that we watched six straight hours of reality TV because neither one of us could find the remote. Could have just turned the TV off, but nope. We watched six solid hours of reality dating." 

"Okay, yeah that was pretty bad." 

"We sucked helium and sang Christmas songs until we gave ourselves migraines." 

"Also bad." 

"Face it." Peter smoothed his hands down Wade's arms, lingering over the bulge of the former soldiers biceps. "We make the worst decisions together so you should definitely spend the morning with Sam, who consistently is encouraging you to get better and is always glad to see you at group." 

"I sort of hate that you're all supportive and encouraging me to better my self." Wade grumbled half heartedly. "You were much more fun when you were just rubbing me with oil and trying to catch a peek at my dick." 

"I resent the implication that I still don't try to look at your dick." Peter retorted and Wade only laughed. "Definitely fun run with Sam and then call me after wards. I'll work on your calves since I'm sure you're gonna be sore." 

"...really?" Wade hesitated. "You'd work on me?" 

"Why not?" If Peter noticed he was all but glommed onto Wade's chest, he didn't comment. If anything the pretty brunette only scooted closer, tangling their feet and hooking his fingers into Wade's belt. "If you're hurting, I'm gonna help you. I'm a trained professional, remember?" 

"I vaguely remember you being something like a massage therapist." Wade agreed. "Even though our marshmallow eating contest last week gave me a few doubts." 

"That's fair." Peter said immediately. "I wouldn't trust a professional who shouted chubby bunny with eleven marshmallows in their mouth either. That's perfectly valid. In fact, if you hadn't doubted my professional status after that I'd worry about you. And also--" 

"I fired my massage therapist last week." Wade interrupted, and Peter went very still. 

"What? Why?" 

"Because she's not you?" Wade asked slowly. "Is that an okay reason?" 

"It's not a real reason." Peter pointed out, but he didn't pull away. "Obviously she's not me, lots of people aren't me. But why would that matter? We pretty much decided that we could have a working relationship or a friendship but not both, right? So you got another therapist and we-- we are friends." 

"Is that what this is?" Wade took a chance and drew his fingers through Peter's hair, down to fit his palm to the back of Peter's neck and rub circles over his pulse. "Friendship?" 

"Well yeah." Peter shivered, leaning his head back into Wade's palm. "Right? Friendship. We hang out and we laugh and we do stupid things together when we're drunk. We've sort of moved on into holding hands and sure this hug is about eight minutes too long but--" 

"Can I kiss you?" 

"Please God, kiss me." Peter stood up on his toes and met Wade halfway, their mouths crashing together in the sort of kiss that was months and months and months over due, the sort of kiss that belonged in movies with dramatic storms and soaring musical scores, the kind that left two people gasping and melting, torn between undressing each other right there and maybe just wanting to linger in the innocence of this particular first. 

"Wade." Peter whispered when they finally parted. "Oh my god." 

"Yeah." Wade leaned back into dot a kiss to Peter's cheek, to brush his lips over the line of Peter's jaw. "Yeah, I know. It's about time, right?" 

"I think um--" Peter was blushing, biting at his lip and trying to inch closer so Wade would keep kissing him. "I think it was right about perfect timing for us, right? Seems like a long time coming, but we did it the right way?" 

"If you say so." Wade cleared his throat. "Kinda wish our first kiss wasn't in front of the taco stand though. Seems like I could have been more romantic than that."

Peter tried and failed to stifle a chuckle. "Tacos are super romantic, what are you talking about?" 

"Tacos are romantic, you're absolutely right." Wade dug in his pocket so he could actually pay the very patient taco guy. "We should eat and--" 

He shut up when Peter kissed him again. "Pete?" 

"I'm not ready to say goodnight to you." Peter said slowly, clearly. "But it's important that you do this run with Sam, and it's important that I get to work, so I'm going to go. You'll call me tomorrow so I can work on you when you're sore?" 

"I'll call you tomorrow." Wade nodded, leaning in to press their foreheads together. "For a purely professional massage. Definitely. Definitely will not try and grope my massage therapist." 

"You grope me and I'll charge you double." Peter threatened and Wade retorted, "What if it's just a little grope? I'll call it a tip." 

"I feel like your version of giving me a tip and my version of you giving me a tip are pretty different."  

"I dunno Pete, you've been horny for me forever. Pretty sure we're talking about the same tip." 

"Wade-" 

"SOMEONE TAKE YOUR CHANGE!" The taco guy shouted, obviously having overheard way more than he wanted, obviously fed up with Wade and Peter's weekly taco stop/flirty episode. 

"Keep the change." Wade waved the guy off. "Call it a tip. "

Peter choked on his food as he tried not to laugh and Wade stole just one more kiss. 

"I'll call you tomorrow?" 

"Please call me tomorrow." Peter's smile was hopeful, his eyes sparkling. "I can't wait." 

****************

****************

"How was the fun run?" Soleus. Peroneal Muscle Group. Gastrocnemius. Peter mentally recited the names of calf muscles as he worked at Wade's legs, desperately trying to distract himself from the fact that his friend-- boyfriend?-- was almost naked under the sheets. "Feel like a champ for finishing?" 

"I feel like hog tying Sam and beating him with a broom for making me do it." Wade grunted as Peter felt over a particularly tight spot. "He gave me this grand speech about how exercise is just as crucial to healing as therapy and mental exercises are, then he dragged my ass out there in the rain and forced me to watch him run in booty shorts. How is that healing?" 

"I feel like you probably didn't have to stare at him in booty shorts." Peter countered. Peroneal longus. Extensor digitorum longus. Achilles. "There had to be a thousand other places for you to look besides Sam's ass, right?" 

"The man's got a nice ass." Wade admitted and Peter grinned. "It was nice to finish, I guess. I've hit all these milestones in therapy but those are just check marks on paper. It felt good to check something off my list that not even healthy people do, you know? Most people will never run a marathon, and I did that today." 

"Yeah, I'm one of those people that will never run a marathon." Peter hesitated for a split second before sliding his hands up past Wade's knee to the back of his thigh. "I'd much rather watch from the sidelines and critique people's forms." 

"That seems hilariously judgmental of you." Wade tensed under Peter's fingers, then blew out a deep breath and forced himself to relax. This is a professional massage. "And you better start running because I signed us up for the city run this summer." 

"The one in July?" Semimembranosus muscle. Semitendinosus muscle. "That seems... I mean, that's like seven months out. Little far in advance to make plans, don't you think?" 

"It's not that far in advance." Wade hedged. "You uh-- you planning on going anywhere, Pete?" 

"I'm planning on being exactly here." Peter said softly, almost too softly, and to lighten the moment he added, "Charging you ridiculous amounts of money for hour long massages. I want to buy a car this summer, so this is as good a time as any to mention my rates doubled." 

"Doubled, huh?" Wade's laugh was pained as Peter dug his thumbs into a particularly bad knot. "Why do you need a car?" 

"I can’t take another month in Ye Olde Drug Makers Den, so I’m finally moving apartments." Biceps femoris muscle. "Unfortunately all the reasonably priced safer neighborhoods will require a sort of crazy commute and it'd be faster to have a car so I don't have to deal with the subway. Plus, Jameson is talking about having me travel, so I could write off the car as a business expense. It'd just be nice to have a choice in my transportation, I guess." 

"I got a car you can have." Wade forced out another one of those slow breaths when Peter moved even higher up his leg. "I couldn't drive after my injury but selling it always felt like I was admitting I was too fucked up to function. It's been sitting in storage for a couple years now." 

"Yeah? How much you wanna sell it for?" Peter paused again, reminded himself that he was definitely a professional and he could definitely handle seeing Wade mostly naked while kneading at his --gulp-- finely toned ass. They had kissed yesterday and it was fine, it wouldn't have any bearing on the massage today. It was fine. It was fine it was fine it was fine. 

Abductor magnus muscle. Gluteus maximus muscle. 

Holy shit, that thing was fine.

"How much do you want to sell the car for?" Peter tried so hard to sound casual just then, hoping the conversation would distract from-- from everything. 

"You can just have it." Wade shifted on the massage table, digging his fingers into the mat. "Doesn't um-- doesn't make sense for me to-- for me-- whew. Pete, uh maybe we should--" 

"You okay?" Peter paused, gave in to an entirely wicked impulse and spread his hands out over Wade's rear. "Is this-- this is weird right? After we kissed? It's weird for me to work on you. Should I stop?" 

"No, it feels good." Wade sounded positively strangled. "Feels good after my run and uh-- it's just nice that it's you but we can't-- I definitely can't roll over this time, ya feel me?" 

"Shit." Peter leaned over and rested his forehead between Wade's shoulder blades. "Wade, I promise I am actually a professional. I dunno what it is about you that makes it impossible to get through a session without skewing innuendo-ish--" Wade snorted a laugh and Peter smiled a little, leaving a feather soft kiss on Wade's back. "--but let me finish working on you and then maybe we can--"

"Come here." Faster than Peter was ready for, Wade rolled to his side and yanked Peter down for a kiss, crushing their mouths together and grabbing at Peter's side to keep him close. 

"Oh my god." Peter abandoned all pretenses of professional and shoved Wade onto his back, clambering up onto the table to straddle Wade's waist and to leave bruising kiss after wonderfully bruising kiss on the soldier's lips. "Wade, please." 

"Yeah baby boy, I've got you." Wade's hands were everywhere, dragging down Peter's back and grasping at his rear, digging into Peter's thighs and holding him still so Wade could grind up  into him. "I've got you, I've got you, I've got you." 

Peter's shirt probably tore as it was yanked off and tossed aside but nobody cared, and Peter cried when Wade surged up to seal his lips over a pink nipple, blunt teeth on sensitive skin making him nearly scream.  He got sweet sweet sweet revenge by worrying a bruise onto the curve of Wade's neck, not letting up until Wade was panting and swearing and tearing at his pants.

When Wade groaned in frustration over Peter's skinny jeans, the brunette laughed breathlessly and tried to climb off the table, promising, "Two seconds. Let me get these off and I'll be right back, two seconds and then you can have me." 

But alas, the massage table was not meant to hold the combined weight of two grown men, much less too grown men rocking the table back and forth and trying to get nekkid and just as Peter was climbing off to get rid of his jeans--

--the table wobbled--

--and cracked--

--and all four legs shattered--

--and an oiled up and mostly naked Wade dropped right onto the floor, toppling a half in-half out of jeans screeching Peter on top of him. 

Peter and Wade stared at each other, at the mess, at the broken table and the splotch of lotion all over the expensive carpet, and just when Peter was gearing up to apologize, Wade collapsed into laughter, full blown side splitting guffaws and after a stunned few seconds, Peter joined him. 

It felt good to laugh, good to release all the pent up sexual tension with some giggles, good to put a halt to the out of control moment with some hilarity. 

Wade was still wiping tears from his eyes a few moments later as he managed, "Alright, so all those smutty videos where the massage therapist gives a client a royal dicking down on the table? False, eh?" 

Peter wheezed for breath, inching across the ruined table to curl into Wade's side, holding onto him as he shook through a few more laughs. "That was terrible, oh my god. I didn't think it would actually break." 

"It's alright anyway." Wade hooked an arm around Peter's shoulders and pulled him tight, dropping a quick kiss onto his forehead. "Means we actually have to do this first time right instead of mid massage and in my living room, huh?" 

"I dunno." Peter kissed Wade back, wrinkling his nose teasingly. "We did everything else about this funky, might as well have funky first time sex too." 

"Funky first time sex." Wade deadpanned. "Be still my romantic heart. At least let me take you out to dinner, baby." 

"Tacos." Peter said promptly. "Go get tacos and I'll get this cleaned up and we can do funky first time sex properly." 

"Yeah alright." It took all of Wade's self control to peel away from Peter. Months and months they'd waited to get to this point and now they had to clean up broken massage table and try for dinner and-- 

"Why don't you move in with me?" he blurted before he could stop himself, and Peter's jaw dropped open. "You need a new place, I have a car you can drive and we're halfway in love so it's inevitable anyway. Move in with me." 

"...I think it's bold of you to invite me to move in before you know how I am in bed." Peter said slowly. "Um-- what if I'm terrible in the sack? Use teeth when there should be no teeth? What if I’m a total pillow princess and then you have to share your apartment and car with a highly unprofessional massage therapist who gives shitty blow jobs?" 

Wade tried to hide a smile. "You give shitty blow jobs, Pete?" 

"Well I mean--" Peter shrugged, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I guess you'll have to find out, right? No backsies though, whether you like the blowjobs or not, I'll be living here." 

"No backsies." Wade rubbed a hand over his bare scalp and nodded as if he wasn't ready to explode with excitement. "You wanna move in with me?" 

"I definitely do." Peter's eyes were shining. "But I'm about two seconds from jumping you again because I'm so happy, so go get tacos and get back so we can do this the right way." 

"I'll be right back." Wade promised, and ducked down the hallway to find his clothes. "Don't go anywhere, okay?" 

"I'll be right here." Peter kicked out of the last leg of his jeans so he was just in his shorts. "Right here. Hurry." 

Wade was dressed and out the door, nearly running for the elevator when Peter stuck his head out from the apartment and yelled, "And what do you mean, we're half in love? You better tell me you love me like a real man or the deal's off!" 

"No backsies!" Wade yelled back, grinning when he heard Peter laughing. "You're stuck with me now!"

***************

SAY SOMETHING ABOUT THE FIC!

***************

@ships-galore @ceealaina @izziebladez @cwar1864 @hausoffro @tonystarkisanangel @multishippinglife @girlnic @iam93percentstardust @paranormalmoonlight5 @igotloki @moosette05 @wayward-student-philosopher @kaz-brekkers-gloves @atomicfandombomb @1fuckingshitup69 @agentlokii @livewire28 @tulipsnbigcats @kimstark @alex-stark-rogers @bibbarnes @heeeyitskay @goindownshipping @quietgayguy @nanita90a @justaniche 

@chiby-chan @thanossucks @i-am-worth-it-25 @dan4thefam

#ncts fics #spideypool

[angstysebfan]

If You Love Me, Why Did You Hurt Me 10/10

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Other Avengers Mentioned: Everyone, but mostly Tony and Nat Warnings: none

Summary: You dated Bucky for 5 wonderful years! You thought he was the one! Then, without reason, he ends your relationship, and gets a new girlfriend 2 days later! While you are both Avengers, you still have to see him, and his girlfriend.

Series Masterlist

The next several months went in a blur. You were officially cleared to return to all missions! Which was perfect timing, because suddenly there were missions on top of missions. You felt you were fully back to your old self.

You and Aaron remained close. The original awkwardness from your break up gone, and you found him to be one of your closest friends. You even gave him advice and helped him pick out an outfit for his date with his now girlfriend Danielle. You were happy he was finding love.

After your talk with Bucky, there was no longer any awkwardness between you. You both kept it professional both on and off missions. You worked so in sync together out on the field, that it made sense to keep partnering you up. Bucky also started coming to your weekly dinners!

Your conversations were usually short, when alone, and mostly about work. As time progressed you started talking about other things as well, like how your days were going, what new restaurant the other should try, and what books you have been reading. You slowly merged from just teammates to friends.

You started to hang out with Bucky and the rest of the team more often, out of the compound, mostly at bars and clubs. You would flirt with guys, but nothing ever came of it. When the night was over, Bucky would always walk you to your car, or walk you to your apartment. The first several times that happened, you said goodnight and separated without another thought. However, after awhile, you would hug before going your separate ways.

You would be lying to yourself if you said that you wouldn’t get those butterflies every time you met his eyes, or smelled his cologne, and especially when he would hug you good night. You kept telling yourself that you weren’t ready to trust him with your heart, and you didn’t know if you ever will.

One night you came to the compound for movie night. You found yourself sitting next to Bucky on the love seat while Steve put on his choice of movie, “Forrest Gump”. About half way through the movie you felt your eyes getting heavy. You felt yourself curl up into Bucky’s side and before you knew it you were asleep. 

When the movie ended, Bucky picked you up from the couch and brought you into your old room. He placed you on the bed, and pulled the comforter over you. He looked at you for a moment, then leaned over and kissed your forehead before leaving you alone to sleep.

You woke up the next morning disoriented, but quickly recognized your old room. How did you get here? The last thing you remember is curling up against Bucky on the loveseat. You head toward the kitchen to find Steve and Bucky. Bucky was making pancakes, and Steve was sitting at the table reading his newspaper.

“Good morning boys” you said as you walked into the kitchen. Steve lowered the paper and smiled at you. “Morning, Y/N. Sleep well?”

You smiled. “Yea, actually I did. I missed that bed.” You turned and looked at Bucky, who had turned around. “Morning doll. Pancakes?”

Your heart starts to flutter at the old nickname you proudly owned when you were his. It had been so long since you heard it. “Oh... Uh... yea. Sure. Thank you bab- uh Buck.” You curse yourself for almost calling him “babe”. You sit at the table and ignore Steve’s smirk.

After breakfast you head back to your apartment. The more time you spent at the compound, the more you hated coming back here alone. You missed your friends, and the compound. You wondered how long the lease was good for? 

__________________________________________

The team was over for your weekly dinner at the apartment. You all sat around the table talking about everything and anything. You loved this time with your family. You finally realized that you didn’t want to wait for the lease. 

“Hey Tony?” You look at the head of the table, where he sat. “I was thinking, I miss being home, at the compound, and I was wondering if I could come back. We could sell this place, and I’m sure someone will take the furniture. What do you think?”

The whole table went quiet. You looked at your friends, who all looked shocked, then happy by your statement. You look at Tony, who had the biggest smile on his face. 

“Nothing would make me happier than to have you come home, kiddo.” Everyone cheered! You were so excited to finally go home. You had lived on your own for almost 8 months at this point, and you didn’t want to do it anymore.

Bucky looked at you from across the table. “I could come and help you move stuff tomorrow, if you want doll.” Once again your heart fluttered at the nickname, and you blushed. Everyone at the table saw your reaction and gave a knowing smirk.

You look at Bucky, who smiled softly at you. “Oh, well I can’t tomorrow, Buck. I... uh... I have a date.” Bucky’s face quickly turned from happy to devastated to emotionless.

“Oh. Well nevermind then.” He said, no emotion in his words. You know he was hurting, and was trying to protect himself. Suddenly he stood up. “I think I’m going to go. I suddenly feel really tired.”

He heads out the front door. You quickly get up and run after him, closing the front door behind you. “Bucky, wait!” you called after him. He was already half way down the hall. He stops, but doesn’t turn around, you run up to him. You sigh, “talk to me.”

He turns around, and you see tears running down his face. You are taken aback by this. “What do you want me to say?” You look down for a moment, and then look back into his eyes.

“I don’t know, tell me how you feel about this?” He looks at you for a moment, then looks at the floor, sniffing.

“I feel like you just ripped my heart out, but I know I am not allowed to feel that way, and I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, then looks at you. “I thought we were making progress. I thought I was earning your trust back, and now the hear you are going out on a date... I just feel like you are giving up on me... on us.”

You go to say something, but he interrupts. “I know. I know I don’t have the right to say that. I hurt you so badly. I know. I can’t help how I feel, and I’m sorry. I’ll just go. Enjoy your date.” He quickly turns and walks away, before you get a word in.

You stand in the hallway, fighting back tears, wanting to run after him. Instead you wipe your tears, and head back into your apartment with the rest of your friends. They all give you a sympathetic look, but you shake your head. You didn’t want to talk about it.

When the night was over, you were cleaning up your kitchen, when Nat walked in with more dishes. “Everyone left, but I thought I would stay and help you clean up.” You look at her with a knowing smirk.

“Stay and help clean up, or talk about what happened tonight with Bucky?” She smirked at you, because she knew you knew what her plan was. She sits on the stool by your counter and looks at you.

“You looked pretty upset when you walked back in.” You nod. “He told me that he felt like I ripped out his heart, and that he understood that he couldn’t feel that way, but he did.”

You shake your head. “I shouldn’t, but I felt bad for him. And I don’t know why? After everything that happened between us, I deserve to date other people and see if there is someone else out there for me. But.... why do I feel so guilty?” You look at Nat.

She gets up off the stool and stands next you, giving you a glass of wine she just poured. “Because you still love him, and the thought of hurting him... hurts you.”

You take a sip of the wine. “But he hurt me, and it didn’t seem to bother him.” You take another sip to distract you from the tears. You were so tired of crying.

Nat sat back on the stool. “You know that is not true. I mean, yes, he was a complete asshole. Bringing that girl around, flaunting it in your face. But when you left for rehab... he completely lost it. He knew how much he hurt you, and he couldn’t take it.” You look at her and go to speak, but she raises her hand to stop you.

“I am not excusing anything he did. Like I said, complete asshole. I wanted to literally kill him, but Steve wouldn’t let me.” You both laugh. Then she gets a sincere look on her face.

“But... you forgave him. You kissed him. You started over. First as teammates and now friends. I know you talk to him more than me. I see you two texting all the time. It only seems natural for him to think you were heading down the path back together. Tonight showed him, that maybe you’re not.”

You think about what Nat just said. “Am I wrong? For going out on this date?” Sat smiled at you. “Absolutely not. You are single, and have the right to date anyone you want. My question to you is, do you want to date someone other than him?”

Nat gave you a hug, said goodnight and left your apartment.

__________________________________________

That night you couldn’t sleep. Every time you closed your eyes you saw Bucky’s tear stained face. You kept replaying Nat’s words over and over. Did you want to date other guys? Did you want to continue moving with Bucky towards reconciliation? You tossed and turned until finally you gave up trying. 

The next night you were putting the finishing touches of your make up, when you heard a knock at your door. You looked at your phone and saw that Brad was a little early. You check yourself in the mirror quickly and head to open the door.

You open the door and freeze, shocked. “Bucky.” you whisper. He is standing there out of breath. “Y/N. I need to say this real quick before you go out on your date.” You just stand there, staring at him, but don’t let him inside.

“I love you. I will always love you. I know I hurt you in the past, and you don’t know if you can trust me, I get it, but... I know deep in my heart that we are supposed to be together. I think you know it too.” He takes a breath.

“I... I have been trying to gain your trust back, and I know it may take a long time to get it. But, I swear on everything I am, that I will never hurt you like that ever again. The thought of it makes me want to kill myself.” You raise a brow at him.

“I saw what happened when I hurt you, and I will do whatever it takes to prevent you from every looking or feeling like that again. If it’s too late then tell me now and I will leave and never bring this up again. But, if there is still a chance we could get back together, I am begging you.. to please... not go on this date.”

He looks at you with pleading eyes. You open your mouth to say something, when you hear, “Uh, am I interrupting something?” You peer out your door and see Brad, standing in your hallway with flowers. You look from Brad to Bucky, then Bucky to Brad.

“Buck...” You say, looking at him. “I’m sorry.” You quickly grab your purse and close your door. You walk toward Brad, without giving Bucky a glance. You and Brad head down the hall toward your elevator. As you are standing there waiting for it, you think about everything Bucky said, and what Nat said. You turn and look at Brad.

“Brad... the man there in the hall, he is my ex... and I’m sorry, but... I’m still in love with him. I don’t want to go out with you and possibly lead you on. So I know it’s rude to do this last minute, but I have to cancel our date.”

You give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “I hope you understand.” With that the elevator door opens. Brad looks at you with a small smile, a nod, and walks into the elevator. When the doors close, you quickly turn around and run back towards your apartment. 

You see Bucky sitting against your door with his head in his hands. You slow down, and walk over. You slide down the wall next to him and lean your head on his shoulder. You feel him tense for a second, before leaning into you. You take his hands away from his face. You see tears streaming down. He looks at you.

“You... you came back. Why?” You smile and kiss him softly on the lips. “Because, even though I am not ready to be with you yet, I know I don’t want to be with anyone else.”

__________________________________________

Chapter 9   Epilogue

That’s it. I think I may do an epilogue, but I am not sure. What do you all think? Is the reader stupid for putting her heart in Bucky’s hands again? I personally feel that he will protect her heart this time, but maybe I am just a hopeless romantic. Leave your thoughts and tell me if you want a epilogue.

Thanks for all the great comments and likes on my first post, series, everything! It really means so much to me. I can’t wait to write more for you guys!

#bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky fic

[thejudgingtrash]

Now hold up I would personally love to hear a full rant on this supposed adaptation I have never heard of until now. Like, legitimately, I wanna know what you have to say about this cause you seem to be one of the most valid PJO blogs

Uhhh what??? Me one of the most valid PJO blogs??? What kinda crack have you been smoking WHAT afahsgjskdh.

But still thank you 😊🥺🙈

Alright, you wanted a rant. You got a rant. Fuck the positives let’s just straight up jump into my aggression.

WARNING: Massive rant with a lot of swear words. If you can’t handle the heat, feel free to ignore this. I personally haven’t worked in Hollyweird, but I had some behind the scenes stuff here in Europe going on for a short period and also the trusty words of my college professors. So here will be a lot of prediction and speculation involved. Yes, I know that I’m a huge hypocrite for voicing my opinions based on stuff that hasn’t been pushed through in months and that I could be easily proven wrong in a few weeks/months. Still thank you should you actually take the time to read through this tomfuckery.

If things are wrong, please DO correct me!

Links to further reads will be included partially.

TL;DR: Keep your hopes to a low, stop harassing people online and mAnAgE yOuR eXpEcTaTiOnS!!111!!

Okay. First things first:

DISNEY

DOESN’T

GIVE

A

SINGLE

FUCK

ABOUT

YOU

Disney is a fucking multi-billion dollar corporation with many, many, many studios, stations, brands and franchises worldwide. The Percy Jackson franchise is a dime in a dozen. Disney doesn’t give a single fuck about the PJO fandom in general.

Disney doesn’t give a fuck about you 20-something year old with your 9 year old blog discussing which toilet paper brand Percy uses. And Disney also doesn’t give a fuck about you 16 year old, writing the worst fucking Solangelo fanfic I’ve read so far on this hellsite. Like goddamn.

Trust me, they know you are interested. They know they got you hooked. They see the numbers, they see the like/reblog ratio, they see the Twitter engagement. They see you with #disneyadaptpercyjackson. They see the petitions, they see how excited you were for the musical. You don’t get to be a gigantic conglomerate like Disney with playing stupid.

Also to you fuckfarts saying oH nO I wOn’T wAtCh It I dOn’T cArE aBoUt NeW sTuFf. Congrats dipshit. You are STILL alerting followers and people about what’s happening and creating more buzz, giving more awareness and adding to the transaction costs. You really cheated the system, you little edgelord. Again:

You are nothing but a number. You are a fucking walking dollar bill. You are a consumer waiting for a new shiny product to fill the void in your life for 45 minutes weekly or by two hours at some point.

The PJO movies 1. & 2 happened for a reason. Because Fox saw a popular book series á la Harry Potter, Twilight (and The Hunger Games) and wanted a piece of that action. They wanted your fucking money. Them entirely fucking up and ignoring Riordan’s advice is on them of course. But still. The movies happened. (And also saw people saying they were flops. Reception wise: hell yes. They are awful adaptations (not per se awful movies, there’s a difference). But money wise?? They made together over 245 million dollars in profit. Of course, that isn’t today’s Marvel level but it’s still fairly decent. Also don’t forget that the second movie still got greenlit. Interest was still there despite part one. You disliking something doesn’t turn it into a flop)).

Again, Disney doesn’t care about you. THIS is what Disney cares about:

1. MONEY

2. PROFIT

3. ENGAGEMENT

4. TOTAL GROSS

5. CONVERSION RATES

11. …. “Artistry“

So in terms of money, we gotta speak about the on-going woke culture. You know, lgbtqia+ stuff, poc representation and all the good shit we want and need in our life, right?

Well, I got bad news for ya. Disney being money hungry has its massive downsides. Because where is the money? In the east. Well and what happens if we include the woke stuff? Possible censorships (even retroactively! You know Gravity Falls went through that), bans, etc.

So all of you talking about representation and artistic vision and being bold and brave and blablabla… Throw that into the fucking trash. We can probably be glad if we get Grover back as the token black kid and a few other minorities sprinkled here and there. Open gay Nico? Doubt it. Your afro-latino Percy head canon? Definitely keep that but unlikely to be realized. And also, if you think that Annabeth wouldn’t get turned into the blandest whitest “I dOn’T nEeD nO mAn“ radfem, I got some bad news for ya…

The likelihood of everything being dumbed down, toned down with the exception of a few adult jokes or being even partially censored (depending on certain regions) is very, very high.

Also what makes you think we’re even getting close to the Heroes of Olympus and Trials of Apollo saga? I doubt you will see The Seven for a long time unless Riordan really says fuck it and throws his final ace card into Disney’s filthy greedy mouth.

So if Disney doesn’t have the fandom’s interest at heart, what are they interested in? Well… MONEY. Also NEW engagement. They know your funky ass is going to tune in. They know people will pirate the shit (Me waving like a maniac), they all KNOW that. Again, they aren’t stupid.

So: MORE engagement. MORE money. How do we get even more engagement? By luring new people into the fandom. Who is most likely going to get lured into a family friendly show/movie series because let’s not forget that we’re talking about Disney+? The targeted audience of the books. Who is the targeted audience of the books? MIDDLE SCHOOLERS. 11 to 14 year olds. Disney wants those kids’ (well their parents’ hard earned) money. They want to sell products, in that case books + Disney Plus subscriptions + possible merch. There you also have the likely future rating for the fucking show. Sorry to disappoint everyone that was hoping for gritty Game of Thrones filled with 12 year olds (like seriously wtf?).

Now that that’s settled, let’s talk about the outlook on the show/movie and Riordan’s influence that you people clearly overestimate.

How much power or say does Rick Riordan actually have?

ZERO. ABSOLUTELY NONE.

He’s in the worst fucking lose-lose-situation you could imagine.

Disney owns the books and Fox owns the movie rights. Wait. Fox got bought. By whom you ask? DISNEY, what a coincidence! In Rick Riordan’s own words:

Disney has him by his fucking balls and could crush them at any minute. And if you think, that Disney is letting go of that sweet sweet intellectual property you are fucking mistaken. Riordan isn’t a J.K. Rowling who OWNS the Wizarding World. You have no idea what Disney are capable of with massive lobbying that goes so far to influence copyright laws in the States (LINK)

So you can stop harassing him about a fucking Netflix adaptation as well! Or petitions that do nothing but annoy people.

These negotiations take up YEARS to get the simplest stuff done. No need to shit your pants whenever Riordan’s tweeting stuff.

Still: would Disney be fucking mad to do this without him? Absolutely!

Should Disney involve him to prevent a PJO movie 2.0 scenario?

Yes, they definitely should!

But CAN Disney do this without him?

OF COURSE THEY CAN! THEY OWN EVERYTHING.

In Riordan’s own words:

Read carefully what he has written. He doesn’t say he’s going to halter productions, he’s saying HE WON’T BE A PART OF IT. This also makes me curious about WHO approached WHO in the first place (my guess Disney tried to make some amendments because Fox ain’t shit and trying to alienate the author again would be a goddamn stupid move). Disney has the fucking film rights. Of course they can pump out shit without involving him. They could pull a Fantastic Four (the awful 2015 version) just to keep the rights and for the fuck of it.

There are the following possibilities with Riordan’s involvement:

1. Riordan as a producer: Dude’s gotta be loaded. We know that. But backing the production costs many, many, many millions and I don’t know if he’s THAT loaded. Also film producing isn’t his forte.

2. Riordan as a screenplay writer: Now we’re getting closer to something. Yes, many productions these days have authors directly involved which is great! But also can go the other way around (J.K. Rowling and her Grindelwald fiasco. Author’s do NEED to learn when to stop intermeddling with their franchises, just saying) Book writing and screenplay writing are two very DIFFERENT disciplines. You don’t have the liberties of book writing when it comes to film. The screenplay is the guide for the entire production, the visuals, the set design, the whole atmosphere of the product, the very first thing that needs to be done so that directors, designers and lastly the casted actors know what they have to do. Everything has to come to a point in a very short time and there are many, many, many versions of a screenplay before a final raw draft gets handed out. If that isn’t in Riordan’s interest (which I can completely understand) then that’s simply not happening

3. Riordan as a guide: Directors, screenplay writers, etc. sit down with Riordan on a regular basis to show him the written screenplay, which actors they have in mind, the whole vision and he has a mini veto right.

If you ask me, a mix of scenario 2 and 3 is the most likely to be the most successful. That means, that Riordan needs to have a good faithful team, that sticks closely to the source material. That isn’t guaranteed! Again: look at the PJO movies. But of course, we don’t know the internals of these meetings.

So… now the final part. The whole fucking “Animation vs. Live action“ debate. Well, both sides have their pro’s and con’s. And both sides are filled with a bunch of fucking morons. I won’t try to get you to either side.

But to those that want are begging for a live action version with age-appropriate actors I have the following to say:

FUCK

YOU

IN

PARTICULAR!

WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU WANT CHILDREN TO GO THROUGH THE HELL THAT IS DISNEY AND THE SHADY SHIT GOING ON THERE SO THAT YOU CAN BE ENTERTAINED FOR SOME MERE MINUTES?!

Oh my god…. You people REALLY really want a fourth wave Me Too movement in 15-20 years. Not every Hollyweird kid has a helicopter parent hovering around them on set and many do get abused/robbed by their parents. And the people involved in the production! Of course, animation has still a chance of this happening but the risk is somewhat lower when it just comes to voice acting.

Tbh, I actually wouldn’t mind an aged-up cast again just to prevent this as best as possible. Unfortunately, child actors will always be needed.

I have nothing much to add to this, I’ll just drop a link to an old small post from me about that right here (LINK)

Personally I lean more towards animation but in the big picture I won’t care. (Also the whole animation is for kids and dumbs down the whole narrative for PJO is fucking stupid, boo boo the fool. You being in your late teens/twenties and grown out of the targeted audience is the cause of nature. Animation can be mature or would you show Attack on Titan or South Park to your 8 year old cousin?)

I’ll be just tuning in to see if this is as messy as I’d expect it to be or to be pleasantly surprised.

Also again: this process is a long one. It’s going to be exhausting, depressing, demanding, pushing.

From the meetings now that will take a very long time, to a screenplay, which can take YEARS in finalizing, to hiring staff, location hunting and set design (should they go the live action route), to casting, to costume design, to rehearsing/production, to filming, to dispersing, to editing, to fx, to finishing, to marketing, to publishing, NOTHING IS SET IN STONE! This is a very, very, very, wanky process despite contracts and everything on paper. Let’s not forget, Disney can afford some good lawyers.

And even if everything goes as smoothly as possible. Higher up people could see the final edit of everything with editors having scenes close to the books in an a/b/c/d cut and some producer says NO! I want an c/a/b/d version that again fucks up the dynamics of the books. Or something terrible: everything is shot and done and THEN it get’s postponed. Or even fucking worse: SHELVED to be NEVER RELEASED. Aka Henry Selick’s career after Coraline (Coraline from 2009 is STILL his latest release because of his fucked up Disney contract and them cancelling his shit). Millions of dollars wasted and we won’t get to see ANYTHING. This is all very possible and happens constantly in the film business AND at Disney. This is nothing new.

And there’s nothing we can do about it. No one cares about Riordan, no one cares about the books, no one cares about the fandom.

DISNEY holds the cards. DISNEY gets to decide. Neither Riordan, nor you nor me hold ANY power in this.

So kids… what have we learned today? In conclusion:

Keep your hopes to a low, stop harassing people online and mAnAgE yOuR eXpEcTaTiOnS!!111!!

That’s it. That’s all I wanted to say.

WHEW.

#percy jackson and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson movie #percy jackson #percy jackson adaptation #disney #disney adapt percy jackson #annabeth chase #grover underwood #nico di angelo #rick riordan #riordanverse #my rants

[dstudiouk]

Weekly Studio Spotlight - Sara Haslam

A fresh week means a fresh feature! Get those fanfares going... it’s Artist of The Week time. This week, we’re featuring Sara Haslam. A traditional artist based in the UK with a distinctively unique style that really separates her work from the rest. We loved getting to know Sara and her work this week, definitely one of our favourites! 

As you know by now, we interview our chosen artists each week with a fun Q&A about them and their work. If you’ve ever wondered what TV series our artists like to binge watch... carry on reading! 

What inspired you when growing up?

My Dad's cousin was an author/illustrator, and there was a book she illustrated that I really loved. So when I was little I always said that I wanted to be an author/illustrator too. I became less interested in the writing part as I got older, but stayed interested in illustration and art. I think I was also inspired by various cartoons and anime that I watched on TV, and I used to enjoy drawing some of those characters.

How did you start your art career? 

I studied art at A level, and then went on to study Computer Animation at university. After I graduated, I went back to a style of art that I first did at school – portraits drawn over torn brown paper. I put a few up for sale on eBay, in the hopes of making a bit of money whilst I looked for a “proper” job. To my surprise, people actually wanted to buy them! From there I did a few commissions, and then decided to start selling prints, so I set up shops on Etsy and a few other online retailers. It took a while to build up a momentum of sales, but it’s now reached a stage where I can make a consistent income from my art, which is amazing really. I never would have expected other people to want my artwork in their homes.

What’s your favourite piece you have created so far? 

I find it difficult to judge my own work, but there are a couple that come to mind. I think my John Lennon portrait might be the piece which is technically my best. I believe I managed to reach a decent level of realism, whilst not getting too carried away making sure every single hair was in the right place. I was particularly pleased with how the highlights on his hair turned out, and the level of detail around his eyes.

Another favourite is my “I May Destroy You” piece. It was quite a challenge for me because it was the first picture I’d drawn in colour marker pens rather than greyscale, and it was much smaller than I had worked previously. I surprised myself by drawing it in just a few days, and managing to get in all the tiny details on her face and clothing. It was really fun to draw something a bit different for a change.

What art tools could you not live without? 

A pencil! I use Copic marker pens for most of my work, so I could say those, but I think I could switch to another medium like acrylic paints or watercolour, and it wouldn't affect me too much. However without a simple pencil, I'm not sure if I would be able to create anything very good. I have to spend a long time sketching everything out before I go over it in pen. For what it's worth my preferred pencils to use are the cheap mechanical ones. Mechanical because they create a thin line which is easier to hide, and cheap because the fancy ones over-complicate things and always end up breaking.

What is your biggest challenge with your work? 

My biggest challenge is just getting into the right frame of mind to draw. I often have issues concentrating and can get quite restless, so I almost need to be exhausted before I can be productive. Consequently I get most of my work done in the early hours of the morning, once I eventually get into the zone. I’m also a bit of a perfectionist, which can make it difficult to actually put pen to paper incase I mess it up - you can't erase pen ink.

Who are your favourite musical artists?

This is tricky because it changes almost every week and I have so many favourites from different genres. Right now I would say Frank Ocean, The Beach Boys and Tame Impala are some of my favourites. I've only drawn Frank Ocean out of these 3 so far, so I should get working on the others!

If you could trade lives with someone for a day, who would you pick?

If I'm honest I wouldn’t like to be anyone famous, as I hate being in the spotlight. I think perhaps I would quite like to be either a professional snowboarder or a buddhist monk for the day. Or even just a normal person with a nice peaceful life on a mountain somewhere.

Other than art, what do you do to relax and unwind?

I do a quick yoga session every morning, which definitely helps me to relax. I try to meditate too, but it doesn’t happen very often and I’m not very good at it. I also love skating and snowboarding, and I go on a lot of long walks whilst listening to podcasts.

What was the last thing you watched or listened to on repeat?

I’m currently re-watching all 121 episodes of LOST, for what is I think the 5th time through.. A couple of those times have been because someone I lived with was watching it, but this time it’s only me watching so I have no excuses, I just really wanted to watch it again.

If you could give one piece of advice to another artist, what would you say to them?

The best advice I can give is to create as much art as often as you can, and not to worry about everything being perfect. (I need to take this advice too)

A massive thank-you to Sara for participating in this, we really loved her answers to these. Sooo much fun and such a fascinating look into turning a hobby into a full time career path. As always, thank-you to you, too, for reading and supporting! We’ve loved working on Artists of The Week, so do make sure to let us know you’re enjoying them too by sharing the love on our social platforms @dStudioUK and make sure you’ve checked out Sara on her platforms to see more of her incredible work! 

Sara Haslam - Instagram

Sara Haslam - Etsy

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[thomas-and-the-chocolate-factory]

Thomas and the Chocolate Factory - Chapter 1

A Sanders Sides / Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Crossover

Summary: Remus Duke is the greatest chocolatier of all time, and after living the past few years a recluse, he decides to finally open his factory once again. And it's young orphan Thomas Sanders' dream to win a ticket and get to go! Will he win a ticket? And if he does, will he make it out alive?

Masterpost

----------

Thomas Sanders was an orphan. He’d never known his parents, and had grown up in an orphanage with the many other kids there all his life. The owners of the orphanage, Dot and Larry, weren’t very wealthy. They tried their best to keep the place in good condition and give all the children the care they needed, but with every passing day, it became more apparent that the place was facing problems.

Not all the children realised as the portions of food became smaller at meals. Thomas did. Not all the children noticed as the chocolate they got weekly as a treat changed to be a monthly treat, and then changed again to a yearly one that every kid only got on their birthday. Thomas did. Not all the children noticed as things in the orphanage like the television and furniture were sold and switched out for cheaper, second-hand stuff. Thomas did. Not all the children noticed the look of relief Dot and Larry had when a child was adopted or fostered, as it meant they had one less mouth to feed. Thomas did.

So, Thomas decided to try and help out. He got an after school job doing the paper round. It didn’t earn much, but Dot and Larry were grateful all the same.

His new job meant the boy would have to pass a certain building in his town four times a day. A building that was torture for him to be near.

This building was a chocolate factory. And it was the largest in the world.

Remus Duke, the owner, was like the local town cryptid. Many in the town were once employed at his factory, where he created the most amazing candy inventions in the world. While the Duke brand chocolate bars were the signature item, other creations included ice-cream that would never melt, gum that never loses its flavour, bubblegum that can be blown to enormous sizes without popping, and more! It was incredible!

However, other chocolatiers grew envious of Remus’ booming business and ability to create things seemingly impossible. So, they sent in spies to go undercover and learn Remus’ secrets. Soon, Slugworth was releasing the ice-cream that never melted, Fickelgruber was selling gum that never lost its flavour, and Prodnose was selling the bubblegum that could be blown to enormous sizes! Remus, panicked, fired all his workers and closed his factory forever.

Forever didn’t last very long.

One day, smoke was coming from the chimneys again. Duke products were being sold at candy stores once more. Remus’ ex-employees raced to the factory, hoping to be given their jobs back. But Remus never came out from the factory to announce his return. Ever since its closure, no one had ever gone in, and no one had ever come out. No one knew who his new workers were. Apparently, shadows appeared in the windows, but no one could ever make them out.

Thomas would give anything to go into that factory. The place had fascinated him ever since he first heard the story of it. He wanted to know how Remus created the things he did, he wanted to know who the workers were, and he wanted to have the chance to try all of the Duke products he could. The only thing he’d ever tried were the chocolate bars he got for his birthday.

That’s why it was torture for him to walk past. As he walked from the orphanage to school, from the school to the news office, from the news office to the houses subscribed to the paper, and from those houses back home, he’d pass those large gates and the smell of warm sweet chocolate would flood and override his other senses. His stomach would growl hungrily, and he’d shuffle by slowly, imagining he were eating it as well as smelling it.

Torture. But blissful torture. It was his method of escapism.

One that he really needed as food portions got smaller and smaller.

One night, he’d been getting ready for bed. Larry came into his room to say goodnight, only for Thomas to speak before he could. “Larry? How much longer will you be able to keep the orphanage open? And where will we go when it closes?”

Larry sighed. He walked over, sitting on the end of Thomas’ bed. “... We don’t know how much longer. But there’s an orphanage in the next town over with a lot of spare rooms and in much better condition. They’ve agreed to take you all in when the time comes.”

Thomas nodded solemnly. “Okay… What about you and Dot? What are you going to do?”

“Dot’s probably going to go back to teaching. As for myself… I’m not that sure yet. But we’ll make do. You don’t need to worry, Thomas.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“We’ll miss you too, Thomas. But it’s okay. We’re not closing this place just yet. Now get some sleep, you have school tomorrow.”

“Okay… Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Thomas. See you in the morning.”

Thomas buried himself under his thin blanket as Larry stood up, flicked off the lights, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Thomas’ eyes drifted to the window. There in the distance was the Duke factory, and the sky above it was filled with stars. And one of said stars was a shooting one, firing across the sky. As he saw it, Thomas wished with all his might that some good luck would come his way. That something would save the orphanage. That he’d get a new life and not have to go hungry anymore.

-

“I’m home!” Patton Gloop called through the bakery as he stepped inside. Only he shouted in German, obviously, given he lived in Germany.

His mother, Harley Gloop, poked her head through the doorway behind the counter that led to the kitchen. “Pat! Perfect timing, I just put in some cookies in to bake for you. I made an extra batch of dough with no eggs so you could eat it.”

Patton grinned, dropping his school bag. He ran behind the counter and into the kitchen, going right over to the bowl and digging in with the spoon. Mm, it was so good! He really needed this…

Patton hadn’t had the greatest day at school that day… He’d had PE, his least favourite lesson.

Patton was fat. He knew the word had bad connotations, but he didn’t think it should. He liked his body!

Well… he tried to. But it was hard to stay positive when no one else seemed to like his body.

He didn’t get bullied necessarily, but… People would tease him, call him nicknames like ‘butterball’, ‘chubs’ and things like that. He knew most people meant it in an endearing fun way, but it could still hurt sometimes.

However, one person who always meant for it to be taken seriously and hurtfully: his PE teacher. The guy was a… was a b-hole.

I know, it sounds very harsh, but it’s true. Due to Patton’s weight, he decided to force him to work a lot harder than any of the other kids. Patton would have to do exercises double time, put all the equipment away after the lesson on his own, sprint when the other students were told to jog, and jog when other students had to walk, and multiple times had been worked to the point he was physically sick. One of his best friends, Terrence, often found himself knelt beside him, comforting him as his breakfast came back up.

Little did Mr Wyatt, the PE teacher, know, said actions just enabled Patton and made him eat more. Because that’s what Patton did when sad: eat! It made him feel so much better; the delicious tastes distracted him from the bad feelings and made him feel bright and happy! Which is why he was so happy to be having this delicious cookie dough.

“So, honey, how was your day?” Harley asked, finishing up icing a cake to put in one of the display cases for the next day.

“It was good.” Patton didn’t like telling his mum what happened to him in PE. It would make her sad and angry, and he didn’t want to feel the bad feelings he did. “Terrence and I were talking about having another sleepover soon! I’m on snack duty as usual. I know both our favourites, after all. I think it’s going to be at Terrence’s this time.”

“You know what date yet?”

“Not yet. Hopefully soon, I can’t wait!”

Harley smiled, kissing his head as she passed him, taking the cake to the front of the store. “Why don’t you take that dough up with you to the apartment, get in your onesie and pick out a movie. Once the cookies are done, I’ll bring them up and we’ll watch it together.”

“Okay!” Patton picked up the bowl, running upstairs to his and his mother’s flat above the shop. It was small, but neither of them minded. It was all the two of them needed, and they were happy in it. He put the bowl down on the coffee table, before running to his room. “Hey, Toby!”

Toby, Patton’s dog, yawned awake from where he was curled up in his bed. Patton gave the dog a quick hug before going to his wardrobe and pulling out his grey cat onesie. Once he’d changed into it, he whistled for Toby to follow him, before leaving the room, returning to the lounge. He scooped up another spoonful of cookie dough, before going over to the DVD shelf.

“Hm… which one…?”

Patton looked over them a little longer, before smiling and pulling a DVD from the shelf. Winnie the Pooh was his favourite movie, but this was his favourite documentary. Well, by ‘favourite’, I mean the only one he actually liked and was interested in. It was all about the Duke factory, detailing the rise, fall and resurgence of it. Though, Patton didn't care much for the mystery side of the factory’s history. He just liked watching the candies, sweets and chocolates being produced. It looked so delicious, and always made him desperate to go out and buy a bunch of Duke chocolate - it was his favourite, after all.

Patton ran to the TV stand, putting the DVD into the player, before returning to the sofa. Toby immediately jumped up and curled up on his lap. Patton petted the dog’s head, before picking the bowl of cookie dough back up and digging back in. Soon, it was empty. With perfect timing, his mother came in holding a plate of cookies just as Patton put the bowl back on the coffee table. Harley sighed, smiling, as she saw what DVD Patton had chosen. “Why am I not surprised…?”

Patton giggled, taking a cookie from the plate. “You know how much I love Duke chocolate; it’s the best ever!” He smiled, turning back to the screen and pressing play on the remote. “I’d give anything to get a lifetime supply or see inside, or anything like that.”

That would be nice. Maybe, if he got to go and see inside, he wouldn’t be picked on anymore because everyone would want to be his friend to hear his story of what’s inside. Or, if he got a lifetime supply, everyone would want to be his friend so they could have some.

Either way, he’d get a lot of friends. And that would make him happy.

-

“Daddy, I’m home!”

Roman Salt called through the mansion as he stepped inside, the butler having let him in after driving him home from school. He pulled off his fur coat and handed it to said butler, waiting for his father to come in and greet him. He waited… and waited… and-

There were the footsteps. He turned to the person coming into the entrance hall, and his face soured. It was neither of his parents. Instead it was his nanny, Pryce.

“Welcome home, Roman. Now, I-”

“Where’s my father?”

Pryce sighed. “Roman, your father is on a very important business call in his office, and it will probably last for the rest of the day, so-”

“The rest of the day?!” Roman almost screeched. “My performance is tonight! He’s seriously missing it?!”

“Yes, he is. I’m sorry, Roman, but I’ll be taking you in-”

“This is unfair, he’d better be able to properly make it up to me! If not I’ll SCREAM!”

Before Pryce could respond, Roman was storming off in the direction of his dad’s office. Pryce chased after him, calling for him to stop and calm down, but Roman’s temper was a fire that could not be put out. He slammed open the door, causing his father, Romulus Salt, to almost jump out of his chair.

“YOU AREN’T COMING TO MY SHOW?!”

Romulus muttered to himself, before turning to his laptop. “I’ll be back in a moment.” He muted the call, before standing and turning to his son. “Roman, let me explain-”

“DON’T! I don’t want to hear an excuse! What I want is retribution!”

Romulus sighed, knowing what was coming. He put on a smile. “I’ll get you whatever you want, sweetheart.”

“Good! I want a horse. Valerie said she got one for her birthday, and they’re so much better than my stupid ponies. She may be my best friend, but I cannot let her show me up. Also, I would like a new mink coat - the fur’s getting all matted on my current one.”

“Of course, my little pri-”

“I’m not done! I want you to get a professional dressmaker to make me personal, high quality replicas of all the Disney Princess dresses. They need to be good, not like some cheap dress-up thing from a Disney store.”

“Okay, Ro, I’ll make sure you get all those things as soon as possible.”

“...Good.” Roman turned and left the office, head held high, the smuggest possible look on his face.

Once the door was closed, Romulus sighed in relief. Peace and quiet, once again. He took a moment, enjoying the calmness, before sitting back down behind his desk. He unmuted himself from the call, and returned his focus to business.

Roman, on the other hand, found Pryce once again, and gestured for him to follow him to his room. “I need to look my best for the show tonight, I need you to do my makeup. BUT!” He turned on his heels, glaring up at his nanny. “If you ruin any of my palettes, lipsticks,  anything … I’ll make sure daddy has you fired.”

Pryce nodded. “Of course. I’ll be very careful, Roman, I promise.”

“You’d better hold to that promise.” Roman led the way into his bedroom, sitting down at his dressing table, which was laden with more makeup than most people would buy in a lifetime. “Right, I’m playing a prince, so I need to look as handsome as possible, obviously - though to be fair, you don’t really need to do much to make that the case. A red and gold colour scheme is best, as my costume is white, red and gold. Make sure it’s bold enough to stand out on stage, but not to the point where it’s too unnatural and weird looking.”

Pryce nodded, already planning out the look in his head. Thanks to working with Roman for so long, he was an expert at creating very high quality makeup looks and then applying them fast. The boy had very high standards, and Pryce knew if he didn’t meet them, he would be fired. And he couldn’t let that happen - the pay was extremely good. So, Pryce had to bring out his skills now, and make sure not to comment on how extreme Roman’s makeup request was for what was just an amateur school play performed by a bunch of ten and eleven year olds.

Well, Roman did like to stand out and be the centre of attention.

Eventually, Pryce finished. He stepped back as Roman turned to his mirror. Pryce waited with bated breath, before Roman hummed. “It’s acceptable.” He picked up a hairbrush and hairspray, handing them to Pryce. “Now do my hair. It needs to be neat, and enough hairspray to hold all evening, but not so much that it will take ages to wash out.”

Pryce held back a sigh, starting to brush Roman’s hair. ‘Don’t worry, Pryce…’ he thought to himself reassuringly. ‘When you finally put your creative writing degree to good use and write a book and get it published, you can quit and move away...’

Roman raised an eyebrow as he noticed Pryce wasn’t quite focussed. He folded his arms, clearing his throat. When that failed to get Pryce’s attention, his expression soured. “PRYCE! Focus!!!”

Pryce started, face flushing. “S-sorry…” He drew his focus back to what he was doing. When he was done, Roman gave a nod which translated to ‘acceptable’.

Roman stood. “We need to get going if we’re going to get there on time. You packed me a dinner to have at school, correct?”

Pryce nodded. “I’ll go grab it from the kitchen and meet you in the entrance hall.” He held the door open for Roman, letting him past. Roman didn’t thank him, heading down to the entrance hall.

“Butler!” he called. He’d never bothered to learn any of the staff’s names apart from Pryce’s, since Pryce was the one who practically raised him.

The butler came in. “Yes, Master Salt?”

“Get my coat.”

“Which one, Master Salt?”

“Hm… the leopard print one, please.”

The butler nodded, heading to the coat room. Roman’s patience wore thin very quickly, as it usually did. When the butler came back, he snatched the coat. “Took you long enough.” He pulled the coat on. “You’ll need to drive Pryce and I to school. He’ll be here in a minute.”

When Pryce finally came in, Roman snatched the bag that contained his dinner away from him immediately. “Be a little faster next time.” He opened the bag, humming as he looked over its contents. Pasta, garlic bread, and for dessert, a Duke chocolate bar. He nodded. “Acceptable. Now, let’s go!” He turned and left the mansion, Pryce and the butler promptly following.

-

It was all down to this. The teams were tied. The Bayshore Little League team had one batter left. They needed a homerun. Luckily, it was their best player who was stepping up to the plate.

Logan Beauregarde narrowed his eyes at the pitcher, blowing a bubble with the gum in his mouth. He sucked the bubble back in as he raised his bat, gaze focused on the ball in the pitcher’s hand.

The pitcher threw the ball, and as it neared, Logan swung his bat as hard as he could, hitting right on target. The ball was sent flying, and he took off running. He reached first base as the ball had landed and stopped rolling, was at second by the time one of the fielders got to it, reached third as the ball was thrown back near the diamond. It was a race to home base.

He skidded to a stop at the base just before the catcher caught the ball.

Cheers rang out from the home team’s dugout as well as the stand where the team’s family and friends were. Bayshore had won! The team ran out from the dugout, all going into a hug on the field. Logan beamed with pride as his teammates and coach all started cheering him, calling him awesome and the best player. He knew it to be true, but that didn’t change the fact he liked to hear it. However, he knew he couldn’t stay for long; he had somewhere to be. He pushed through the crowd, heading towards the stands, which his dad was coming down from.

“Lo! Oh, you did amazingly, I’m so proud!” Teal Beauregarde smiled, hugging his son close.

“Um, Dad? Hugging… You know I don’t really like hugging…”

“Oh, right. Sorry.” Teal pulled away. “But you really did do great.”

“Thank you…” Logan paused, looking around. “Where’s Pa?”

“Oh, he, um…”

Logan sighed. “He didn’t come again?”

“He was probably busy with work. But hey, you know he’ll be really happy when he hears you won!”

“True...”

Teal sighed, trying to think of a way to cheer his son up, before remembering something. “Hey, I ran into Joan earlier. I said maybe they could come round and you two could have a sleepover tonight. We could order pizza, you can watch movies, play video games-”

“Can’t. Busy.”

“Huh?”

“Dad, you know the high school asked me to fill in for a missing member of their mathletes team, and then after that, tonight, I have a chess tournament.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. Tomorrow night, then?”

“I have astronomy club, a soccer match and then karate. And before you say the day after, I have robotics club and then ice skating. Now I need to go get changed into my mathlete uniform, Pa’ll probably be here soon to take me there and I need to be ready.”

Logan turned and was about to walk away, when Teal caught his hand before kneeling down in front of him so he was the boy’s height. “Lo, you don’t get too overwhelmed, do you?”

Logan’s eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You do so much in a week, every week. So much extracurricular, so many competitions… Promise me you’ll let me know if it’s ever too much, okay?”

Logan responded with a simple eye roll accompanied with a slightly cocky smirk. “Dad. I’m a world record holding gum chewer; I’ve been asked to fill in for a high school mathletes team when I’m still in the 5th grade; I currently hold the title of the champion of the under elevens national chess championship, a title which I’ll defend tonight; and I could go on with a bunch of my other achievements. Trust me, I can never get overwhelmed by a workload. Remember the motto Pa gave me? ‘Win or die trying’. I’m sticking to it.”

And with that, he turned and walked off towards the changing rooms, blowing a bubble with his gum as he went. Teal sighed as he watched his son leave. He often worried Logan was a little too confident for his own good. Teal wished he had the guts to talk with his husband about what he was teaching their son...

Logan, meanwhile, quickly got changed, before heading back out, only this time leaving the field and going to the sidewalk, where he quickly found his Pa’s car parked. He ran over, before climbing in the passenger seat.

Anton Beauregarde turned to him as the boy climbed in. “Did you win?”

“Yes, I did.”

“Good,” Anton nodded. “Still got your gum?”

“Yes, I do.”

Anton nodded again, before starting the car. As he pulled away from the curb, he started talking again. “It’s very important you win this round of mathletes tonight. You need to get through to the quarter finals, since that’s televised.”

“I’m not aiming to get into the quarter finals,” Logan replied. “I’m aiming to win the finals. And before you say it, yes, I’m aiming to keep my chess championship title. Don’t worry, my motivation hasn’t waned.”

His father didn’t respond, so Logan assumed Anton had heard all he wanted to hear. Logan turned, looking out the window, absentmindedly blowing another bubble.

Logan’s pa had always been… hard to please. He wasn’t the affectionate type, a trait Logan appeared to adopt from him over his development. This led to Logan quickly learning that he would gain praise - the closest thing Anton gave to affection - if he made his father proud by being high achieving and being, well, a winner. So, at school, Logan threw himself into academic studies. He quickly climbed to the top of his classes, and started taking academic extracurriculars. It didn’t do much. So, he started going outside of his comfort zones, dipping into different sports. Baseball, soccer, karate, ice skating, gymnastics. Still nothing. So he decided to do something big: break a world record.

Breaking the world record for the longest time spent chewing the same stick of gum was an obvious choice. Logan liked gum - he often chewed it while working to stop himself fidgeting. The current record was only three months, something he knew he could easily beat. So, he went to a candy store and bought a stick of Duke brand gum, specifically the gum that never loses its flavour. Not losing the fruity taste to bland nothingness would make it easier.

Three months and a day later, he was awarded a certificate saying he was now a world record holder, which was hung up in the living room to this day. Anton finally started acknowledging his son’s achievements and started getting more involved in Logan’s life. Logan could have given up gum chewing then… but he’d gotten kind of addicted. And what if someone broke the record and he lost his pa’s respect? So he kept chewing, and hadn’t stopped since.

And he was happy. Yeah… he was happy.

-

“Virgil! Virgil!”

Virgil Teevee’s eyes did not leave the TV. He didn’t even hear the voice calling his name to be fair - he had a headset on, his ears filled with the noises from the game he was playing as well as the voices of the people he was playing online with.

“Shoot, I’m out of ammo…” he mumbled as his character pressed his trigger to no avail. “Can you guys cover me while I try to find more ammo?”

“Sure,” one of the guys he was playing with - Andy - replied. “Also, here. Not much ammo left in it, but it should last until you find more.” Andy’s character dropped a handgun in front of Virgil’s.

“Thanks.”

“VIRGIL!!!”

This time, Virgil heard. He pulled off his headset, before calling, “What?!”

His mother’s voice called back. “We have to get going, come on!”

Virgil immediately paled. “Um… go where…?”

His mother, Linda Teevee came in, pulling on a cardigan. “We have that meeting with your teacher, remember? I reminded you this morning.”

Virgil felt like he was going to be sick. He knew his grades had been dropping. He knew he hadn’t done 90% of the homework assignments that he had been set so far this year. He knew he barely paid attention in class, just sitting in terror that he’d be called on to answer a question. This was going to be the worst meeting with the teacher of his life.

He needed to prepare.

He left the game, turning off the TV, before running upstairs to his room. He pulled on his sneakers first, before he grabbed his largest pair of soundproof headphones, as well as his phone and Nintendo Switch. He plugged the headphones into his phone, started playing music, and turned up the volume. He slipped a game cartridge into the Switch, turning it on, and starting to play. He left his room, heading downstairs, not lifting his eyes from the console in his hands.

This was his plan. This was how he was going to get through this whole evening. Just ignore everything and bury himself in Mario Kart and Animal Crossing and the other games he had for his Switch.

It had worked before, and would likely work again.

Linda didn’t bat an eye as she saw Virgil come in head down, glued to the screen. Over the years, she had gotten used to his apparent gaming addiction. If anything, she encouraged it. His games kept him out of trouble.

Linda remembered when Virgil was younger… He was such a handful! When he was in kindergarten, she felt like she was called in every other day because Virgil had a screaming match that led to him being sick. Then, when he started elementary school, she kept having to come in because Virgil passed out in lesson, apparently due to getting extremely panicked when called on, leading to him hyperventilating and being unable to breathe.

But then he started getting into video games. Suddenly, he was calmer, much more reserved, and kept out of trouble. She didn’t have to come running to pick him up from school on a regular basis anymore.

So, she got him the consoles and games he wanted, and left him to his own devices. She was happy, her son was happy. It was good all around.

“Come on, then, lets go,” she said despite knowing full well Virgil couldn’t hear her. She left the house, Virgil trailing behind. They climbed into the car, before heading off.

Linda didn’t bother to try and start a conversation with her son as they drove up to the school. She knew by now that he always kept his music up so loud he couldn’t hear anyone. 

And she was right. To Virgil, the journey up to school, the meeting with his teacher, and the journey home all blended together. Whatever happened during the meeting, Virgil knew it couldn’t be good, so he purposefully stayed ignorant. When they got home, he wordlessly went up to his room before his mom could try and question him about what was said by his teacher. He turned off his Switch, before getting out his laptop. On it, he returned to the game he had been playing before he left the house.

“Hey, Verge, where’d you go?” Andy’s voice spoke as Virgil turned his mic back on.

“Had some stuff. Doesn’t matter, I’m back now. What’d I miss?”

“Missy choked on his Duke chocolate bar after his brother scared him.”

Virgil chuckled. “Missy, you need to get Pranks under control…”

Missy mumbled incoherently in annoyance, Virgil and Andy laughing.

Talking to his friends online was the best thing, Virgil thought. Even better than having real life friends. Real life friends judge you based on your appearance and popularity. Online, all that mattered was whether you were good enough at gaming, and if you were, boom, you're in a group who’ll invite you to play no matter what. They couldn’t see Virgil and what a mess he could be. All they knew about him was what he told them. And they liked what they knew of him.

And that was good enough for him.

-

To be continued

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#sanders sides #thomas sanders #character thomas #patton sanders #sanders sides patton #logan sanders #sanders sides logan #roman sanders #sanders sides roman #virgil sanders #sanders sides virgil #remus sanders #sanders sides remus #fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides au #chapter 1 #dot cartoon therapy #larry cartoon therapy #harley sanders #king creativity #teal sanders #anton sanders #andy sanders #missy sanders #pranks sanders #pryce sanders

[woodelf68]

Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out

My long-promised homage to @worryinglyinnocent‘s Playtime ‘verse, because she managed to write fifty installments without doing hippies, and I had to rectify that. Also my contribution to @rumbelleishope. Rated E. 

***

The large cardboard box bearing items from the estate sale was like a time capsule from the late 1960s. Gold sorts through the items, fond memories of his early childhood stirred by such things as the beaded curtain and concert posters and the heavy stack of albums, their cardboard covers worn along the edges but still bright with the distinctive graphics of the era. The Who, Jefferson Airplane, Country Joe and the Fish, Iron Butterfly. Donovan, too, Glasgow-born like himself. He can hear them in his head, like a soundtrack to the Summer of Love, and he wonders if Belle will like any of them. He’s fairly certain that she’ll like the clothes, and holds up a loose, flowing smock with wide sleeves and delicate flowers embroidered around the neckline and hem.  It’s a pretty thing, and he can easily see Belle wearing it, hopes that she’ll want to.

Methodically he sorts through the contents of the box, dividing everything into three piles. One to be priced and sold – the two posters were what had drawn him to bid on this lot in the first place, and he knows that he can sell them for a pretty penny – one of things he thinks Belle might be interested in, and one of a few items of clothing that he looks at doubtfully, unsure if he wants them to fit or not. But he thinks of Belle in the short dress, thinks of surprising her with a scenario they haven’t played out yet, knows he won’t regret any temporary feelings of silliness at wearing what are, after all, fairly normal clothes compared to some of the things he’s put on for her. Making up his mind, he goes into the shop’s small bathroom and locks the door.

Several minutes later he’s studying his reflection, and surprisingly not feeling too ridiculous. although he would die of embarrassment if anyone other than Belle were to see him wearing a suede leather vest adorned with long fringes. But the undyed linen shirt with the open neck and band collar is soft and comfortable, and if it’s a little too big, it’s not overly so, and he can roll up the sleeves. Same with the trousers, he’s sure that the flare-legged rust denim was originally meant to fit a bit more tightly than they do on his frame, but although he knows that Belle would no doubt appreciate that, he’s gotten used to more freedom of movement. With a belt and the cuffs turned up if he doesn’t want them to drag on the ground, the jeans fit well enough. The clothes remind him of his childhood, those years after he had been taken in by his aunts, where he had learned the feeling of security, and being wanted, and what it was like to be praised and encouraged instead of constantly belittled. Whether it’s the warm memories associated with the era, or simply the fact that he knows his ten year old self would have loved to have had a fringed leather vest, he’s satisfied with his image.  Now all he has to do is suggest a scene. He thinks about it as he changes back into his suit and tucks the vintage garments into a bag. The shop is small, and would be easily decorated, but far too public for more than a quickie. The large Victorian house filled with fine antiques is not right at all. That leaves the cabin, he decides.

Saturday morning, he drops Belle off at the library and hands her a box tied with string that he’d stashed in the back seat of the Cadillac. “Don’t open it until lunchtime,” he says, knowing the pleasure of an anticipated surprise. “I won’t be in the shop today; I’ve got some other business to take care of.”

“All right; see you later.” Belle watches him drive off, mystified by the package in her hands. By the time lunchtime rolls around, she’s more than ready to tear off the box lid and find out what’s in it. A piece of paper sits on top of some tissue paper-covered contents, with the heading “Playtime?” She forces herself to read the rest before folding back the tissue paper and seeing what awaits her. “It’s 1968. Fibre artist and co-founder of Storybrooke’s new “Enchanted Forest” commune “Rumpelstiltskin” Gold has agreed to an interview with the hip young reporter from the local newspaper.  Please confirm interview at 6 pm Saturday.”  Intrigued, she folds back the tissue paper and nearly squeals with delight, instantly picking up the beaded, white leather headband that lays on top of the other items and tying it around her head. She gets out her compact mirror to admire how it looks for a moment before texting Rum back.

“Interview confirmed. Looking forward to it.”

He must have been waiting for her reply; his return message is swift. “Dove will have the car there for you at five; I’ll see you later.”

Dove arrives with the keys to the Cadillac before she closes the library at five, and as soon as she locks the front door, she retires to the restroom to change into her outfit. It’s a beautiful day, warm and sunny, and she drives out to the cabin as instructed, deciding what she’s going to say when she gets there.  Parking, she starts to head for the door of the cabin when she hears music coming from around the side of it and alters her course.  Gold is there, sitting on top of the picnic table, his spindle hanging down and twirling as he spins a smooth yarn from the basket of wool roving in the basket beside him. He is dressed – well, he is dressed to match her, obviously, and it suits him. It suits him incredibly well.  He looks softer, younger, his dark hair set off by the off-white linen shirt, feathering out over the band collar, the open neckline displaying the line of this throat and a string of love beads, mostly black with a few white and sky blue ones mixed in at regular intervals.  The rust-coloured denim of his jeans sits low on his hips and flares out below the knees and the fringed vest…she’d like to see him move with it on, see the fringes flare out. She kind of wants to borrow it herself, and thinks about what it would feel like to wear it with nothing on underneath.  Preferably while she was riding him in bed, rocking back and forth, the open edges of the leather rubbing back and forth against her bare skin… She swallows hard, and pushes that image back to take out and play with again later. Gold looks both snuggly, and sexy, and she wants nothing more than to go over to him and slide her fingers into his hair to hold him still while she kisses him breathless, but she has a part to play first.

”Mr. Gold?” she asks, approaching. “I’m Belle French, with the Storybrooke Mirror. You agreed to an interview.” She holds out her hand and he lets go of the dangling yarn forming between his fingers to reach out and shake it.

“Call me Rum, please.” He goes back to smoothing the spinning fiber into a smooth, even yarn, and Belle can’t help but watch his hands.

“That’s a nickname, right?” She takes out a pen and notebook from her purse, ostensibly jotting it down. “For Rumpelstiltskin, because of the spinning.”

“It is. I quite like it.”

“How did you get into spinning?”

“My aunts taught me. We had a wee croft, a few sheep, chickens, that sort of thing. Turned out that I was quite good at it. I like the rhythm of it, and there’s a lot of satisfaction in taking a bit of dirty, rough wool and combing it clean and spinning it into a strong, even twist of yarn that can be made into things.”

“Do you use the yarn yourself? Make it into things?”

“Aye, we do a fair bit of that here, at the commune. Granny’s our champion knitter, ponchos and scarves and mittens, they always sell really well at the Miner’s Day Festival. And my son and his girlfriend like to make dreamcatchers with the wool; they’re another popular item. And of course we make things for ourselves as well.”

“So is that part of your goal here? To be as self-sufficient as possible?” Belle drops her bag on the grass and sits down beside it, cross-legged, resting her notebook on her thigh and glancing back up after scribbling a few things down in it.  It’s a lazy sort of day, and for once she isn’t in a hurry to rush to the sex, instead interested in the unusually detailed background story he’s made up about himself, and hinted at in the letter he’d written. She wouldn’t mind being a journalist if she wasn’t a librarian, she thinks, and wonders if the Mirror might be interested in her starting a weekly column about books.

“Aye, I suppose. It’s cheaper to make your own bread than to buy it, for example, and better for you. You’ll have to talk to Anton, our crops expert, if you want to know more about that side of thing. He’ll talk your ear off about beans if you show even the slightest bit of interest.”

Belle grins, thinking of the gentle giant who ran the local health food store, and knowing it was actually true. “You mentioned your son; tell me about him.”

Gold smiles fondly. “He’s an artist. Does portraits when he can get a commission, freelance political cartoons, sign painting, anything really.”

Neal is indeed a good artist, she knows, even if he has chosen the steady paycheck that came with a job at the hardware store over any artistic dreams, preferring to keep it a hobby. “You sound very proud of him .”

“I am.”

“What about those other people you mentioned? His girlfriend, and Granny. Do they live here, too?”

“Aye, Emma and her parents are fairly new here. Her mother’s our respectable member of society – she’s a teacher at the school – and her father can do just about everything around here. Good with the animals, construction work, anything that needs doing. And I can’t even be jealous of him because he’s so nice, too.”

Belle laughs; it really is a good summation of David.

“And Granny, well, she’s been here since the beginning.”

Belle makes a note, and looks back up to watch the whirling spindle, his fingers never still as he forms the yarn between his fingers. “Tell me about the beginning. What made you decide to start a commune?”

“Well, we didn’t, not really, certainly not at first. When my son was young – “ he hesitates, and then continues. “His mother left us, and there I was, needing to go to work and having a wee boy to take care of at the same time. We didn’t have any family, or friends. But I knew the woman in the flat across from ours had taken in her granddaughter recently and was raising her on her own – there’d been some scandal with the mother, from what Milah had gathered. But the lass looked hearty enough, so I figured that the woman knew how to take care of a bairn and I was desperate. I went knocking on her door, thinking she might be willing to look after Neal for what little money I could offer her, since it would be in the convenience of her own home. And he was a sweet, well-behaved boy, no trouble at all.”

Belle looks up at him uncertainly, knowing that he was talking about his own real life here; at least as far as Neal’s mother leaving them went, and wonders about it. He normally never talks about that period of his life, maybe this was one way he could do so?  She isn’t sure about the Granny part; they don’t seem to have that sort of relationship. She stops herself from asking if Granny had really watched Neal, though, not wanting to break character yet. Rum has gone through a lot of trouble putting together a backstory for this particular scenario, and she doesn’t want to break the mood. She realises that she knows even less about Granny’s past, or Ruby’s parents, and makes a note on her pad to ask later. She squints against the sun, positioned behind his head and outlining the locks of hair falling forward into his face, and tries to think what would be the next question that a journalist would ask.

“Were you working as a spinner then?”

“Lord, no, an accountant. It’s only been in the last few years that people have begun appreciating handcrafted items again, enough to pay a little more for them than mass-produced factory goods. It was when the last of my aunts died that I took it up again. They’d left me their cottage, and everything in it, including their wheels and a good stash of both raw wool and spun yarn. I would have moved back to Scotland and lived there, but Neal had his friends and his life here, and wanted to stay, so I sold the place and brought as many of their things home with us as possible, things that I remembered from my childhood, even though I had to place most of it in storage. But I made Neal a scarf for Christmas from the yarn, and his friend Emma then asked if I could make her a hat, and paid for it with her allowance money, and then Granny’s Ruby wanted one, and pretty soon the boutique in town contacted me about selling some of my stuff there. I took a leap of faith and quit my job, but if I was going to spend all day at home spinning and weaving, then I wasn’t going to do it in my tiny apartment. This cabin was for sale, needed a lot of fixing up, but Neal was old enough to help by then and enlisted a bunch of his friends from woodshop at school as well. We had it fixed up and livable in quite a short amount of time, and well, that was the start of things.”

Belle mentally sorts out the facts from fabrication. His aunts had been real, she knows, but the cabin has never been more than a weekend getaway place. She is saved having to think of another question by the music in the background coming to a stop and Gold putting aside his spindle and going over to the record player to flip over the disc. A new song begins playing, with what she thinks is a bass line, a deep, thumping riff that gets under her skin and makes her want to move. She stands up, leaving her notepad and pen lying on her bag in the grass, and goes to meet Gold. “I like this song,” she says, beginning to sway in place as he turns back around to face her.

“Do you?”

“Mm-hm.” She takes his hands, trying to get him to dance with her. “In-a-gadda-da-vida, honey, don’t you know that I love you,” she sings, and nearly laughs at the way his eyebrows go up in surprise, biting back the remark that Storybrooke does have an oldies radio station, and it’s kind of hard to forget a song that seems to go on forever. “In-a-gadda-da-vida, baby, don’t you know that I’ll always be true?” She lifts his arms up, spinning beneath him, and smiling; he helps twirl her,  her lightweight skirt flaring out around her.

“Oh, won’t you come with me,” she sings, and her mind completely derails in a sexual direction. “Won’t you take my hand?” With a filthy smirk on her face she tugs at his hands, backing away, and he follows, entranced, helpless to do otherwise. “Oh, won’t you come with me and walk this land? Please, take my hand.” She stops as they reach the picnic table, putting her hands on his shoulders, swaying to the music, forcing him to move as well, his feet staying planted but hips and shoulders moving to the beat.

“That’s it,” she encourages, and he smiles, drawing her close with his hands on her hips, pulling her flush against his body. She loops her arms around his neck, playing with his hair, her gaze drawn to the open collar of his shirt. “You look good,” she says.

“Do I?’ He tilts his head, grazes his lips against hers.

“Mm-hm. You should wear light colours more often.” She dips her head, pressing a kiss against his collarbone, mouthing against the warm skin.

“Have we moved into the second portion of the programming?” he asks, amused, leaning in to run his tongue around her earlobe.

“New questions. Like, do you believe in free love?” She runs her hand up his back, feeling each bump in his spine through the soft shirt, and then back down again, slipping up underneath the sun-warmed fabric.

“Oh, most definitely,” he assures her, his breath ghosting over hers as the music throbs in the background, a primal beat that makes him want to move against her, inside her. He debates the practicalities of just lifting her up onto the top of the picnic table and taking her right there.

“And is there a reason for that picnic blanket that you spread out so thoughtfully in the shade of the tree over there?”

“There are twigs and bugs in the grass,” he says, and Belle snorts. “And I thought, if any visitors should wish to recline in comfort…”

“Well, then,” she says, and takes his hand, leading him behind her towards the blanket. She sinks down upon it and he sits down beside her, facing her,  and she can’t think of anything else to say, because all she wants to do is touch him. She slides her hand beneath his hair at the nape of his neck and draws him closer and he tilts his head and then they’re kissing languorously, need slowly building between them. Belle slips her hands up under the hem of his shirt, then back out again, tugging at the hem. “Off,” she instructs.

Gold breaks away from the path he’d been nuzzling along her neck to grin at her. “Run out of questions, have you?”

“The only thing I want to know is what you’re going to look like spread out naked before me,” she says, her voice gone a bit husky.

Gold sheds his vest first and then reaches back and yanks his shirt off over his head, his eyes darkening. The light breeze rustling the leaves above them feels good on his heated skin as he shakes his hair out of his eyes, reaching out to splay his hands over Belle’s ribs before she can touch him herself, very much aware that she isn’t wearing a bra and grazing his thumbs over her nipples. Her breathing quickens and her head falls back as he rubs them, back and forth and back and forth, feeling them tighten and swell until she moans and reaches down to grab the hem of her own shirt. Gold obligingly drops his arms so that she can pull it off and cast it aside, the motion lifting her breasts and stretching out her taut belly. She kicks off her sandals and Gold takes the opportunity to remove his own low cut boots and socks, shifting more comfortably now onto his knees, and drawing Belle forward to straddle one of his thighs before kissing her again, more urgently than before.

Belle begins moving, riding his hard thigh, rubbing herself against him. His belt buckle digs into her stomach, and she reaches down, tugging it open and free impatiently, and then going for the snap and zipper of his jeans, wanting only warm skin against her, feeling Gold slide his hands up under her skirt, his palms smoothing along her legs. She slips her hand inside his jeans, palms his growing hardness, and Gold makes a desperate sort of noise, pressing up against her and then pulling back, scrambling to his feet to shove down his jeans and underwear together, while Belle makes quick work of removing the rest of her clothes and tossing them to the side,  where she spots his discarded vest and, with a small smile, pulls it on over her bare chest.  It feels as good as she had imagined, the suede soft but with just enough of a roughness to its texture to make her very aware of it as it shifts over her breasts, the edges grazing her nipples. Gazing up at Gold, she thinks it’s a good angle, his cock already half hard and lifting away from his body, and she thinks about rising back onto her knees and taking him into her mouth,  but as she shifts onto her knees and curls a hand around his ankle, he braces his hands on her shoulders and lowers himself back down to the blanket, stretching out above her, one hand supporting her lower back, and she lets him ease her down, enjoying the weight of his hips pressing her down against the ground. They kiss, long and slow, and then he begins working his way down her body, touching and tasting, fingers and lips and tongue as her head falls back and her body arches into him.

She buries her fingers in his hair and gazes up into the branches of the tree as he suckles at her breasts. Something glints there, catches the sun and magnifies it. She closes her eyes briefly against it, becomes more aware of the pulse of the music in the background, the pulse of her blood in her veins. She opens her eyes again as his mouth leaves her and he moves further down, leaving her nipples wet and swollen and aching. She looks down at her body as she lifts her hands to cup her own breasts, to tug and pinch at the nipples and sees small rainbows dancing over her chest, her skin dappled in light and shade from the sun filtering through the leaves. She looks up in puzzlement, and then smiles in delight and reaches up as if she could reach the crystals she spots hanging from the branches of the tree, their prisms catching the light and breaking it up into the bands of colour that paint her skin and increase the dreamlike quality of the moment. She knows at once where they’re from, thinking of the box in the shop’s back room full of dismantled chandelier parts, but the knowledge doesn’t lessen their magic.  She traces one along her skin, then takes one of the vest’s long fringes and shifts it back and forth over her nipple, sucking in a breath as it catches briefly before rolling over. Gold runs a hand along her thigh and she lets her legs fall apart and half closes her eyes as his fingers slip inside her, drawing out her moisture and using it to draw slow circles over her clit.

He watches her rolling the fringe back and forth over her nipple, the flesh visibly puckering around the hardening nub,  and his own cock hardens in response. He longs to take her into his mouth, but cannot look away.

“You would fit right in at Woodstock,” he says huskily. “Imagine us there, listening to the music, and I’m standing right behind you, and we’re swaying to the music. You’re wearing nothing but your skirt and that vest, and it’s open, and I’m cupping your breasts in my hands, and playing with your nipples.“

Belle’s hips jerk, as the image goes straight to her core.

Gold dips his fingers into her again, and feels the effect his words are having on her. There’s plenty of slick now, for his thumb to glide easily over her flesh, that light, grazing touch that causes her clit to swell and harden in response. His voice drops in pitch, his Scottish accent strengthening without him being quite aware of it. “There’s people all around us, but it doesn't matter, no one does more than glance our way.” He searches his memory for images from the documentary of the famous concert. “It’d been pouring rain earlier, and your shirt had gone drenched and transparent in minutes. Other people were stripping off their wet things, and you’d boldly done the same; there’s no shame here, no constraints. Bodies are natural, they’re beautiful, there’s no need to hide them.  There’s people with body paint, offering their services. Perhaps we’ll ask one to decorate your breasts; would you like that?”

Belle can’t keep from squirming, her eyes wide as they rake over his smooth, lightly tanned chest and lower, his cock blatantly erect for her.

“If we could paint you, too.  What about you? Is your shirt off?”

“Oh aye, my chest is bare against your back, and my jeans are clinging to me like a second skin, and my cock is straining against the zipper; anyone who looks at me would know how much I want you. I want to take you away from the crowd and find a place to lay you out on the ground and rut into you like a wild beast, but I need you to come first, come on my hands, come for everyone to see  – “ He slid his free hand up her chest, pushing the suede leather of the vest aside, completely baring her front, and cupped her breast in his warm hand, his hips shifting and pressing down against her pubis as he leans over her, thumb being replaced by middle finger, changing the angle, rubbing relentlessly. “Come on, sweetheart,” he urges, kneading her breast, his touch rougher here where she prefers lighter down below. 

The music pulses in time with her blood and Gold’s hair falls forward to hang in his face. He blocks out the sun, he is haloed by it, sun and shade and the scent of grass and incense and she is here and she is there at the same time and his cock is heavy and stiff against her thigh and the hard knot of pleasure bursts within her and she comes with all her muscles clenching tight and her fingers digging into his skin where she’d reached for him. His finger stills against her, knowing not to move again until she relaxes, the tension sagging out of her body, and she feels good but it’s not enough, there’s an aching emptiness inside her that needs to be filled. She sits up abruptly, tumbling him onto his back, and straddles his hips, taking hold of his cock and stroking it firmly. 

“We’ve gone away from the crowd now,” she tells him. “Found a place by the lake, behind some bushes. They offer us some privacy, but we can hear people nearby, going down to the lake, to bathe, to swim. Someone could easily come upon us, if they came in just the right direction.”  She rubs her thumb over his slit, coaxing out a bead of moisture, and he lets out a nearly inaudible whine. “I don’t care, though. I want you, and I don’t want to wait. Are you willing to risk it? Willing to risk someone seeing me riding you into the ground?” 

“Hell, yes.” He can’t wait, either. “Let them see. Let them see a beautiful woman like you wants someone like me.”

“You say “someone like me” as if I’m not dripping wet for you, as if I don’t want to have you buried inside me more than anything in the world,” she says, and rises up, positioning him at her entrance so he can feel the truth of her words. “You have to be quiet,” she warns, mischievously, and sinks down. 

Gold swallows down the noise that wants to escape his throat as she engulfs him. “I don’t know if I can promise that.” He splays his hands out on her waist, just under the edge of the vest, his thumbs brushing the undersides of her breasts. Hanging open as it is, the vest only half covers them, baring a lovely wide strip of pale flesh right down the center of her body, adorned only by the love beads she still wore around her neck. As she shifts above him, the edges of the vest fall back, just revealing her nipples, and his cock throbs in response. He bucks up, everything feeling tight, and hot, and urgent. “That vest is a good look on you; we should keep it.”

Belle grins. “I’m glad you think so; I quite like it myself.” She leans forward over him, resting her weight on her hands, and begins to ride him, deliberately shifting continuously in a way that keeps the edges of the vest moving and rubbing against her breasts, her nipples staying hard and sensitive from the teasing friction. She undulates; rising and falling and pleasuring herself on his shaft, the long fringes falling forward as she lowers herself above his body. 

Gold arches up as the leather fringes trail over his belly and swing forward to drag over his nipples, driving himself deeper inside her as he seeks more of the teasing sensation. He cups his hands over her breasts, rolling her nipples between forefinger and thumb, and Belle moans. He grins. “I thought we had to be quiet.”

"I never said I would be." She lifts herself up until just the head of his shaft remains within her, glancing down to see the hard column of his flesh joining their bodies. She tightens her muscles around him, squeezing as hard as she can. 

Gold's whole body jerks as he cries out, his balls tightening and drawing up. He drags her back down upon him and rolls them over, pulling back out just enough to slam forward into her, rocking her backwards. He thrusts into her again, all control gone, feeling his climax rapidly approaching. 

"That's it." Belle braces herself with drawn up knees and urges him on. "Come on, Rum, give it to me." He is all lean, wiry muscle, and dark hair falling forward and shielding his eyes from her view. She arches up into his next thrust, digging her fingers into his lean buttocks and feeling him long and thick and solid inside her. "That's it, so good, come on, come for me."

He snaps his hips forward, driving deep again and again until his body seizes with pleasure and he stills, braced on his forearms with his hips sealed against hers while the hot flood of his release spills inside her. After a few seconds his muscles unclench and he lowers himself to lay atop her, panting and letting his eyes fall shut as he savours the fading rush of ecstasy, his cock twitching a few times in aftershock as he softens inside her. He feels her fingers run through his hair and turns his face into her neck, breathing in the scent of her skin and the smell of crushed grass beneath the blanket, the air moving lightly over his sweaty back. A bird chatters above them, and he realises that the record had stopped playing at some point, unnoticed. He takes in a deep breath and rolls off to the side, blinking up at leaf-dappled sunlight and rainbows dancing in the air. He turns his head to the side and the corner of his mouth quirks up as Belle does the same and meets his eyes. She looks as debauched as he feels. 

"So, Rumpelstiltskin," she says, reaching out to twine her fingers with his. She feels thoroughly well-used and it is about all she has the energy for at the moment. "Do you have any final words for the readers of our paper?"

Gold's smile widens into a grin. "Yeah. Turn on," He draws their joined hands to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles.  "Tune in, and drop out." He lifts his free hand and flashes her a peace sign, feeling utterly sated and stupidly happy. He thinks of the box from the estate sale. 

Best buy ever. 

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle is hope #worryinglyinnocent #ficwoodelf #turn on tune in drop out #AHAHAHA I FINALLY FINISHED IT #THE SMUT HAS BEEN FIGHTING ME FOR TWO YEARS #BUT I WAS DETERMINED TO GET THIS DAMNED THING OUT OF MY DRAFTS #i'll put it up on ao3 in the morning #i want to give the smutty half a better edit when my eyes aren't so burning and blurry #also i'm never writing anything in present tense ever again #but i wanted to match the style of the others #every read through i kept finding spots where i'd slipped back into past tense and had to change all the verbs #ugh

[appletreeisland]

Life Reset Plan

Okay, things are shit now. But they don’t want to stay like that. You know how to make it better, you just got to do it. So, as always, let’s write it down and get to it, yeah?

Step 1: Life Cleanse

Start by cleaning your room. Open all the windows. Light a candle, start an oil diffuser, just make the air breathable. Strip your bed and wash everything. Sheets, blankets, pillowcases, everything. Throw them all into the wash. Maybe use some extra soap. Some essential oils. Whatever makes you feel good. Then take everything you own and put it on your bare bed. Alright, now you got until the washer and dryer are done to go through all your shit and decide if it stays or goes. (For me, that’s about 1 hour and 15 minutes) Don’t spend to much time on things, you don’t got a lot of time to spare. Most things should be decided instantly. Pick it up. Do you want it? Not an immediate yes. Get rid of it. Donate it. Sell it. Trash it. Just get it out of your life somehow. Now that you know what you want to keep, give them a home. Put them away in a place that makes you feel good and where it could stay forever. Good. Now brush off or vacuum your bed and make the bed. Tuck in your sheets. Fold your throw blankets. Make it look comfy like those beds of Instagram girls and people who have their lives together. Wipe down any and all surfaces. Desktops, windowsill, bedside tables. Make them fresh and clean. Sweep and mop or vacuum your floor. Make it a space that you feel good walking around barefoot on.

Move onto the rest of your space. Repeat everything here in each area of your pace. Bathroom? Throw the towels in the wash, put everything on the floor or counter, go throw it all, clean your surfaces, put everything away, sweep and mop. Kitchen? Empty cabinets and fridge, get rid of old/outdated foods, things you’re not actually ever going to use, consolidate herbs and spices (looking at you, four things of cinnamon), wipe out the inside of cabinets and fridge, put everything away, wipe down counters and stovetop, sweep, mop. Etc, etc.

Lastly, cleanse your technology. No, don’t just wipe down screens. Delete everything that doesn't make you happy. Apps, files, photos, songs, accounts, contacts, etc. Be aggressive with this too. Anything that doesn’t immediately make you feel good, get rid of it. Unfollow accounts that make you feel bad about yourself, that waste your time, that doesn’t inspire you and bring you joy. Yeah, that paper you wrote in school and got an A, delete it. Unless you feel like you’ll use it for another class or research your doing. This is nuanced advice. Adapt it to your current situation. If anything, put it in the cloud. 

Step 2: Personal Cleanse

We’re going to start physical and work our way inwards.

Take your old clothes off. Take a shower or a bath. A good long one. Spend at least twice as long as you normally do (unless you normally take hour-long showers, you know, be reasonable), wash your hair, condition it, wash your body, use a sugar scrub, wash your face, exfoliate, hell even brush your teeth. Do whatever you need to do to make yourself feel clean and rejuvenated. Don’t do something just because I said to or someone else said to. Do it because you feel good doing it. Don’t shave if it’s not your thing. Don’t put a face mask on if it’s not your thing. Again, nuance. Dry yourself off, put lotion on, put on your favorite outfit, do your hair, do your makeup, make yourself feel good by looking good. But looking good in a way that makes you feel good. Don’t like makeup, don’t wear it. Your favorite outfit could be sweatpants and a sweatshirt. Could be a suit and tie. A dress, a romper, whatever. Even a simple pair of jeans and a t-shirt. Now, find a way to simplify this routine. Make it a daily thing. Shower every day if it makes you feel good. Use a sugar scrub three times a week if you want. Make a personal hygiene routine that makes you feel your best. You can use mine as an example but definitely take everything you want and nothing you don’t.

Okay, now look inward a bit. At your habits. Do you like them? Do they make you feel good? Do they depress you? Make you feel like a failure? Try to think about everything you tend to do, no matter how small. Write them down if you need to. Make a list and go through each one by one with an overly critical eye. Really consider the place of that habit in your life. Take the ones you want to quit doing and make a plan to quit them. (Maybe read ahead a bit in case they are similar to the ones I’m changing in my own life so you don’t spend all this time on it just for me to go over it again more in-depth) Now, think about the habits you want to have. Do you want to be a runner? Do you want to wake up at 6am every day? Read before bed? Draw daily? Write them all down. Then think about why you want to do them. Because they make you happy? Because someone else does them? Because you were told they were good for you? Again, be overly critical. Only accept the ones that are purely for yourself. Don’t wake up at 5am because someone once told you that that’s how you have a productive day. Do it because you love the quiet stillness of waking up before others. Or because you need that time to do other things that purely make you happy.

Lastly, look at your emotional health. How have you been feeling recently? Good? Bad? Depressed? Really ask yourself some personal questions and be honest with yourself. Again write it down. In whatever way is best for you. Maybe that’s a brain dump or a Level 10 Life approach. Whatever works for you. Now, think about why you’ve been feeling that way. Is it other people in your life? Could you remove them from your life or sit down and discuss with them how they have been impacting your life or find ways to healthily deal with them? Look at all your relationships. You never know where draining and/or toxic people may be when you don’t look at them critically. Is it your habits? Well, we’re already working on that so good job! Is it where you live or work? What can you do about those? Move furniture around? Buy new art? Move? Change jobs? Ask for a promotion? Find out what you need and go get it. Ask for help, build a support network, find the people who truly care and want to help you and utilize them. You’re not a burden or bothering them. fAnd if you are either understand that they may also be going through some tough shit and need to take care of themselves first and that’s okay or maybe they weren’t as good of a relationship as you thought. 

Step 3: Social Cleanse

I know we just talked about this, but I want to go into it a bit more.

Look at all your relationships, Family, friends, love interests, coworkers, etc. How do you feel about these relationships? Can you discard them if necessary? Or reinvent them? Analyze all of them and make a conscious decision to keep them in your life.

Want more relationships? Find out how you personally make new ones. Do you go out places and strike up a conversation? Go to a cafe or store and find someone to talk to. Even a brief compliment or something you notice. See where it goes. If it doesn’t have the effect you wanted, try again. Not everyone is going to be your friend and that’s okay. We’re here for true friends, not superficial ones. Do you meet someone online? Download some apps. Be active on forums. Talk to people. State your intentions upfront if it may otherwise be ambiguous. Or do you prefer meeting people through others? Talk to your friends. Ask them about friends they have told you about. See if you all could do something together. Express interest in the people in their life and they’ll maybe introduce you to them. But they definitely won’t if they don’t know you’re interested.

How about yourself? Do you like yourself? How you treat yourself and others? Are there mannerisms you don’t like that you have? That you wish you did have? List them out. Really think about how you react to certain stimuli. If someone compliments you, how do you handle it? If they demean you, how do you respond? You don’t need to go through every little reaction right now, but stay mindful of them. If you notice that there’s something you don’t like, make a mental note of it and come back to it later. Why did you not like it? And, again, make sure you don’t make decisions based on others. Really think about it and decide if you want to make a change truly for yourself or for someone else.

Step 4: Building Your Life

So you got all your stuff figured out. A super clean space. A group of good friends. An understanding of your own feeling towards different aspects of your life. Now that you know these things, change the things you don’t like. 

Start with routines. Make them as strict or leisurely as you want. Set a time to wake up, a time to go to sleep. Figure out what you need to do every morning to have a good day, every night to have a good sleep and/or morning. You can look at mine for some ideas. Are there other things you want to do every day? Maybe you want to talk a walk during your lunch break or pick up your space every evening after dinner. Decide on things that you want to do every day and make them a routine. Put them in your schedule. Commit to them. Do them every day. Make weekly routines too. Every Thursday you do laundry. Every Wednesday you go grocery shopping. Every Monday you plan your week. Make as many or as few routines as you need to be happy with your life. Eventually, they will just be another part of your life and you won’t need to think about them anymore.

Then, focus on your habits. You’ve decided which ones you want to get rid of and which ones you want to start. Make plans for each and every one of them. Make a plan to quit smoking or spending less time on social media. Maybe that’s setting a limit. And that limit can be just as many/much as you’ve been doing. But now you’re limited to that. Then reduce it by a small bit. Instead of three cigarettes a day, limit yourself to 2. Instead of 2 hours on social media, spend 1.5 hours. Continue reducing the limit little by little until you’re at a point you are happy with and isn’t interfering with other things you want in life. Want to start a habit? Do the inverse. Start small and work up to your goal. Want to wake up earlier? Wake up five minutes earlier? Or even just work on getting out of bed right as your alarm goes off and then work on getting up earlier. 

Step 5: Living Your Life

It’s a process. Creating yourself is a process. You’re not going to have it all figured out in an afternoon. A lot of this is things that will slowly develop over time. You can do your initial overhaul but always come back to things. Review how you’re feeling and how things are going and make more changes as you need to.

So go out, live your life, continue to grow and work towards being the person you feel most happy as, and never let anything stop you. 

#life reset #advice #life overhaul

[charlie-minion]

What were the highs and lows of this year?

I didn’t do journaling on my blog this year, but I didn’t abandon my insightful nature either. I believe this year was better than last year and considerably better than 2017, so I’d like to borrow the last journal entry from last year in order to organize in my head the good and the bad of 2019.

LOWS:

I spent a long time staring at the word “lows” and trying to write something, but every time I came up with an idea, my brain provided a thought that made it seem like it really wasn’t a big deal and that it all worked out for the best, anyway. I guess my psychologist would be very proud of me right now! For instance:

I let go of some friendships and acquaintances.

After uttering this statement, I realized that this was more positive than negative because I learned to invest my time and energy wisely. I learned the importance of giving and taking in a relationship (platonic or otherwise) and the necessity of letting go of those who don’t make an effort. So, in this regard, I regret nothing.

I had another depressive episode and some serious moments of crisis.  

This is another low that turned into a high. I started to feel the decline in my mental health again at the end of June and promptly looked for help. I realized the health care system in my country does offer mental health services for free, so I went back to therapy. I had regular weekly sessions with my psychologist for 6 months, and I was properly diagnosed by a psychiatrist. They discovered I had been wrongly diagnosed with major depression the previous times I had hit rock bottom, but in reality, I’ve had bipolar disorder all this time (which makes a lot of sense, truth be told). Without that depressive episode, I wouldn’t have gone back to therapy and many of the highs of the year wouldn’t have happened.

My social service project and master’s thesis took a lot longer than I expected.

However, I can’t complain much about this because everything worked out great in the end. And the fact that my graduation was in September gave my big sister the chance to come to my country and be here with me on such a special occasion.

It took me a long time to sell the missing half of my old property.

But it was worth the wait because a friend of my mom’s bought the house and I don’t carry that burden into 2020 anymore.  

I didn’t get a job.

This isn’t true, though. I did get a job. I got a job as the vice-principal of a private school, but I decided not to sign the contract because there were things I didn’t agree with. I was offered two other jobs during the year and I just wasn’t interested in taking them. It took me some time to realize that I didn’t want to get a job because I wasn’t stable enough. I felt pressured to do so because it was expected of me as someone with both a bachelor’s and a master’s degree, but I didn’t really want to, so not getting a job was actually a good thing and the Universe knew better.

I burned the bridge with my ex-girlfriend (whether temporarily or for life).

When I broke up with my girlfriend, I didn’t do it because I didn’t care for her; I did it because I wanted to give her a chance to learn what she truly wanted. She’s still hot and cold and that’s understandable due to her age (there’s an age gap to consider between us). She kind of tried to communicate with me a few times (mostly when she needed something) and I tried to stay friends, but when she approached me a month into my depressive episode of the year, I was not in the right condition to keep playing mind games with her and decided to set very clear boundaries that would leave her out maybe for good. On the one hand, this could be one of the lows of the year, but on the other hand, I simply don’t regret a thing because I had to do what was best for me and my mental and emotional health.

Honestly, there’s not a single low this year that can’t be turned into a good thing. And I know that must have been true in the previous years as well, but I wasn’t in the right state of mind to do so.

HIGHS:

All the aforementioned things are definitely highs, but they are the result of an automatic exercise my brain did to transform something negative into something positive. My therapist spent weeks and weeks working with me on this, and I thought this was the most difficult exercise of all, so that’s why I believe she would be extremely proud of me if she saw me doing this unprompted.

Now if I want to talk specifically about the highs, I can mention:

I had a spiritual awakening on January 28th.

When my depressive episode kicked in, I started to doubt the spiritual awakening had been true. Then when I learned about my mental illness, I thought that maybe what I thought was a spiritual awakening had simply been a hypomanic episode. But the truth is that my level of consciousness shifted and there’s no denying that. I may have a serious mental illness and I may be on meds for the rest of my life, but the fact that, from January on, I’ve been very in tune with my intuition has nothing to do with all that. There’s no need to go deep into this because I don’t feel the need to talk about it or convince anyone anymore, and isn’t that even better?

I got closer to my family.

I realized that I didn’t have to turn my back on my family because not everything is black or white. They may not be perfect, but I’m not either; nobody is. So, I made peace with some relatives and got closer again to some others. I’m a lot better at setting boundaries now, so I’m not a people pleaser, but I’m not nasty either. All in all, I feel good about the fact that I may not be as alone as I thought I was.

I released the two major sources of stress I still had.

When I finished grad school and sold my house, I could finally breathe a sigh of relief. I don’t have any more papers to worry about, professors or classmates to deal with, or fees to pay. I don’t have to clean my old house or continue paying the bills. I’m finally free! And there’s no better way to start a new year and a new decade.

I got diagnosed and was given the proper treatment.

As I mentioned before, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It’s not that I’m happy about it, but I was treated incorrectly for so many fucking years, that it feels wonderful to be taken seriously for the first time in forever. I started medication in November and my psychiatrist has been really helpful. The effect of the meds has been evident! There haven’t been side effects and my brain has reacted beautifully to the treatment. It feels like I can use my rational mind now, and I can even keep it together when other people act in a threatening way (which has happened). I’m amazed at how different life feels like from this perspective. I never quite understood why people liked to be alive because all I felt on a daily basis was despair, so to me being alive used to feel like a burden rather than a blessing. It doesn’t feel that way now. I know both the meds and the changes in my life style have contributed, but I can say with 100% certainty that without the meds, I would not feel the way I do right at this time.

I look freaking fantastic!

I have lost over 80 pounds since I started exercising on March 20, 2018. I have a lot of energy and feel good about myself. It’s not just the fact that I’m not overweight anymore, though. I’m proud of myself because I’ve had the patience and discipline to do something that didn’t give me any immediate benefit. I see the results now and everyone praises me for what I’ve accomplished, but I exercised daily for over a year without seeing much of a change, and despite that, I kept going. So, this is definitely a high! I’m missing just 25 pounds to weigh what I want, and I’m confident I’ll be there soon.

I appreciate the people who are still part of my life.

I haven’t let go of every friend; I just got better at knowing when a cycle is over without taking it personally. Some people have returned to my life, and some others have left. That’s just part of life, I guess. The only thing I know is that those who remain mean a lot to me, and I’m thankful for them.

I finally learned what I want.

It was December of 2017 when my friend Kate asked me what I wanted after yet another failed suicide attempt. I couldn’t answer her question because I didn’t know; no one had ever asked me that, not even me. I’d always done what others wanted me to, or what I thought others wanted or expected from me. Last year, when I had to answer this question in my journal, I had trouble giving a straight answer. It was easier to identify what I DIDN’T want. That was progress, indeed, but still not enough. This year, I’ve continued to progress. I know what I want! I want to live as if I had already retired without feeling guilty about it. I want to feel proud about my academic accomplishments without feeling that I’m obliged to climb a professional ladder because of them. I want to have time to enjoy my hobbies and to enjoy the simplest things in life, even if I can’t eat out at fancy restaurants or buy fancy things as often as I used to. I want a humble, simplified life. And that’s exactly what I have right now!

I may not be where I thought I wanted to be 10 years ago, but at the time, I didn’t even know what I wanted. I was just acting in autopilot, following other people’s beliefs of what I should want. I’m convinced that 2020 will be an amazing year precisely because I am EXACTLY where I want to be, and if that’s not where others expected me to be, all I can say is that I don’t give a single fuck! :’D

Thank you for everything, 2019!

HAPPY NEW YEAR to everyone, especially to those who read all of this! ♥♥ 

#not supernatural #personal #about me #charlie talks #highs and lows #2019 summary #it was a good year

[weekendwarriorblog]

30 Minute Experiment: The Future of Comics #30ME

Okay, let’s do this. I wasn’t going to do a #30ME today cause I was put in a rather foul mood due to something that happened last night, but I’m trying to move past it, also because it’s been a few days since I did one of these. I had other things going on yesterday and Friday that it made it better for me to not spend time on this experiment. Either way, I’m back doing one on Sunday and today’s topic was offered by my friend, Peter, so here goes nothing...

I will freely admit that I am not as knowledgeable about the comic industry as my former boss at ComicsBeat and some of her staff, who cover the comic industry in such great detail and who know so much about the ins and outs of the industry. Right now, comics books are generally in flux and I’m not quite sure how I feel about that. I’ve been someone who has bought and read comics regularly. I’ve also bought comics that I’ve never found time to read. I also have reached points where I couldn’t afford to buy comics at all. And then there’s that thing about selling off my 40-year collection last year for way below what I thought I’d get for it.

I’ve generally been reading comic books since I was 9 or 10 when I found a bunch of ‘70s Superman comics in a clubhouse near our new house in Framingham, Mass. As a rather impressionable kid, I was a fan almost immediately, and even to this day, if you find a kid who likes to read, you’ll find a kid who loves comic books. It’s just something that you can always count on with younger boys and girls... if you hand them a comic book, they will read it. 

I was no different but I became quite obsessed and spent most of the money I earned from various job when I was a teenager and even younger on comics and records, which led to all sorts of issues later in life when I was living in a tiny studio apartment in New York City and was forced to put a lot of my old collections into storage spaces that I eventually couldn’t afford.

But this isn’t about my past with comics and about the future. I’m not sure if you’re aware or even if you’re somebody who still regularly reads and/or collects comics, but shortly after the pandemic struck the States, Diamond Distributors had to shut its doors. The problem was that Diamond was the top distributor of comic books from the publishers to the comic book stores. Even though there were many comics in the works to come out in April, May and June, on April 1, that distribution system just stopped dead and there was no way for the big three, DC Comics, Marvel Comics and Image Comics to get their comics out to the masses. The entire economy of the comic business quickly ground to a halt with no way for stores to pay for comics, no way for Diamond to properly and safely distribute them and very few stores actually open to sell them. At least that was the case in New York where a giant like MIdtown Comics had to close up as it wasn’t considered an essential business.

I felt a little mixed on this because I’ve already tried to quit buying and reading comics a few times over the past few years. In 2018, I thought I had reached a point where I could no longer afford to buy them nor have time to read them even while most of my time was spent looking for jobs rather than doing them. When I couldn’t afford to keep up my mail order subscriptions, I took the opportunity to stop. I then found myself having to get rid of my expensive storage spaces and that gave me another opportunity to quit. That was February 2019 and in the exact same month, I started writing for The Beat, and let’s just say that it’s hard to work for one of the top comic book sites on the planet and NOT be interested in what is happening in comics.

I vowed to keep things in control in terms of my spending and for the most part, I was able to do so, although I still have a lot of unread comics piled up near and around my bed that i just haven’t taken the time to read, especially with so many other distractions during the pandemic.

It’s now been a full month without comics and I still have plenty to read if I want to, but DC Comics have already started to come back slowly and Marvel will soon follow suit. Neither company is releasing nearly as many comics as they did in March when both companies would release 30 to 50 (or even comics) of all types and varieties. There’s just no way for someone with a limited income to keep up with it all so I feel like the pandemic closures gave me another opportunity to get out of my buying and non-reading habits. So I’ve written quite a bit about the topic of “the future of comics” without actually addressing it head-on, and maybe I’m a little biased, but my good friend David Lloyd had the best plan when he came up with the idea for Aces Weekly, which is a digital-only comic book site that offers brand-new comics that have never been seen anywhere else but only in a digital serialized format. No printing costs, no waste of paper... but some of the best comic book storytelling and art working out there that just hasn’t caught on as well as all of the usual superheroics from DC and Marvel who have also made the jump to digital.  What I like about Aces Weekly is that it reminds me of the Heavy Metal of my youth, stories that were in different genres than the usual superheroes, whether it’s sci-fi or fantasy or horror or even comedies. Part of why I got into David’s own work originally was because I regularly read his series V for Vendetta with Alan Moore when it was published in Warrior Magazine. In fact, having to get rid of my collection of original Warrior Magazines was one of the many heartbreaks from Midtown getting my entire collection for way below what I thought it was worth. (I probably shouldn’t bring that up again because it really puts me in a mood.)

But David did have something write that’s perfect for the post-pandemic world and that’s that if consumers are still relying on having physical books in print and there’s still a possibility of COVID-19 potentially being spread via packaging and shipping of such books... then yeah, we just have to go digital. I mean, everyone has a computer nowadays and most people have phones or tablets as well. Aces Weekly was designed beautifully to work in the landscape formatting that we’ve become so accustomed to from computers, TVs and tablets. It was never meant to be read on smartphones as that would destroy the beauty of the artwork and the sequential storytelling which is meant to be read as one does a comic strip in the Sunday papers (which still probably get more readers than the average comic book).

It’s kind of a strange time because comic books are more popular than ever due to the huge amount of superhero and comic book movies that have come out over the past 20 years, both good and bad. The success of these movies, particularly those in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, has made it for publishers to get comic books into avid younger readers who want to know more about the heroes they seen on screen. 

And yet, there’s still a big glut of comics being released that aren’t of the greatest quality and are kept around just because someone in editorial thinks that readers want these books. 

We’ve already seen a lot of comics going to digital services and a resulting outcry of comic book stores who realize that some people might be fine reading the stories in that format, thereby cutting out the middle men, but I personally still prefer physical comics, mainly because I can just sit back and read something without the use of technology and the screens that I’m looking at for so many hours over the course of the day.

Sure, I can’t really afford physical comic books and don’t really have the space to store them, plus I’m always in danger of them taking over my apartment and my ability to live comfortably, a constant problem, but I also wonder why more publishers haven’t gone the direction of David’s Aces Weekly and just created a solid product that involves great storytelling, writing and art and just rid the need for printing and paper, which is a bit of an ecological nightmare when you realize that comics are rarely recycled and are frequently just piling up in someone’s closet or backroom as a “collection.”

We’ve reached a point in technology where digital comics should very much be the standard and unfortunately that means that comic book shops need to change with the times and not be as beholden to having huge stocks of comics and toys taking up real estate just for those who show up and want to look around who may have some spare cash to buy something they clearly don’t need. Heck, most comic shops seem to do better business with Funko Pops and statues than actual comics these days so maybe they should be converted into toy or hobby shops... but with a knowledgable staff who can point those who want to read to sites/publishers that offer digital comics.

It’s kind of weird writing this on the day after what would have been this year’s Free Comic Book Day and what would have been the start of the summer movie season with Marvel Studios’ Black Widow, their first movie since Spider-Man: Far from Home  last July, but it seems we’re also at a very clear turning point where now is the time to change things to rid ourselves of the issues (pun intended) that have plagued us, like consumerism, the ecological nightmare that we’ve turned our globe into by destroying trees, and so many other things that physical comic books as they’ve existed for 80 years or more have only contributed to rather than helping us to get away from those issues.

I’m sure I’ll have more to say on this subject as more books are available from DC and Marvel but I’ve run out of time and Cuomo will be on soon, so back tomorrow!

#30ME #30MInuteExperiment #ComicBooks #TheFutureOfComics

[punkscowardschampions]

Jimmy & Janis

Jimmy: [a picture of the lil card thingy on the bulletin board or wherever] Jimmy: Oi Jimmy: you still doing that? Janis: Yeah Janis: 10 euro Mon-Fri for a 20 min walk Jimmy: You do longer or what? Janis: Yeah, that's on lunch break but after School hours I can put it on an hour group walk Janis: between 4-10, pick any hour you want Jimmy: Alright Jimmy: depends what shift I'm on Jimmy: don't have to sign in blood or owt, do I? Janis: won't give you a discount if you do Jimmy: gutted Janis: 'course Janis: if you need weekends and all, I can give you a tenner off but that's it Jimmy: might do Jimmy: sounds like you're cheaper than my sister Janis: weird flex Janis: you know dogs like routine, yeah? Jimmy: 🐕 'll be 💔 on your time Janis: when do you want me to start? Jimmy: tomorrow do you? Janis: Fine by me Janis: get me a key cut, [park name] work for you? Jimmy: 👍 Janis: oh, is there anything I need to know about it Janis: actual like it can't be let off the lead, or bullshit like all the 'allergies' it has Jimmy: up to you that, she won't come back if you do Janis: if you're planning on no-showing Janis: or you ain't got a dog Janis: 1. you won't be the first Janis: 2. i will smack the shit out of you Jimmy: 1. love a park, me Jimmy: 2. [a picture of Twix] Janis: 1. i'm not walking you, btw Janis: 2. put a paper with today's date in it so i know it's real Jimmy: 1. 💔 Jimmy: 2. [does and has doodled on the paper like a nerd] Janis: 1. and I don't babysit humans so leave your sister at home as well Janis: 2. 👍 Janis: give a fuck if you've nicked it, long as you've cut the microchip out Jimmy: 1. only 'cause she'd smack the shit outta you, mate, there's another weird flex for you Jimmy: 2. wouldn't nick nowt that looked like that, tah Janis: 1. not my business that you wanna fuck your sister Janis: 2. and i don't nick nothing so you can trust me with your house key 👌 Jimmy: 1. it ain't that grim up north, but alright Jimmy: 2. crack on, nowt worth having any road Janis: anyone with shit to take has cameras all over the gaff, you're alright Jimmy: only got the one in the 🧸's 👀 Jimmy: stay out my little brother's room and you're alright an' all Janis: not the nonce, new boy Jimmy: 💔 for you Janis: euro, not sympathy Janis: take pound, if that's all you got but no credit either Jimmy: lived here long enough to do the change over Jimmy: nowt but the accent sticks Janis: either way, not gonna be on the BBC any time soon with the latest headlines Janis: 💔 Jimmy: hang on, I'll get my 🎻out Jimmy: earn the 💰 while I'm there Janis: give a fuck how you get it, long as you can afford me Jimmy: you ain't that expensive, girl Jimmy: we've done that bit Janis: competitively priced Jimmy: 🏆👏 Janis: definitely not getting paid in applause Janis: we're done here, yeah? Jimmy: What if I'm REALLY good at it? Janis: HIGHLY doubt it Jimmy: whatever you've heard is bollocks Jimmy: can go and on when I get going 👏 Janis: no need to tell me Janis: this is really dragging Jimmy: dry your eyes, mate Janis: what's it called? Jimmy: Twix Janis: 😏 Janis: How sweet Jimmy: funny Janis: not the crappest name I've heard Jimmy: rather it were Jimmy: 🥇 is better than nowt Janis: I fake that I like theirs to their faces Janis: no reason I can't fake the opposite to yours Janis: all part of the service Jimmy: 👍 Janis: you can pay each day or weekly Jimmy: how does every other dickhead do it? Janis: depends on the dickhead Janis: the ones that never wanna see the help just drop bank in my account monthly Janis: most people do weekly though, then you only have to 👀 me once every Janis: unless you're a lonely 👵 or letchy 👴 then get the pleasure of seeing you every single day for a chat, obvs Jimmy: there you go then Jimmy: busted 👴 Janis: Hooray Janis: be easy, give it me at school, right? Jimmy: Long as Mr Lucas ain't about Jimmy: don't need no ideas, him Janis: ugh 🙄 he's one computer sweep away from mysteriously fucking off one day and none of the others having anything to say about it Jimmy: makes nonce look well fit though Jimmy: better hit him up for tips before he goes Janis: you had Janis: busy boy Jimmy: in a bit then Janis: Later Jimmy: [later] Jimmy: if I ain't got a 🔑 for you, that the whole thing off? Janis: just saves time, which is typically why people hire me Janis: but if you're in or can drop the dog to me, don't matter, I guess Jimmy: alright Janis: not have time or not trust us? Jimmy: take your pick Jimmy: well generous like that, me Janis: long as you're paying, give a fuck Janis: you've still got that, yeah? Jimmy: I heard, don't 👏 throw 💰 Janis: that's where the parallels between this and the club end Jimmy: earning it for you now, my dear Jimmy: keep calm and crack on Janis: 💘 Janis: try keep your burns 2nd degree n below Jimmy: spoilsport Janis: fine Janis: just aim the steam thing away from your face Janis: if you get sacked, so do I now Jimmy: disability'll pay Jimmy: be alright Janis: go for your life then, new boy Jimmy: tah Janis: anytime Jimmy: 4-10 Janis: oddly people don't want me taking their dogs in the middle of the night Janis: who'd've thought it Jimmy: bit rude that Jimmy: no trust nowadays 👴 Janis: they just wanna be the ones to murder me Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: whatever floats your ⛵ lads Janis: oh, cheers Jimmy: can't be the only 🐕🗨 about, you Janis: only one you could afford Janis: reason you found the ad Jimmy: I might be a secret millionaire Jimmy: wouldn't be the most bollocks rumour going about Janis: give me more money and I'll spread that one instead Jimmy: piss off Janis: worth a shot Jimmy: miss all them you don't take, girl Janis: they got that on a poster near the maths block, don't they Jimmy: probably Jimmy: got shot right into the bin though, didn't it? Janis: 🗑 Janis: only I'm that good a shot, 2nd attempt, I'll believe Jimmy: still 🎯 Janis: you like 👏 or what Jimmy: don't have to like something to be good at it Jimmy: told you I were Janis: that's about the ☕ init? Jimmy: told you to take your pick an' all so Jimmy: whatever floats your ⛵ lass Janis: not info we need to share for this to still be on Jimmy: be a bit weird if it were Janis: fake 👴 Jimmy: in my day if the 🗨 weren't over a fence it didn't count for nowt Janis: get some 🌳 to lurk in Jimmy: have a row about cutting 'em an' all Jimmy: win win Janis: hot Jimmy: I know Jimmy: 💔 the 🐕 ain't gonna get stuck up a tree but a 😭 story for another day, that Jimmy: I'll save it til you're on the clock Janis: ❌ animal abuse, even casual, cost way more than you got Jimmy: well sure of the contents of my pockets, you Jimmy: can have a full wallet AND be pleased to see you Janis: God Janis: maybe you are 👴 alright, don't need to go that hard to prove it Jimmy: but you're just THAT 🥇 Jimmy: 💕 Janis: yeah yeah Janis: you're on the clock, I get it Janis: ain't a customer though Jimmy: 💔🎻💔 for you Janis: if that's how your chat goes, I'm alright for it Janis: and the shit coffee Jimmy: nowt an overpriced latte can't cure Jimmy: my chat included Janis: wrong twin Jimmy: nah Jimmy: she don't need the hard sell Jimmy: nowt I can do to be rid of her Janis: don't claim her Janis: or her slag behaviour Jimmy: me either Janis: pleased for you, honestly Jimmy: no need to 👏 Jimmy: leave it to the pros Janis: not 👏 for either of you Janis: have to pay you damages if you was part of her body count Janis: cba Jimmy: your apathy is 🤤🤤🤤 Janis: clearly Jimmy: warn us next time Jimmy: trying to keep this professional here Janis: you're doing SO good Janis: 🤤🤤🤤 Jimmy: leave that for the 🐕 Janis: SO weird, new kid Jimmy: been said Janis: bears repeating Jimmy: all 👂 Janis: not now Jimmy: part-timer Janis: I wish Jimmy: you're alright, got Asia in my DMs, bound to be what she's saying Janis: save me the summary Janis: I've heard all 2 thoughts she has already Jimmy: me an' all Jimmy: soz if you reckoned you were special Janis: 💔💔💔 Jimmy: #relatable Janis: she must be telling you why she ain't in today Janis: hair or nails, that's the question Jimmy: hang on Jimmy: 💅 DUH Janis: how else do you show off how little you do with your hands Janis: silly me Jimmy: have a word with yourself, honestly Janis: I would Janis: but you're so chatty, can't get a word in Jimmy: 🤐 Jimmy: there you go Janis: so generous, I heard Jimmy: 👍 Janis: what time you coming today Janis: you not said Jimmy: [a time] Janis: alright Jimmy: can do a bit later if you need Jimmy: but no earlier Janis: can make that time Janis: loads of my usuals are either off to walk their dogs or their kids are so Jimmy: unlucky Janis: yeah Janis: least it's not the only way of making money I got Jimmy: the club, I heard Jimmy: and the theft Jimmy: bet you get written into loads of 👴 wills an' all Janis: those the rumours? Jimmy: just what you said Janis: no bother, if I needed shit spreading, I'd go to your punters well before you Jimmy: would be a good shout Janis: not stupid Jimmy: nor northern 💔🎻😭 Jimmy: can't win 'em all, Judith Janis: says you Jimmy: it were me who typed that yeah Janis: soz, so many 🐶🗨 Jimmy: loads of bitches here an' all Jimmy: funny that Janis: not special, I remember Jimmy: none of us are, mate Janis: deep, barista boy Jimmy: be about right Janis: print that one on the cups or is that an original thought? Jimmy: SUCH a deep cut Janis: nah Janis: we ain't having that much fun Jimmy: no need to tell me, had my 😭 about it Janis: Poor baby Jimmy: loads of them here an' all if you want one Janis: 👶? Jimmy: I get it, you're thinking what'll I do Jimmy: don't worry I'll live, keep a few spare out the back Janis: yes, I'm well concerned about you Jimmy: you heard, no need Janis: can't help being nice, boy Jimmy: it's your blessing and/or curse, Jasmine Jimmy: nowt to do with me Janis: who brings a baby to a coffee shop Jimmy: what kind of question is that? Janis: serious one Janis: what kind of selfish dickhead Jimmy: the kind who'd call themselves a yummy mummy or whatever bollocks else Jimmy: massive group of 'em are having a sesh Janis: ew Janis: least there'll be less in the park Jimmy: tah @ the CG Jimmy: job done Janis: if only you could lock 'em in and turn the gas on Janis: 😍 Jimmy: could Janis: don't be a tease Jimmy: or what? Janis: Something bad must happen Janis: or they wouldn't say it Jimmy: ask Mr Lucas Jimmy: he knows Janis: what doesn't he Janis: galaxy brain to teach R.E. Jimmy: 😍😍😍 Janis: when you go postal, make sure my sister is in there and I'll make it worth your while anyway Jimmy: hot Janis: 'course Jimmy: ain't the rumour Janis: ? Jimmy: 🥶🧊👑 Janis: 🙄 Jimmy: weren't a denial Janis: What's to deny? Janis: the lads that spread that look like 🐁 Janis: not claiming them in a hurry tah Jimmy: you can just say every lad about, it's alright Jimmy: won't dob you in to your paddy ancestors or owt Janis: you said it, not me Jimmy: I did do Janis: you think you're well 😍 then, yeah? Jimmy: don't think about bollocks like that, too #deep Janis: 🤓 Janis: got it Jimmy: leave that one out of the rumour pile Jimmy: just ain't believable Jimmy: *😎 Janis: answered my question there Janis: smug Jimmy: 💔 Janis: 😘 Jimmy: 🥶🧊👑 Janis: 🐁 Jimmy: bollocks Janis: and? Janis: so's that for all you know Jimmy: never said it weren't Janis: you've said it twice, don't need to Jimmy: I've took the piss twice Jimmy: not taken it as gospel Janis: whatever Jimmy: 🙄 Janis: don't need the truth on 😎 or 🥵🔥👑 for this either Janis: just bring the 🐶 when you're done Jimmy: weren't offering it but alright Janis: then I can save you as 🐁🤓 and move on with my day Jimmy: don't need to save me as nowt, my dear Janis: easier than talking to a load of numbers Jimmy: what do we need to talk about? Janis: the 🐶 and the 💰 Jimmy: you'll get both Jimmy: 🗨 done Janis: you're the one who's shifts change, apparently Janis: so you'll need to tell me when Janis: it's no deeper than that Jimmy: @ my manager then, dickhead Janis: I'm being practical Janis: not a mindreader as well as a dogwalker, so you don't need to get aggro, dickhead Jimmy: you're being a dickhead 'cause I said you were 🥶🧊👑 Janis: No need is there Janis: just drop it Jimmy: 👏 Jimmy: peacemaker and 🐕🗨 Janis: Go be a twat somewhere else Jimmy: you wanna get 💰 or what? Jimmy: no tips if you've got a mard on Janis: don't see 🙂 anywhere in my job description Janis: work with animals not basic bitches Jimmy: ain't a massive difference Janis: less 🔊 Jimmy: depends on the 🐕 Jimmy: mine never shuts up Janis: I can wear 🎧 'cos don't need to hear their order Janis: un🍀 Jimmy: I can lip read Jimmy: and our menu ain't that grand Janis: obvs coming back for all your talents Jimmy: it were you who called the coffee shit Jimmy: what else could it be? Janis: dunno Janis: not as if I've ever had any Janis: hoping they were at least partially in it for their caffeine addiction Jimmy: for the #aesthetic Janis: 🙄 Janis: 'course Jimmy: if you need a selfie for your ad the lighting is 🔥🔥🔥 Janis: if ever I wanna put 'em in a phonebox Jimmy: kill off a couple of the 👴💕 Janis: only once I'm in the will, obvs Janis: counterintuitive otherwise Jimmy: duh babes Janis: can you not Jimmy: obvs Janis: then don't Jimmy: 👍 Janis: 🖕 Jimmy: 👌 Janis: 👋 Jimmy: 😘

[mistress-of-the-obvious]

Despite the need to have quick takes on subjects, sometimes if not often times, it’s better to let things settle wait for more information, and find out your opinions on things.  With this, I’m going to go back over the events with Spacecraft, Yuki Kajiura, and Kalafina.

On March 13th this year Spacecraft finally announced Kalafina’s dissolvent. @westkana pointed out to me that this was also the date that Spacecraft confirmed that Keiko was leaving. Here’s one of his sources: https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/news/2018-03-13/singing-unit-kalafina-agency-confirms-1-member-will-leave/.128905

The owner of https://vk.com/club_kalafina, Webteste Doityourself (be sure to follow his site – he’s awesome) noted that Wakana’s pamphlet from last year was in the Kalafina area and not in her new one.

A few months later we started getting some songs released from Hikaru and Keiko is now back touring with FictionJunction.

All signs point to there being a non-compete clause in the contract regarding Kalafina that lasted exactly a year. During that year span from March 13, 2018 to 2019, all content was contractually Kalafina. That is why Wakana’s pamphlet last year is placed there. This was likely so that Spacecraft and Sony could better sell the 10th Anniversary movie, concert, as well as the Best Of set.

One thing I found absolutely fascinating were the tweets from Japanese Twitter. There was a lot of anger stating that Spacecraft had no right to announce such since Kalafina was Yuki Kajiura, Keiko, Wakana, and Hikaru and they did not announce such. It was one I could understand on an intellectual level, but not an emotional one.

Prominent voice actor Jouji Nakata was voiced his own displeasure by posting a photo of himself with Kalafina stating, “I hope my princesses will be back someday!” He also liked and retweeted a tweet by Kyorakuhigurasi, which went viral. As you can see, I provided both with a Google translation. It was tweet after tweet with the same sentiment. It’s rather uncommon to see so many Japanese people angry like that. This explains Yuki Kajiura, Keiko, and Hikaru’s joint statement. Which you can see here as a refresher: http://fictionjunction.com/kalafina20190314/#

Spacecraft owns the trademark so technically they’re right about Kalafina disbanding. Fans are also right about Kalafina not being a name, but the people who comprise it. Had Spacecraft been a US company it would have been phrased something like this, “We are saddened to announce Kalafina is no longer managed by us. Right now, each have their own personal projects. We support all involved in their endeavors now and in the future.” As for why Spacecraft didn’t? Seems pretty obvious that it’s because they’re bitter.

Trademark is also based on use/disuse unlike copyright. The phrasing of the announcement could be considered abandonment, which I find really interesting. Of course, I’m not a Japanese trademark lawyer and time is what typically shows abandonment. I’ll return to my thoughts on the trademark claim a bit later here.

A few months later we were greeted to The Weekly Bushun article. I’ve seen a couple of versions of the article. Interestingly, the online Weekly Bushun article left out a big detail that another versions got (which makes me think it’s an also a paper - it’s also possible I just missed it there). Here’s where I got the information: https://news.livedoor.com/article/detail/16444902/

For a recap, when the last president of Spacecraft retired and the new president took over, he brought in a female official from Takarazuka Revue. He wanted Kalafina to be managed more like a typical pop group diminishing Yuki Kajiura’s role. This happened in 2016.

Yuki Kajiura was by far the longest talent in Spacecraft going back to at least 1997. She was also their big money maker. I don’t know how far back in the company Mr. M, assumed to be Yasunori Mori, goes back. Just that he was a long time trusted manager.

I can confirm this part of the rumor. I’ve heard that the new president was a big fan of Takarazuka Revue and wanted to change the company to fit more in line with his interests much to the dismay of various talent for a few years now. I also heard about a mystery female executive taking over Yuki Kajiura’s role in the Arena Live tour.

The key critical detail I didn’t notice on some other articles, which is in the Live Door version (doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, just that I didn’t see it) was the setting where the president yelled that Yasunori was a “spy” for Yuki Kajiura. The location was at Budokan at the Arena Live concert. He yelled this in front of his friends, family, and co-workers.

One of my favorite classes that I took in college way back in the early 2000s was Introduction To International Business. I love culture books that are often marketed to business people moving to nations long term and still buy them. One of the big things in business in Japan that is drilled: Do not scold, correct, or praise someone in public.

Japan is a culture based on harmony, so if I were a manager overseeing Japanese people if I noticed someone making a simple mistake and went over stating, “Oh you did this wrong. It needs to look like this. Simple mistake, it’s okay.” I disrupted harmony and gave that person a loss of face. Face can be summed up as something that can cause someone embarrassment, unwanted attention, or otherwise. It’s a little more complex than that, but it gives you an idea.

Another aspect of Japanese culture is sometimes referred to as “The Iron Rice Bowl.” This means it’s expected to promote within the company rather than bring in someone from outside. The idea is if you get into a company you should be promoted with good work until you retire. This decayed a bit after the great recession in the early 1990s, but it’s still there. So to bring in someone new at high level management is going to bring in a lot of discomfort, and the executive was going to face increased scrutiny. Some of this goes back into the concept of harmony. It certainly doesn’t help that based on the article, some thought she wasn’t qualified and she wasn’t able to handle her new position. This may also be why the current president got into his position. He may have simply had the most seniority.

While you do see the loud boss yelling in anime, anime is like comparing Hollywood to real life in the U.S. It’s not tolerated here in the U.S. and it’s not typical or accepted in Japan. One can only imagine what the president said to Yasunori or Yuki in private especially after this incident.

I was talking to someone else (not sure if they want to be revealed) about much of this stuff and we agreed that with all the activity with Kalafina’s Harmony fanclub with trips to Taiwan and the like, that Spacecraft and Hikaru, Keiko, and Wakana thought things would be able to continue somehow.

All signs point to negotiations about how the group would continue breaking down by late autumn. This can be found in the Question and Answers section in FictionJunction Club 35 (Winter 2017 – the content is typically done a few months in advance). I’m going on memory, but Keiko’s comment was something along the line of how their year went, “The first half of the year went well. I started learning Chinese. The second half went poorly. I hope next year will be better.” Hikaru stated “Road,” while Wakana said, “Smile.” I remember Wakana’s sounding particularly sad and upset. I looked for Putschki’s translation, but couldn’t find it. I know it’s there somewhere.

We know Keiko sent out her resignation to Spacecraft requesting her contract terminated a few months early in late December. A few days after this, the trademark claim was filed. I thought because Yuki Kajiura created Kalafina, that perhaps she was somehow giving her claim to Keiko otherwise the trademark would belong to Spacecraft.

When Keiko left, it was simply two paragraphs that were approved by Spacecraft online as apposed to Kaori Oda’s long blogpost and Hikaru’s long handwritten note. All signs point to a very hostile work environment for Keiko and anger on the part of certain people in Spacecraft.

While the trademark claim was ruled and given a sentence of her claim not being valid without additional documents, it was actually rescinded a few days before. Less than a month later Hikaru left Spacecraft. Seeing how close they are, I estimate that this was not a coincidence, though that is just an assumption on my part. I now suspect Keiko thought she had to file the trademark claim for her own protection and possibly that of Hikaru.

Now focusing on Wakana, had her contract been up to be signed again before those negotiations broke down, this would mean her contract ends in the first half of 2020. We know that Spacecraft typically has three year contracts because of Ryu Murasaki.

If the name sounds familiar it’s because she was added to Wakana’s tour last year. I state this because it was made to sound like it was solely Wakana at first, then marketed as double bill. When I saw her name pop up, I looked her up. She’s formerly of Takarazuka Revue and joined Spacecraft in 2016 when the takeover happened. I found on the Spacecraft store, after Kalafina, she had by far the most merchandise. From there I also found out that she was also on the World Heritage Tour.

Going back to this I remember when Ryu Murasaki was added some of the responses were, “Oh, I guess they thought Wakana couldn’t handle the tour alone.” Again going back to the concepts of face and harmony, I wasn’t happy with the set up. It caused Wakana to look less capable and since Ryu was added later, gave her fans less time to buy tickets as well as create tension between Wakana’s fans that thought it would just be her.

Ryu left Spacecraft on May 31st, giving her resignation on April 20th this year. You can see the link here: https://hochi.news/articles/20190420-OHT1T50051.html

Exactly why, of course, we don’t know. While she came along with the female executive, she may have been uncomfortable with possible preferential treatment and the possible tense work environment.

From the time Hikaru quit, I went back from 2016 to then 2018 and found twelve talent left. During that time I could only find Ryu as joining. They do have a new boy band, TFG, so since then they have gotten more people. Still this will mean, from 2016, at least thirteen people have left at current date.

The one part of the article I have my doubts on is Keiko getting a massive ego. We know at a concert in the past she was visibly upset with the amount of attention she was getting over Wakana and Hikaru at an overseas convention. She has also stated in the 10th Anniversary movie that she grew as a person by learning to be attentive over Hikaru, and Wakana’s feelings as she was oblivious of that before. This of course, doesn’t mean she didn’t mess up at times since this was a growing skill for her.

Instead, I suspect any sort of conflict between the three had to do with the lack of direction and stress, as Yuki Kajiura and Yasunori Mori were restricted of their positions and left.  The high stress level could easily cause arguments that normally wouldn’t be there. If, for example, Wakana wanted to continue Kalafina while Keiko did not without Yuki, Wakana would be more sensitive to Keiko’s popularity. I need to note, I have no evidence or knowledge that Hikaru or Keiko have any conflict with Wakana and suspect it is an issue of contract issues, but I also have no evidence there isn’t a conflict either. I suspect that the informant meant things more like I state as the whole point of the article was to highlight the possibility of Kalafina reforming. If they hated each other, than one would think that would be the headline instead.

As to why Hikaru, Yuki, or anyone else hasn’t shown pictures or talked about Wakana much probably goes back to harmony again. If certain people within Spacecraft are angry at Yuki, Yasunori, and Keiko, I can imagine what the reaction would be if Hikaru posted a picture of her together with Wakana or if Yuriko Kaida tweeted something about her. Even if this wasn’t the case, showing such pictures and making comments alone can be seen as awkward.

Fast forward to now. There have been questions on Yasunori’s whereabouts since he left Spacecraft. I believe he may have helped with Yuri Matsuoka’s triple EP release .A, .B, and .C. Kaori provided backing vocals for some of the songs. Outside of that, I didn’t know where he was until recently.

Kugayama on the Canta Per Me Discord (which is where you can easily find me) was kind enough to buy me copies of Yuriko Kaida’s Porta and Jr.’s album along with the new pamphlet (he’s going back to Japan in a few days for the last two Tokyo dates – I’ve begged him for Yuriko’s new album and the photobook). While I was admiring Yuriko’s Porta CD, I looked at the back of the credits: Yasunori Mori (Highway Star). Kugayama had thought he retired.

I asked him about Highway Star since he mentioned it to me before and he said Yuki Kajiura’s FictionJunction Station seemed to be run on the same hardware. What I found was illuminating.

Highway Star delves into both PA Engineering and Artist Production. They manage Anisong artists as well as planning events and fanclubs. They are also invested in expanding to global markets (so anime conventions and potential concerts). You’ll see they have a lot of familiar names they’re managing: Jam Project, Masaaki Endou, GranRodeo, and Yorke from Old Codex.

Suddenly, a missing piece fit. When I was at Anime Expo last year, I noticed a lot of little things. Besides the fact that the FBM were May’n’s backing band, Ohira was the only manipulator for the entire concert, and the camera work for Yuki Kajiura was what I thought to be the best. Highway Star was likely the company providing the technical knowhow behind the scenes and some of the people likely worked with her in the past.

If you check their corporate site, you’ll see Yasunori Mori listed as an Executive Officer. The company was created back in 2009 and just recently announced a new business partner artist earlier this year: Yuki Kajiura. They also have ties to BandaiNamco.

You can see the links here: https://highwaystar.co.jp/about.html https://highwaystar.co.jp/ap.html https://highwaystar.co.jp/img/oshirase190304.jpg

I wouldn’t be surprised if either Hikaru or Keiko end up being managed by Highway Star for their solo careers.

So there’s my recap, with new information, and some idle speculation. We’ll never really know the truth, but the shadow of it still looms. I’m interested in all your thoughts.

#kalafina #fictionjunction #yuki kajiura #highway star #spacecraft #wakana ootaki #wakana otaki #keiko kubota #hikaru masai #h-el-ical #wakana

[mittensmorgul]

Today on the tnt loop: How To Sell Your Soul To Hell 101. 2.08 Crossroad Blues.

Dean’s been worried since 2.01 that John may have traded his soul for Dean’s life... and this is the episode where he gets the proof. He’s spent the season to this point on his “What’s dead should stay dead” streak, like with the Nice Guy™ in 2.04. Even the first few people they run into in 2.08, Dean feels justified in looking down his nose at them-- people who sold their souls for material gain, fame, and fortune.

First the architect who designed beautiful buildings, sure, but they end up talking to a colleague because he didn’t even have any family. Just his career. Then the surgeon, who yeah gained fame and fortune, but at least she saved a heck of a lot of lives, right? She was already a surgeon, she just wanted to be chief surgeon. She wanted to be in charge... and the only person who she shared her life with was apparently her housekeeper. Ambition that meant very little when the hounds came to drag them away.

It’s easy to feel like those folks were greedy, and therefore deserve what they got:

DEAN: Great. So we've gotta clean up these peoples' mess for 'em? I mean, they're not exactly squeaky clean. Nobody put a gun to their head and forced 'em to play Let's Make A Deal. SAM: So what, we should just leave them to die? DEAN: Somebody goes over Niagara in a barrel, you gonna jump in and try to save 'em?

But Sam persists, so Dean goes along with him. They find the guy who summoned the demon in the first place, who’s spent the last 10 years regretting not only his deal (he traded his soul for artistic talent, and he’s about to die penniless and alone with nothing to show for his life but a bunch of art nobody wants), but the fact that the demon stayed and made deals with a bunch of innocent people who didn’t even really believe or understand they were literally going to hell in ten years’ time for it. That guilt weighs on him, too...

GEORGE: Listen. I get that you boys want to help. But sometimes a person makes their bed, they've just got to lie down in it. I'm the one called that demon in the first place.  DEAN: What'd you do it for? GEORGE: I was weak. I mean, who don't want to be great? Who don't want their life to mean something? I just... I just never thought about the price.  DEAN: Was it worth it? GEORGE: Hell no.

And Dean gets just a bit more validation (or reverse validation? what do you call it when someone gets proof they’re unworthy?) that he wasn’t worth it, that John should never have made that deal.

And now we’ve arrived at the next Winchester Family Sacrifice Go Round, and the narrative wheel spins again. Feeling supremely justified and morally righteous, they find the final man who sold his soul. Dean coldly mocks the guy for selling his soul to get a girl, but...

EVAN: No. He's right, I made the deal. Nobody twisted my arm, that... woman, or whatever she was, at the bar? She said I could have anything I wanted. I thought she was nuts at first, but... I don't know how to— I was desperate. SAM: Desperate? EVAN: Julie was dying. DEAN: You did it to save her? EVAN: She had cancer, they'd stopped treatment, they were moving her into hospice, they kept saying... a matter of days. So yeah, I made the deal. And I'd do it again. I'd have died for her on the spot. DEAN: Did you ever think about her in all this? EVAN: I did this for her. DEAN: (advancing on him) You sure about that? I think you did it for yourself. So you wouldn't have to live without her. But guess what? She's going to have to live without you now. But what if she knew how much it cost? What if she knew it cost your soul? How do you think she'd feel? SAM: (putting a hand on DEAN'S chest, pulling him back) Okay, that's enough. You just sit tight, all right? We're going to figure this out. 

Just like John did for him, and would’ve likely done again... so would Evan.

(brief aside to lol that the demon Dean summons knows who he is, and tells him “I get the newsletter.” The demons have had a weekly Winchester column in their paper forever, haven’t they?)

Dean has a plan though... and he’s got a plan B as well. Plan A is almost clumsy for him, like he wanted the demon to think the obvious devil’s trap under his car was the best he could do, wanted her to underestimate him and let her guard down, so she’d follow him into the real trap-- which she does while she’s rolling along delivering the taunts about how John sold his soul for Dean’s life.

DEMON: No. I don't think so. I'm not going to put you out of your misery. DEAN: Yeah? Why not? DEMON: Because your misery's the whole point. It's too much fun to watch. Knowing how your daddy died for you, how he sold his soul. I mean, that's gotta hurt.  (DEAN is backed up against a wooden railing) It's all you ever think about. You wake up and your first thought is, "I can't do this anymore." You're all lit up with pain. I mean, you loved him so much. And it's all your fault.  (DEAN recoils as she gets more in his face.) You blew it, Dean! I could have given you what you need. DEAN: What do I need? DEMON: Your father. I could have brought him back. Your loss. Seeya, Dean. I wish you a nice long life. DEAN: Hold on. She stops, smiling.

His misery is the whole point. well, she’s right about that. This is all part of the longer game of breaking Dean enough to sell his own soul, giving him all the tools and knowledge to do it, but also destroying his self-worth in the process.

(and another aside to lol at a woman associated with darkness and death has told Dean that what he “needs” is one of his dead parents... this time John, but in 11.23 Amara actually does give him back Mary)

DEMON: I could give you ten years. Ten long good years with him. That's a lifetime. The family can be together again. John, Dean, Sammy. The Winchester boys all reunited.  (she advances towards him) Look. Your dad's supposed to be alive. You're supposed to be dead. So we'll just set things straight, put things back in their natural order. And you get ten extra years on top. That's a bonus.

“Proof” that Dean is “supposed to be dead.” Kinda hits hard.

But Dean had no real intention (at least not right then) to accept that deal. It did maneuver the demon into the actual trap, where Dean bargained to trade HER life/freedom for Evan’s. Rather than be exorcised and banished back to Hell, she agrees, and seals the deal with a kiss. But Dean has proof about John’s deal now (and that demons are creatures of their word... no doubting she was telling him the truth, or at least the most painful possible version of it)

SAM: He did it for you. DEAN: Exactly. How am I supposed to live with that? You know, the thought of him... wherever he is right now. I mean, he spent his whole life chasing that... yellow-eyed son of a bitch. He should have gone out fighting. That was supposed to be his legacy. You know? Not bargaining with the damn thing. Not this.  SAM: How many people do you think Dad saved? Total? DEAN: That's not the point, Sam. SAM: Evan Hudson is safe because of what Dad taught us. That's his legacy, Dean. But we're still here, man. So we gotta keep going, for him.

And here we have talk again of “legacies” and what that means to them, which becomes a big theme again in s12 (I mean it’s the whole point of 12.18, yes? selling out everything for the good of the family legacy?)

And we don’t yet know the Big Terrible Secret John told Dean before he died... that’s gonna linger out there all through 2.09 into cliffhanger territory before finally being revealed for the horror it is in 2.10...

Lies, manipulation, Dean’s crumbling self-worth, stripping away his cavalier facade that everything is fine and he’s coping fine (which we got a glimpse of when Andy forced him to tell the truth in 2.05, but has been getting consistently shakier as he’s forced to face the truth of what John did and his scrambling to adjust to life without John out there to tell him what to do as things so much further above their pay grade begin organizing a targeted campaign against the Winchesters for purposes as yet unknown). This is something John in no way prepared him for, and it’s all now suddenly on his shoulders as the world goes to literal hell around him.

Like Chuck doing the same thing in abandoning his angels... but more about that in the 2.10 report. This one’s getting long enough already. But just bear in mind that ALL of this was Chuck’s design anyway... his manipulation, these sorts of deals, familial sacrifices, and a bigger and bigger cosmic picture as the narrative spiral spins again.

#spn 2.08 #spn 12.18 #s14 hellatus rewatch #spn 14.20 #it's spirals all the way down #the ghost of john winchester #if you say 'mysterious ways' so help me i will kick your ass #spn 11.23 #spn 2.04 #performing dean #spiders georg of the tnt loop

[spooderson]

My newest fic where Peter cannot be stopped and Tony and Stephen are exasperated dads. Also it was inspired by that one post with a list of things Peter isn’t allowed to do.

Read on ao3

Peter, no! Chapter 1: Confetti

Peter was sure it was going to happen sometime soon. One of them had to realize that they were absolute idiots in love and ask the other one out. Stephen and Mr. Stark had been flirting with each other for more than half a year now, always getting flustered, when someone would bring the other one up while chatting. However, whenever someone would suggest asking the other one out, they would deny liking them and quickly walk out of the room.

This belief that they’d start dating sometime soon was why Peter was currently sneaking through the Tower with two giant bags of confetti, stuffing it into any possible crevice, from which it could be shot at them, when they inevitably confessed their feelings for each other. He had already covered the living room and kitchen and was debating if it was worth the trouble to sneak into Tony’s room and hide confetti there. He went and hid the confetti in the library, gym as he slowly made his way to Mr. Stark’s private lab.

In the lab he stopped dead when he saw the bots. His original plan was to just stuff confetti into the Iron man suits, but now he thought that maybe the bots could also be used for that.

“Hey, Dum-e, how would you feel to help me cause some mischief? It’s nothing too bad, I promise, just some lighthearted fun.” Started Peter.

At his words Dum- e whirred to face him, questioningly cocking it’s claw to the side.

“All you have to do is not tell Mr. Stark what I’m doing and let me stuff you with glitter. That’s all I’m asking. Pretty please?”

Dum-e seemed to make an ok gesture and moved closer to Peter, who got to work on securing the confetti on Dum-e.

“So, this is what you’re gonna do, Dum-e. You’ve seen how Mr. Stark and Stephen look at each other, right? Well, I believe that they’re bound to start dating soon. I mean, how long can you actually look at each other like that and not do anything, right? Also, me and Wong teamed up to get them dating? You know the guy who’s always with Strange, the wizard friend of his? The one with the weird fondness for sandwiches?? I mean, sandwiches are great, but not that good. Anyway, so we’ve been working together to get them to date, and so I thought that it’d be fun to throw confetti on them when they finally confess? Your job will be to shoot the glitter on them if they do it in the lab. Got it?” Dum-e used it’s claw to nip at the science t-shirt as if to say “ok, I get it, go on” and Peter started to ramble once again:

“I asked Friday to record and send me the video of that. You know how Mr. Stark and Pepper approved of me having the SI intern account? I plan to post the video on there. It should be hilarious, don’t you think, both of them flustered and happy, and then the glitter all around them??-” “Baby spider, Boss is approaching the door, if I could, I’d suggest hiding the glitter in the next two minutes” interrupted Fridays’ Irish accent.

“Uh oh, think Peter. Ahhh” Peter was frantically looking around trying to find someplace to hide the glitter” My backpack!!!” Peter shouted and scrambled to throw out the school textbooks and show the confetti bags into it.

Just as Peter finished fighting with the zipper Mr. Stark strolled into the lab wearing one of hi immaculate suits. He looked a little surprised to see him here, but quickly his eyes started to shine in excitement.

“What are you doing here? Friday didn’t tell me you’re here. And it’s not one of our scheduled lab days, is it?” After Peter quickly shook his head Mr. Stark continued “Well then, does baby spider need any help with his homework? Or we can work on some of the SI stuff? I have some new products launching soon, but I think we could improve them a little more.”

“Uh, actually, could you help me with physics? It’s nothing too hard, I just got a little confused with all the equations and now can’t find the mistake.”

“Sure, kid, I’ll help you. Give me the paper.”

After Peter gave him the paper with the homework Tony immediately spotted the problem and within 5 minutes they were done. “Uh, look at the time, Mr. Stark. I have to go, May will kill me if I’m late to dinner again. It was fun to see you, bye Mr. Stark, bye Dum-e!” Peter tried to gather all the books and papers from where he had thrown them when he was hiding the confetti.

“Pete, why aren’t you putting the books into the backpack? I’m sure that it’d be easier to carry all of that in there?”

“Uhhhm, the zipper is broken. Yeah, I can’t unzip it for the death of me. But it’s fine, I’m sure that once I get home, I’ll manage to fix it. There’s no need for a new backpack Mr. Stark, really. Bye once again!” Peter almost ran to the elevator.

Once Peter left, Tony just sighed and went to work on the new Stark phone. If Pete wanted, he’d tell him what’s got him acting so weird. The kid had gotten better about not telling anyone about his problems and if he was still acting this weird next week, he’d just put his extraordinary detective skills to use to figure out why Petey’s acting so weird.

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It had been four days since Peter had hidden confetti in any possible crevice at the tower, he’d event went as far as hiding glitter in his own room. And today was Saturday, which meant that all of the Stark family and friends were going to be at the Tower for the weekly family dinner. He stayed at the Tower through the weekends, so he was already there, but May and Stephen were going to be here in about an hour. Which is why Tony was walking around the penthouse asking him, Pepper and Rhodey which T-shirt looked best on him with those jeans and maybe he should just wear a suit. Peter and Rhodey were barely containing their laughter and after glaring at them one more time, Tony took Pepper with him to help him decide. Leaving them to sit alone in the living room because in his words “they were heathens who couldn’t be trusted”.

Just as Tony and Pepper walked back into the living room, the elevator doors dinged open and Stephen Strange along with May and Happy stepped out. Tony gave Peter and Rhodey one last dirty look and went to greet the guests. Peter also leaped off the couch and ran to give May and Stephen a hug.

Stephen and Tony were standing in the hallway, both staring each other down, but after they saw Peter coming towards them to say hello to Stephen, they quickly snapped out of it and turned their attention on other people. Peter just sighed at their stupidity and hugged the wizard, even though Stephen didn’t really like hugs, he had said to Peter that he doesn’t mind if it’s from people close to him.

They all ate dinner – which, as almost always, was just Italian takeaway, because Tony and Peter were terrible cooks and everyone else was busy working. Then they moved over to the TV for movie night. Peter sat on one couch with Tony, whose shoulder he was currently leaning on, and Stephen had taken up the place next to Tony. May and Happy were sitting together on the other sofa, and Peter had to admit, even though it was still very weird to see them dating, they were both very happy together and so he’d put up with the weirdness of it. Rhodey and Pepper had situated themselves on the last sofa, softly exchanging their remarks about the movie every now and then.

Halfway through the second movie, Peter was fast asleep, drooling on Tony’s shoulder, so Tony decided to carry Peter to bed, but then he didn’t come back to the living room, opting to instead go work in the lab. After about thirty minutes of sitting at his desk and thinking about Stephen he heard a soft knock on the door. He looked up, expecting to see either Pep or Rhodey, but was surprised to see Stephen there, trying to open the door.

“Fri, let him in.”

“You didn’t come back to finish watching the movie.”

“Yes, decided to work in the lab, productively spend my time and all that jazz.”

“Then where’s your work? It looks like you just came here to sit alone”

“Maybe I did.”

“Ahmm. I was planning on going back to the Sanctum, it’s getting late. But before I go, I wanted to ask you something.”

“Go on”

“I was meaning to ask, if you’d like to go to the new science exhibition at the New York Hall of Science museum? There’s this new exhibit about ecology and sustainability that I find very interesting.”

“It sounds like you’re asking me out on a date, are you?” asked Tony jokingly, while trying to mask all of his emotions, of course he’s not asking him on a date, right? That would require him to like Tony, and he doesn’t. Not in the way Tony likes him.

“I am. If that’s okay with you. Of course, if you want, we can just go as friends, whatever – “he didn’t get to finish as Tony stood up and crashed into him to hug him.

“It’s a deal. I want it to be a date.”

And that’s when they heard something go off and when they opened their eyes, both of them along with the whole lab were covered in confetti and glitter. Dum-e was standing in front of them, holding the empty confetti container and looking rather pleased with itself.

“Ok, who made you do this? It was Peter, wasn’t it? Don’t lie to me, I’ll sell you to a kindergarten” questioned Tony, while trying to get rid of some of the glitter and confetti stuck on his clothes. Dum-e just whirred apologetically and went back to the other bots at the other side of the lab. Tony turned around to start apologizing to Stephen about this, but Stephen beat him to it and said that it’s fine and then took out the stray piece of glitter that was stuck in Tony’s hair.

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Next morning, Peter was sitting on a stool eating his fifth bowl of cereal, when Tony walked into the kitchen.

“Why, pray tell, is there a video of me and Stephen getting covered in glitter, on your SI intern Instagram??” Peter smiled maniacally “Me and Wong have been trying to get you two together for about half a year now. I thought that it’d be fun to do something special for you both.”

“And you couldn’t think of anything else special? You had to cover us in glitter from head to toe? You know what, don’t answer that. How did you even know that he was gonna ask me out in the lab??” “I didn’t,” shrugged Pete “so I put glitter all over the Tower”

“You what??!”

“Um, yeah. I even went as far as putting it in my own room.”

“You’re going to go clean all of that up, and if you ever, and I mean ever, give Dum-e glitter again, I’ll ban you from the lab.”

“You wouldn’t dare. You love me wayy too much. Anyway, May needs me home, so I think I’ll just go home after taking a shower. But congratulations on your date, Mr. Stark!” Peter stood up from the barstool and after putting his bowl in the sink left the room. “Pete, wait, no-!”

#peter parker #tony stark #stephen strange #dum-e #peter cannot be stopped #idiots in love #confetti #Irondad and Spiderson #spiderson #irondad #fic #my fic #ironstrange #supreme family #doctor strange #Iron Man