#(also. no reason to stop at one single design. changing it keeps my art fresh)

[licollisa]

How come you always draw Chara and Frisk with different hair every time?

I always liked the fact that undertale's art is pixelated!!! you get this:

And you could interpret those few pixels however the hell you like. Just slap some traits that'd make them recognizeable and booyah. Can't go wrong with the design!

And as a bonus too you can see how other artists design these two. Artistic liberties all the way 🔥🔥🔥🔥

[pb-dot]

Word Find Tag

@dyrewrites tagged me to particpate in one of these. I haven't done this in forever, but His Impossible Brushstrokes should be a good hunting ground, as it is mostly done.

The words I'm looking for is: tight, blur, trap and sweet

I tag @owlsandwich @caffeineaddict980 @bard-coded and @amandacanwrite

Who'll be looking for point, rich, stage, and strange

Words and snippets below the cut:

Tight

In the kitchen, a wide open space outfitted with the fanciest kitchenware money could buy, Tomasz was preparing something fragrant and, presumably, delicious. The smell of what I came to understand to be some sort of tomato-based sauce made the hunger I had apparently been hiding storm out in the open, but that was secondary in my mind to the sight of Tomasz working on the food. In the lack of a better word, he seemed to have reached a higher plane of awareness. His eyes were open and alert, but there was a focus on the task that made me wonder if he had even heard me come in. The gas fire flickered, the sauce puttered, some sort of meat sizzled on a pan, and a pot of what I assumed was pasta boiled with quiet intensity. There was a poetry to the whole scene I realized, but it was not inherent. This was all Tomasz, it was his will that shaped this beautiful moment, perhaps in the same way his will shaped the art that had grasped my mind tight when I was a young man and just never let go.

The burners of the gas stove clicked off, dispelling the mesmer like a hypnotist snapping his fingers. Tomasz started plating up, his concentration was still intense as he arranged pasta, meat, and sauce on two plates, finishing the presentation with a single leaf of some herb, I assume fresh basil. Once the food was ready, Tomasz himself appeared to come back to my plane of reality.

Blur

Charles coughs, at first once, then two or three more times, I can see there’s blood in his spittle. It’s at this point I’m becoming aware I haven’t blinked for what feels like minutes.

“So I just start trying to rip the thing apart with my teeth,” Charles sounds almost resigned. “It hurts almost right away, but I can’t stop, and I keep trying and trying and at one point a tooth shatters against the wood and I keep going until a couple more break and the sharp shards of the thing still attached to my roots starts scraping against the wood and I just don’t get anywhere. I think the security guys get to me before I pass out from the pain, but it’s all… a bit blurry I suppose.”

I nod, gravely. I want to throw up, but I have to keep up the facade. “I understand,” I say, it’s just about all I can manage. I take a minute to silently choke down the bile in my throat. “And did you succeed in damaging the painting?”

“A bit I guess,” Charles shrugged. “From what I could see, the worst of it was actually from when I snagged it off the hook, a bit near the lower right corner got ripped on the canvas. It didn’t really change much?”

Trap

I wasn’t afraid of elevators, I told myself. I had no reason to be afraid of elevators and I certainly wasn’t going to have a panic attack on account of my journey in the vertical aluminum coffin, even if I did feel a slight coating of sweat on my forehead from the experience.

There was also the question of what would await me at the top, of course. If I were to design a trap to ensnare myself, I probably would make something like this. A mysterious, un-googleable club or society dedicated to the thing I am most passionate about, plant the idea and an invitation with a known collaborator of mine, and then make sure it happened in the most isolated place you could conceivably lure me to. A penthouse law office at night would be a pretty good place for this sort of thing. There were some points I’d improve, perhaps getting Mara to actually urge me to go would have me arrive more at ease and thus easier to jump, or maybe psyching me out was part of the plan.

Sweet

Oscar, I know you’re probably excitedly kicking your legs in the air and scribbling Gildebrant’s name in your trapper keeper or whatever it is you do all day, but please listen to me when I say this. The next text promised yet another link in the chain, so I waited while Mara crafted whatever devastating missive she was going to deliver next. I know you’re excited to go meet Gildebrant, but please don’t go all doe-eyed on the guy. This isn’t really my speed normally, but if I’m honest, I have a bad feeling about this whole setup. I don’t know if there’s actually anything to this whole Gildebrant Psychosis thing, and I don’t know if the man himself has anything to do with the thing if it’s actually real… but please be safe. The world’s a stupid place, but it’s just a tiny bit better of a place with you in it.

This was an unexpected track from Mara. She wasn’t what I’d call emotionally open under anything resembling normal circumstances, and while these definitely weren’t normal circumstances, it still felt weird. I let the whole message hang between us for a little while before I replied. Aww Mars, that’s sweet of you to say.

Fuck you, MN boy. Why don’t you clean your ass with that disgusting potato liquor you love so much!

[tlbodine]

Literary vs Genre Fiction

The divide between literary and genre fiction is one of those topics that gets endlessly debated in writer circles. You’ll see it making the rounds on social media every time a book gets some buzz for busting out of its category. You’ll hear it in MFA programs across the country. But what even is literary fiction? How is it actually different from genre fiction? Is one better than the other? Why does anybody care?

A lot of smart people before me have thrown their hat in this particular ring, but I’m going to try tackling this one anyway. 

First Off: What Do We Mean When We Say “Literary Fiction”? 

Defining the thing is almost the hardest part of this whole discussion, and that may be part of the reason why people argue so endlessly about the literary vs genre divide -- if you don’t have a clear definition of the categories, that divide can be drawn up just about anywhere. 

So before we dig into characteristics of literary fiction, let’s look at some clear examples. The Booker Prize is a literary award specifically given to works of literary fiction, so it stands to reason that winners of that award would be the best examples of the category, right? Here are some recent Booker Prize winners (as pulled from Powell’s bookstore): 

Margaret Atwood - The Testaments The sequel to A Handmaid's Tale, told as testaments from three female narrators in Gilead, a dystopian setting where women have been stripped of their rights.

Bernardine Evaristo - Girl, Woman, Other Twelve central characters, mostly black British women, lead intersecting lives with struggles of identity, race, sexuality, class, etc.

Anna Burns - Milkman A girl identified as "middle sister" catches the unwanted attention of "the milkman," a local paramilitary, and has to deal with the threat of violence and spread of rumors.

George Saunders - Lincoln in the Bardo A father-and-son story about Abraham Lincoln and the 11-year-old son who died of illness in the midst of the civil war, leading to them both struggling in a type of purgatory.

Paul Beatty - The Sellout A satire about an isolated young man who ends up at a Supreme Court race trial after trying to reinstate slavery and segregate the local high school in an attempt to put his town back on the map.

One thing becomes immediately clear about literary fiction when skimming through the titles and summaries of these award-winning books: These novels are well-nigh impossible to summarize in a way that actually sounds enticing. 

So okay. What are some genre fiction books, for comparison? There are genre fiction awards, like for example the Hugo award for Sci-Fi/Fantasy: 

Mary Robinette Kowal - The Calculating Stars A cataclysmic meteor collision in 1952 causes an accelerated effort to colonize space, leading to a woman fighting to join the astronaut team in this alternate-history book.

N. K. Jemisin - The Stone Sky The third in a trilogy of post-apocalyptic novels about two women with the power to avert destruction of mankind.

Cixin Liu - The Three-Body Problem Against the backdrop of China's Cultural Revolution, a secret military project makes contact with aliens whose civilization is on the brink of destruction, leading them to plan a takeover of earth.

There’s also the Edgar Award, which is given to mystery fiction (it’s named after Edgar Allan Poe): 

James A McLaughlin - Bearskin A man on the run takes a job as a park ranger, but runs the risk of being found by the men he's hiding from when he tries to expose some poachers.

Walter Mosley - Down the River Unto the Sea After spending a decade in prison for a crime he was framed for, former-detective King works as a private investigator whose investigation of his own frame-up leads him to cross paths of a journalist with a similar story.

Sujata Massey - Widows of Malabar Hill In 1920s India, Bombay's only female lawyer investigates a suspicious will on behalf of three Muslim widows, a case that takes a murderous turn.

These aren’t the best summaries in the world, but there does seem to be a stronger sense of both plot and character in the story concepts. At least, when someone asks, “What’s that book you’re reading about?” the genre fiction ones will have a somewhat easier time explaining it. 

So What REALLY Separates Literary From Genre Fiction? 

There are a lot of battle lines drawn between genre and literary fiction. I’ve heard it argued that literary is about character while genre is about plot; that literary is about the quality of the prose while genre is about the story; that literary is about experimenting while genre is about adhering to formulas. That literary is about expanding horizons while genre is about escapism and comfort. That literary is about realism and genre fiction is about fabulism. 

I think there’s a nugget of truth in all of these, but I’m not really happy with any of them. 

So I’m going to toss out my own hypothesis: I think the difference between literary and genre fiction is the way tropes are employed. 

“Okay, great, but what are tropes?” 

I’m so glad you asked. Fiction tropes are a type of shorthand. They are things that we the audience have seen before, so we know immediately what they mean. Tropes exist in characters, plot points, settings, concepts -- you name it. Here’s a sampling of tropes you might be familiar with: 

The tough lady-cop whose dad was a police officer 

Thanks to a mix-up, two people with hidden romantic feelings book the last available room at a hotel but there’s only one bed 

A man goes on a quest for vengeance but destroys himself in the process

The wise old man who teaches the young hero valuable lessons but then dies before the pivotal battle

And so on, and so forth. Every genre has its own tropes -- a formula, if you will. In that sense, genre fiction is formulaic, but that doesn’t make it easier to write; actually, a big part of the challenge is in giving fresh twists to familiar tropes. Readers of genre stories demand certain tropes; the author has to deliver on those demands in a fresh way.

By comparison, I would argue that literary fiction does not rely upon tropes. There certainly are tropes and conventions that emerge in literary fiction -- a middle-aged academic struggling through divorce, for example -- but these tropes are more often than not met with irritation, not delight. Readers of literary fiction are looking for fresh insights and innovations, not familiarity. 

Tropes are powerful tools. They are the mythic seed of storytelling. They are the archetypes that pass down through generations. They are a sacred backbone of mythology and folklore. Genre fiction, at the end of the day, carries the torch for storytelling in a long and (ha, ha) storied tradition from our prehistoric days huddled around a campfire. 

Literary fiction, on the other hand, eschews tropes -- with their agreed-upon meanings -- in favor of assigning fresh meanings to things. Literary fiction is chock full of metaphors, but it’s the author, not convention, that determines what those metaphors mean and how they’re employed. Literary fiction reinvents the wheel. When it succeeds, it hits on depth and emotional resonance that can be life-changing for the reader. When it fails, it comes off like so much navel-gazing nonsense. So it goes. 

Fiction Wars and Gatekeeping

The problem with the literary vs genre fiction divide is that it never stops with “This is how these categories are defined.” The problem is that people will insist on ascribing moral significance and hierarchy to them. 

Literary fiction is viewed as being smarter, deeper, more meaningful or more valuable than genre fiction. If a genre fiction story manages to break out and gain wider appeal, suddenly people will start ascribing to it literary attributes (whether or not the book and many others in the genre had them all along). And that is all a bunch of nonsense. 

It’s the exact same thing that happens in horror fiction -- when a horror story goes mainstream, suddenly it becomes a “psychological thriller” or a “dark drama” or anything other than horror, because “horror” is an inferior genre. 

The fact of the matter is that literary fiction gets elevated over genre fiction for systemic reasons: 

Most MFA programs focus on writing literary fiction, which means that a lot of lit-fic authors come out of those programs, which means that literary fiction is often the domain of upper-middle-class, frequently white, people who can afford to graduate from those programs

A focus on dense prose and “difficult” writing means lit-fic books must be analyzed and interpreted; it’s hard to read, making it exclusionist to people who lack formal education 

Lit-fic dominates awards, gets pushed heavily onto book clubs, is talked about more often on daytime TV and so forth (because it is perceived as being better/more important, thus creating the ongoing cycle)

Basically, lit-fic gets held up as an example of Fine Culture. And any time something is designated as Fine Culture and High Art, it is subject to a completely arbitrary classist distinction meant primarily to keep out an undesirable element (women, BIPOC, poor people, you name it). 

That’s not a problem endemic to lit-fic itself. It’s really a problem of the culture surrounding it, and attempts to hold it to a higher esteem than genre work. 

Cross-Pollination Is Inevitable and Desirable 

How do tropes get made? 

Someone comes up with a new metaphor, concept, character, or idea that resonates so deeply that others who follow borrow that same thing and its meaning, and it gets repeated enough times that it becomes a stock trope. 

In other words, every single piece of genre fiction exists because someone writing in some other established tradition decided to experiment and go off on a tangent to create something really fresh and new -- and knocked it so far out of the park that people were compelled to follow. 

People like to pretend that the overlap and blurred lines between genre and literary fiction are somehow a new trend, but the fact is that this has been the trajectory of fiction-writing for the whole history of storytelling. 

Literary agents have a term for this: Upmarket fiction. Books that “transcend” genre definitions to appeal to readers on either side of the aisle. And those are highly sought-after books, because they have the potential of bringing in double the readers. 

So, snobby gatekeeping aside, is there any real reason to argue about the definition of literary vs genre fiction? 

I’d say...no. Not even a little bit. I’ve got a mix of both on my shelves. I incorporate a mix of both in my writing. And I don’t see that changing any time soon. 

A Final Note 

I mentioned above that lit-fic tends to be written by people in MFA programs, and I wanted to touch on that again as an MFA drop-out and someone who was once warned by a teacher not to bring “any more of that genre nonsense” into the classroom. 

I can understand, from a teaching perspective, why writer’s workshops would want to focus on lit-fic. From the perspective of learning how to write, forcing writers to derive stories from their experiences, to dig deep into themselves and ascribe unique meaning to things, to develop their own metaphors and hone their craft at the sentence level -- all of that makes a lot of sense. Banning genre tropes is a way to force writers to hone their craft without leaning on the work of generations of storytellers before them, and as a teaching tool I think that’s actually really valuable. 

But I think it’s pretty important that we keep that in context. The lit-fic focus in writing classes should be a teaching tool first and foremost. It should not be the end-all and be-all of writing classes.

This post topic was voted on by my Patreon subscribers. If you would like to vote for future posts and get early access to posts before they go live on tumblr, you can become a patron here: https://www.patreon.com/tlbodine

[imasimpforstevengrant]

Why do we like this clown so much?

Change the "we" for "I" and you get an usual tag I use whenever I post my content in Tumblr. And it sounds funny at first but whenever you start diving into that phrase, the deeper it becomes. So, I finally have decided to share my thoughts about this strange but wholesome attraction to this deeply flawed character. It's not something I usually do since I don't know how to write down my feelings properly and also in english so please forgive any typos (I'm from Chile so don't be surprised lol).

So...Why do we like this clown so much?

Why was it that a character precisely designed to scare and to disgust the fuck out of us ended up unchaining a series of feelings that shouldn't have taken place in a beginning?

Let's take a look at the background: Joaquin Phoenix was cast as Arthur Fleck/Joker in 2018. The first image of him as the aforementioned character revealed a deeply disturbed man. We knew the plot. A man driven to insanity after a brutal history of abuse, creating concern in people if the upcoming film would inspire real life violence. Incel violence and mass shootings, more specifically.

(the image in question)

As 2019 arrives, the two trailers generated so much hype that media needed to fuel its concern about it. Since it wasn't your typical comic book film, media basically bombed our minds making us believe this film was going to be a total disaster, an excuse to cause harm to others among other nonsense, as if the film would justify everything Arthur would do in the film, eventually. As the release date is closer, the film receives thunderous applause and unanimous praise from critics. At this, fans rejoiced and expressed impatience to watch the film.

October 5th.

People left the theaters amazed, shocked and genuinely moved by the inhuman treatment Arthur received in the film. The fear media tried so desperately to infuse in us with all the incel bullshit and such turned out to awake one of the most positive, best feelings in humans:

E M P A T H Y

The word that so gloriously cleared away any dark thoughts or actions not only proves media was wrong but it turned out to ridicule it in way nobody will forget: Hundreds of people advocating for mental illness, calling out to the kindness that could change a person's bad day and questioning how politicians and rich people are indifferent to social problems proved how much as a society we have changed in comparison with the one shown in the film.

However, since we are on Tumblr, I'll get straight to the point and try to explain why the fuck does this clown has us dying out of love and compassion (and lust).

I. Background.

As nurturing as we women are for a biological matter, we see a man deprived of a good job, is on seven different medications, working like a slave to sustain his ill mother, putting aside his own health and well-being to look for her, struggling to make his dream of being a comedian despite everyone stepping on him, underpaid and treated like a freak for a disorder he did not ask to suffer, which makes it impossible to be indifferent to all the horrible ordeal that eventually will reach the limit of what he can tolerate without going insane. It is impossible to not say or think, at least, that someone (even if it's just one person) should stand for him just as it is impossible not to feel the need to throw ourselves at him to shield him from people who hurt him or simply offer him our shoulder whenever he has had a bad day, specially when he learns he was sexually assaulted by his step father.

This horrid behaviour terrifies newer generations because they get a taste of what being a social outcast was like more than thirty years ago in comparison with today, where there's more acceptance and treatment for mentally ill people like Arthur. We see in him someone who could have been saved with a proper education and emotional support instead of descending into madness as a criminal. Others simply saw themselves being treated like him at some point in their lives and couldn't help but put themselves in his shoes.

II. Personality.

TRUTH BE TOLD:

There's something called "attraction by proximity". It is the explanation to the eventual love you feel whenever someone doesn't catch your eye at first terms of physical attraction but his/her personality does attract you. This happens to be the base of this situation. His shyness, introverted nature, tenderness and innocent desire to make people laugh and put on a happy face awake some kind of tenderness we cannot resist. This combined with the gloomy background increases our understanding (but not justifying) of the bad decisions he'll eventually take during the course of the film. This traces a line of harsh, almost hurtful contrast of the violence he shows later on the film. Once again, it is not justified in any way but it is certainly understandable.

III. Appearance.

Arthur Fleck is unconventionally attractive.

This happens to be a plus for most women. He is out of the male beauty standards (no abs, not too muscly or particularly tall), which makes him even more unique. It is precisely the fact that he's not a model one of the reasons women love him. He could easily be your man next door or your colleague or the guy you always see but never dare to talk for fear to bother him Because it's about proximity. Arthur looks like your common neighbour. He's not meant to be your typical desirable male protagonist at all.

... And yet.

Jesus Christ, he's so fucking hot I can't even---

It's not about how beautiful his green eyes are, his long slender fingers, his hair or his smile only. It's the charm behind it.

Another "magnet point" is the way he dresses. I know he's impoverished and his wardrobe tend to be repetitive but it is so unpretentious, so simple that is hard to not fall for. The modesty of the shirts, ironed trousers reminds us of a mature man deeply withdrawn into himself, love starved and longing to be seen and loved by others, like a war veteran who still fights the most important war: with himself. Is someone who needs to be listened and understood.

AND OF COURSE WHAT'S NOT TO LIKE ABOUT IT?

He's also brought back the old gentleman outfit, white shirts, red/yellow vest, red suit and elegant dancing moves and the retro style of the film boosts this attractiveness.

People keep comparing him with the previous interpretation of Joker (Leto's) whose costume appealed to young women with a tattooed, gangster, mumble rapper crazy-guy wannabe which didn't connect with the audiences (young people in general). This supposedly was to match or even have a sexy, tormented and desirable villain like Marvel's Loki. We all know how that story ended but it's the link for the next point below.

IV. Transformation

This is a particularly strong point considering how much we loved to watch the process of this weak, powerless, forgotten caterpillar into a beautiful and visible butterfly that will gracefully stir its wings for everyone to see its colours.

When Arthur transitions to the Joker, it's so cathartic to see taking revenge on those who wronged him (even when we're not supposed to root for him) like seeing his shyness fading away into a vivid confidence when dancing half naked in the bathroom, or witnessing him making way to make his name known to people in Murray Franklin's Show:

Adding to this newly gained confidence, there's another turn on: the way he walks.

At the beginning, his pace is hunched and limping, displaying his submission to violence, which makes the viewer more satisfied to see his broken yet beautiful soul turning the past pain of his existence into art: he lets music guide his moves as a way to tell the world he's a new man by cutting most of the sick, evil roots that harmed him, that he's invincible, that no one can stop him. Watching this cathartic display of euphoria was the most iconic scene in the film, following his speech at the TV and the inevitable meltdown that caused Murray's death.

Going to further appreciation, even his clown make up is beautiful. Why? Simple. The combination of colours, shapes and the intimidating glare just embellishes even more the character.

The dark blue triangles in his expressive eyes makes the light green colour to highlight, specially in dark backgrounds, giving the impression he's piercing your soul whenever he stares directly at the camera. Same can be said about the red smile and emerald green hair. They boost an already intimidating look.

The cold and warm colours paint a picture of a man full of intense emotions, mirroring it in a simple yet masterful artistic way.

Another interesting point is the way Joker dresses. Usually we had almost every single live adaption of this character in purple coat, hat, etc. But this particular version is not following any comic, which gives more freedom to creativity and once again, out of the standards of what we could have expected.

Red is a colour related to passion, action, love, strength, motivation and excitement. As for yellow, it indicates freshness, happiness and enlightenment and finally, green. Green is renewal, growth and regeneration. Colours that represent a new stage in his life, a mirthful chapter at last. We finally get to see our battered, always humiliated protagonist (or hero) descending into madness, but finally free from his repressed man who held his soul captive like a bird to fly away, to never come back. An insanity that despite being his downfall, turned out to be his ticket to freedom as he walks to the light in Arkham Asylum dancing at the end.

Ladies and gentlemen: behold the film nobody asked... But the film we fucking deserved.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk

❤️💚💛

[thesilkenlair]

(Casey Here!)

As much D&D as I play, you'd imagine I would eventually get around to illustrating some of their most iconic monsters! Which is to say, the ones that I personally find the most iconic. Which is to say, the ones I memorized when I was reading my dad's monster manual at age nine. Purple worm - Sandworms never go out of style. I've seen a lot of rad designs for this bugger over the editions, but I favor the slightly less reptilian older takes for this particular critter. It's kinda basic, but sometimes that's what you want. It's like a shark or a crocodile: Just flat out unchanged across the ages. Hook horror - I've heard it rumored that Gygax used a small Gigan figure to represent this monster. I can't verify that, but it definitely sounds right. Hook horrors are one of the very first things you meet when you play around in the caves, and they kind of remind me of the Father Deep monsters of the Hork Bajir homeworld that way. Mind flayer - Mind flayers! Basically, take all of your Dracula conventions and dip them in a fresh coat of Lovecraft. There's that old "decadent aristocratic upper caste system who literally eats the poor, but still somehow comes across as less evil than the actual real life 1%" setup that will never stop being relevant. Though personally, I see mind flayers as the first alternative for folks who want to play that monster-who-feels-the-urge-to-eat-their-friends-but-refuses-to-do-it shtick but don't want to deal with vampire baggage. You know, the furry option! ... Slimy? Rubbery? Do we have a word for anthro-cephalopods? I'm only a casual furry. Gelatinous cube - I'm not apologizing for giving this one a slot. Froghemoth - So, back when I participated in my very first long-term campaign, I played a druid. You've met Talia before. Naturally, I was chomping at the bit for the day I finally got to turn her into a froghemoth, and celebrated the day my wish was finally granted and she was allowed to chug human-supremacist-cultists like popcorn. Yeah, okay, the froghemoth is one of the classic vore-monsters. But it's a charming design in its own right. Kind of a freaky Hanna Barbara critter, like you'd see Space Ghost fighting. No matter how many artists draw it, they can never shake that inherent goofiness that third edition tried so hard to purge. I would probably cram them somewhere onto Fronterra if I was sure they were public domain. As is, I'm 99% certain that this is what Visser Three turned into when he ate Elfangor. Tarrasque - D&D's original kaiju! Kind of just takes the name and nothing else when it comes to its mythological origins, but I don't mind. The Tarrasque is that endgame "let's test the players" final boss monster... Or at least it's supposed to be. My DM reskinned it for our final Pathfinder session, and one of the PCs still nearly killed it in a single turn. Also, he let Talia turn into one, so maybe Pathfinder is just bullshit? Regardless, the Tarrasque has one of those simple, iconic designs. I've heard rumors it was based on the concept art for Fallout's deathclaws, and like the Gigan-figure, I can't verify this in any way. With its reptilian features, twin horns, spiny carapace and grabby fingies, it has an undeniable lizardlike quality that I can't help but find charming. Kinda feels like a more refined version of Zilla? Though for an insatiable eating machine, I notice a lot of artists give it very little belly to work with. Come on, this guy eats entire cities! Give him somewhere to put it! Rust monster - An icon of icons, the rust monster! Drawing its origin from a bizarre Chinese "dinosaur" toy, later designs have made it more insectoid in appearance, but never feeling QUITE like anything Earthly. It's the four limbs. Between the four limbs and the tail, it's hard to tell if it's an arthropod mimicking a vertebrate or the other way around. I'm pretty sure this is part of what inspired my ossaderm creatures for Fronterra. Also, Ryla can turn into one in our campaign. I have no shortage of havoc to wreak when the opportunity comes. Behir - Dragons in D&D are kind of... extra. Godlike beings, paragons of whatever personality trait they represent. Whenever there's something uber powerful in D&D, it gets compared to dragons. It makes them kind of unapproachable. Behirs provide all the essentials of a dragon - Serpentine body, scaly skin, horns, sapience, breath weapon, taste for human flesh - wrapped up in a smaller, weirder, IMO cooler package. You know, your Lambton Worms. A lot easier to port in and out of adventures, a lot less of an event when they show up, but still a formidable force in their own right. I like the behir. The behir knows how to taunt me just the right amount. Bulette - Another Chinese "dinosaur" figure monster, the bulette is actually another one I associate with Talia. Whenever we faced a problem that didn't have a glaringly and immediately obvious solution, she would turn into a bulette, whether it was for beating up robots, digging through obstacles, trampling smurfs, navigating labyrinths, distracting slashers with cute dog tricks... it was kind of her signature form. But shenanigans aside, the bulette is just an excellent monster. While the "land shark" shtick may be common, there's a lot more going on with the bulette's design. It's rumored to be a mad wizard's creation, as he combined a snapping turtle with an armadillo and mixed in a helping of demon blood to taste. Personally, I always considered that to be a neat little rumor to flesh out the world, but never assumed it to be true. The bulette just feels too naturalistic for that. Like some kind of protomammal or crocodylomorph, or weird triassic monstrosity. Magic and demons and dragons and so on DO affect the ecosystem. I always figured the bulette was just something that evolved to compete in this new biosphere. Owlbear - This one, on the other hand, I fully believe the "mad wizard was bored" explanation. Another chinasaur critter, the owlbear is frequently made fun of. What makes it scarier than a regular bear? It can't fly, so why have owl parts at all? Why trade fangs for a beak in what is at best a latural move? Well, first of all, fuck you, owls are creepy motherfuckers, and that alone is enough to justify it. But secondly, that's part of its charm. Besides some improved vision, the owl DOESN'T make it more dangerous. What makes the owlbear dangerous is that it's an insane, Frankensteinian monstrosity roaming uncontrolled through the wilderness! It doesn't need weaponry, its sheer temperament is enough to make it a worthy opponent. Sure, the practical threat might not be hugely above that of a bear, but storytelling isn't about numbers. Any asshole can go outside and get eaten by a bear. The owlbear is part of this world. The owlbear is a reminder of what magic can do. Someone somewhere actually made this thing, for whatever reason, and now the world is irrevocably changed because of it. Owlbears go beyond practicality. They bring the lore! Also, bears don't have very good eyesight, so the big owl eyes probably make them better hunters. Flumph - Is that a Japanese-style martian? Do we just have aliens in D&D? Dear lord, I love them! Okay, the flumph has got a sizable hatedom. And that hatedom can eat my ass, because the flumph is precious and perfect just the way it is! Flumphs are designed as a sort of sidekick-type creature. They're not very good fighters, but they bring knowledge and lore to the table. Whether they're aliens from some far off star, seeking your aid to prevent catastrophe, or psionic natives of the Underdark eager to bask in your positivity and hopefully stick it to the tyrants they're forced to share real estate with. My group generally treats them as straight up aliens, benevolent but strange. Course, we're all pretty strange, so we get along just fine. Otyugh - Okay so, the aberration creature type implies that this is something from another world that doesn't belong. And yet otyughs, which are aberrations, are an essential part of this world's ecosystem? Okay, I can buy the idea that an alien organism adapted to our world and is now a key part of it. Fronterra's got a TON of that. It just feels like after a point, the otyugh would be considered a beast? Otyughs are great. Every ecosystem needs a decomposer, and every fantasy story needs at least one dive into the sewers. Otyughs provide both, and are intelligent enough to keep the plot moving if it hits a snag. There's always going to be garbage, refuse, carrion, decay, things that need to be broken down and processed. Carrion crawler - The carrion crawler is pretty similar to the otyugh in that it's technically not considered a beast, and therefor must have its origins elsewhere, but feels so integrated into the ecosystem that it just feels like it belongs. They usually can't talk, so they're not just reskinned otyughs, but I still consider them pretty essential. Otyughs find a singular spot where waste is dumped and shovel it down at their leisure, while carrion crawlers skulk through the tunnels, actively seeking their food. The crawler got one of the most radical redesigns on the transition from second to third edition, but I can't really choose a single favorite. The oldschool tentacle-faced cutworm looks like it could be a real animal, while the googly-eyed Halloween decoration feels like it could be from another world, merely having set up shop here. Could there name apply to two wholly different creatures? If so, then I'm not sure which one mine would be considered. I kinda mashed them together into something that doesn't quite feel like either. But I like it for what it is. Maybe I'll sneak it onto Fronterra. Aboleth - Tentacled, telepathic sea creatures who turn humans into slimy minions, who remember everything their race has ever seen, and who are always plotting something behind the scenes. Yeah, the aboleths really crank up the Lovecraft elements. Actually, between the mind flayers, the flumphs and the aboleths, even the most oldschool D&D covered quite a few essential Lovecraftian bases. The flayers are your corrupt yet still recognizable humanoids who can be considered truly evil, the flumphs are benevolent-yet-bizarre guardians who know more than you, and the aboleths are the truly unknowable, sinister intellects. The fact that they can barely function on land honestly only adds to that, IMO. They're inherently difficult for a party to reach, and they offer some nice underwater adventure seeds. Not enough adventures go underwater. There's this perception that the ocean is bad for storytelling because so many writers lack the creativity to make it work. I wanna run an underwater adventure now. Beholder - Icon of icons! THE D&D monster! The beholder! Paranoid, jumpy, always five steps ahead and twenty steps perpendicular! Beholds are fun in just about every way. Between their wacky, diverse designs, their elaborate lairs, their eccentric personalities, their bizarre powers, you're never gonna run out of fun with beholders. Remorhaz - It's always been a thing that bothered me with environment-based monsters. Why does the ice monster who lives in the cold use ice as a weapon? Aren't most of the things it encounters going to be resistant to the cold? Sure, a cone of cold will still kill a polar bear, but a lot of the monsters in the tundra are outright immune to cold. A while dragon's not going to get much use out of its breath weapon fighting frost worms and frost giants. That's one reason the remorhaz sticks out to be. We have an icy tundra beast whose insides are a scorching furnace, which it can intensify and weaponize as it sees fit. Which also conveniently explains why its design - a sort of cobra-esque centipede - invokes warm-weather creatures, despite its icy environment. It's a nice subversion of the usual tropes, plus it's just a memorable, cool looking critter to begin with. On a smaller note, the remorhaz feels like a good loophole for Ryla's "no cold weather morphs" rule. Turning into something elementally affiliated with ice is no good, but a non-magical monster that survives the cold by superheating its insides? That seems perfectly viable to me!

[dippedanddripped]

Debbie Harry doesn’t believe in harbouring regrets. “I have made many, many errors, but nobody leads a perfect life,” she reflects down the telephone from New York. “So, should I regret anything? No. It is a waste of time. It really is a waste of time.”

Dial back to the turn of the 70s and the life that Harry led before fronting Blondie – prior to her image being burned onto the retina of popular culture – was colourful to say the least. “I was so desperate to live life,” she says of her time spent hanging with the outcasts and artists of downtown New York. “I was jamming in as much experience as I possibly could and I don’t know if I could have done anything differently. I learned a lot.”

The old Bowery music venue CBGBs has long passed into music folklore as the place that called the likes of Television, Patti Smith, and the Ramones their house bands. It was also where punk and new wave progenitors Blondie cut their teeth before they sashayed into the wider world with the protean panache that would make them a household name. Classic singles such as “Heart of Glass”, “Call Me”, “Atomic”, and “Rapture” have been responsible for more worldwide rug-cutting than an industrial carpet tool. To imply that they were merely a solid singles band is to do them a cardinal disservice, however.

And although they’ve always cocked their attention to the things ahead of them, Harry and her Blondie cohorts have spent a lot of time looking back just lately. Harry’s long-awaited autobiography, Face It, hit the shelves last year, and Blondie co-founder and one-time partner Chris Stein published Point of View: Me, New York City, and the Punk Scene, a photography book featuring personal snaps taken during the band’s pomp in the 70s and early 80s. “We can’t keep on touring and doing club dates the way that we used to. It would be physically impossible,” Harry concedes. “Living through this pandemic has certainly made us take a long look at the value of what we’ve got with our body of work.” Asked if it is a process of attempting to frame their legacy, she admits it’s something that they “have to do”.

This deep-dive into their canon has culminated in a mouth-watering archive set, Blondie: Against the Odds 1974-1982, slated for release next year. Coming in four formats, it promises to include extensive liner notes, “track by track” commentary by the entire band, a photographic history plus rare and unreleased bonus material. The group will also go out on the road – coronavirus permitting – for an autumn Against the Odds UK tour with Garbage.

The artist born Angela Trimble was put up for adoption only a few months after she was ushered into the world in the summer of 1945. A loving New Jersey couple took her in, rechristened her Deborah Harry, and raised her as their own. She grew up in a suburb that she “never left”,  was voted best-looking girl in her high school yearbook, and oscillated within a social circle that consisted of “many of the same people” throughout her childhood. “I was somehow shy within that,” she recalls, “(but) somebody once said to me that being shy was an ego trip and a light went on in my head. I thought, ‘Oh, uh-huh, let’s have none of that!’”

Harry travelled by bus as a curious teen to nearby Greenwich Village, imbibing the febrile inner-city atmosphere. In 1965, she graduated from junior college with an associate of arts degree and New York’s allure became too enticing to resist. She decamped to the bright lights of the city and made ends meet with a succession of odd jobs, including secretarial work for the BBC, waiting tables and an infamous nine-month stint as a Playboy Bunny.

The period was a traumatic one, too, with Harry enduring an ex-lover-turned-violent-stalker and a near-miss with serial killer Ted Bundy (although Bundy’s identity is contested by others). In her memoir, she writes candidly of the time she was raped by a man wielding a knife while on her way home from a concert with Stein. Music offered a vessel for her creativity, and she spent time as part of girl group The Stilettoes and folk ensemble Wind in the Willows before her meeting with guitarist Stein which set the foundations for Blondie. Their classic lineup was completed by Gary Valentine (bass), Jimmy Destri (keys), and Clem Burke (drums).

“Somebody once said to me that being shy was an ego trip and a light went on in my head. I thought, ‘Oh, uh-huh, let’s have none of that’” – Debbie Harry

Although they self-identified as punks, the parochial and nihilistic mandate as promulgated by the genre’s militant diehards never fit Blondie comfortably. The group looked outwards from the moment they started, drawing inspiration from their cosmopolitan city. Their sound was a melting pot pulling at the seams of culture’s fabric, and they would weave their own patterns from it.

Harry agrees that their eclecticism was down to good fortune in coming from the “metropolitan area of New York” where they ingested “a lot of musical influences”. Taken as a whole, their catalogue bears this out. Blondie never stood still musically – yet never sounded like anyone else – and they loaded their songs with more hooks than a fisherman’s trawler. 1976’s punchy, eponymous debut married surf-rock textures with 50s girl-group sensibilities, and their palette had expanded exponentially by the time of seminal third album, Parallel Lines (1978). Eat to the Beat and Autoamerican followed, by which point they could boast flirtations with disco, rocksteady, funk, hip hop, and more within their enviable output.

When asked to pick one track that encapsulates the essence of Blondie, Harry opts for their 1981 US number one single “Rapture”. “What happens in ‘Rapture’ is very comprehensive,” she says. “It took a form of music that was, or still is, very modern and can be very political. Rap and hip-hop songs back then didn’t have their own songs. Rappers would just rap on somebody else’s music. (‘Rapture’) was crafted specifically for that rap. Until then that hadn’t been done. It was a breath of fresh air.” It stands as one of the things in her career that she feels “very good about”.

Blessed with the sort of features that could sell sand to the Saharans, Harry’s appearance caused a stir from the band’s earliest days. “That’s part of showbiz,” she says to me, trying to downplay it. “We always had an eye for that, the entire band. We always had an idea of making a look that represented our sensibilities and links to British pop and mod.” Maybe so, but it was Harry alone who was immortalised by Andy Warhol in one of his iconic silkscreen prints, and who posed for era-defining photographers including Robert Mapplethorpe and Anne Leibowitz.

Did the disproportionate attention she attracted ruffle feathers within the Blondie camp at the time? “Yes and no,” Harry remembers. “We were all happy that it was working. I suppose there was a certain amount of competition or jealousy but ultimately, no. I think that’s a better question for Clem or one of the other members in the band. Of course my relationship with Chris was so close that he was very happy about everything.”

The band’s wheels eventually came off after their muddy and unfocused sixth album, The Hunter, dashed against the commercial rocks in 1982. They had to abandon their subsequent tour after Stein became gravely ill with a rare autoimmune disorder, pemphigus vulgaris, that proved extremely difficult to diagnose. Blondie had no option but to bow out of the public eye, and they broke up quietly.

15 years later, with Stein fully recovered, the group reconvened and released a critically acclaimed and commercially successful comeback album, No Exit. They even topped the UK charts with lead single “Maria”, but faced tussles with erstwhile members at the time too. Former bassist and co-writer on “One Way or Another”, Nigel Harrison, and guitarist Frank Infante attempted to sue the rest of the band over their omission from the reformed lineup. And when Blondie were inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2006, Infante grabbed the microphone to express his ire publicly.

Fast-forward to 2020 and the settled iteration of the band are working on a new album with John Congleton, who produced 2017’s Pollinator. Does Harry have a formula when it comes to songwriting these days? No, as it happens. “When a phrase or a sentiment makes me respond emotionally or physically, I write it down and I save it,” she explains. “At a certain point, I’ll sort of review things. A lot of times I like to just work with a rhythm track. Just a drumbeat or some kind of drone-y rhythm, a groove. Other times people will give me a rough sketch of some chord changes – an idea that they’ve got. I seem to work in a lot of different ways.”

Thanks to her effortless chic and timeless looks, Harry’s relationship with the fashion industry has been a mutual love-in since forever, and she recently announced a revival of her partnership with ethical fashion designers Vin + Omi – the duo responsible for her profane ‘STOP FUCKING THE PLANET’ cape worn at the Q Awards in 2016 and throughout Blondie’s Pollinator tour. They have teamed up for a new sustainable clothing line entitled HOPE, and her enthusiasm for the project is palpable. “I love Vin + Omi,” she says. “They are so creative and adventurous. They have this desire to prevail and do things that are smart and modern in terms of recycling and making energy count. I think that is brilliant.”

As a fledgling bee-keeper, the plight of the bees is also something close to Harry’s heart. It was one of the reasons why 2017’s Pollinator was, well, named exactly that. “You’re either being stung by a bee or you’re going to eat its honey,” she chuckles softly, marvelling at the absurdity of the contrast. “But bees and water are two issues we cannot escape from. We should be concerned with finding better ways of living, using our resources in the best way possible.”

Help is coming, she hopes, through the election of Joe Biden, who is “firmly attached” to the idea of helping the environmental cause – and she believes his ideas can help the economy, too. “I’ve been saying for quite a long time that solar and wind power are renewable (energies) that can create jobs,” she says. It’s a far cry from her feelings towards outgoing President Trump and his “daily infusion of bullshit” and “thunderstorm of endless diatribes”.

“One of the most exciting things about rock’n’roll was that it was about breaking the rules, and (‘WAP”) is certainly a part of that. It’s titillating and aggressive and it is part of what is exciting about popular music. The nature of what we try to do is to shock and entertain at the same time” – Debbie Harry

What strikes you when you speak to Harry for an extended period is not only her warmth, but her unexpected humility for someone so staggeringly famous. I reference a Bob Dylan BBC interview from the 80s in which he observed with sadness how his fame had the ability to change a room’s energy and how he missed seeing people act naturally around him. She paws the comparison away, saying she’s nowhere near famous “to the degree of Bob Dylan”, whom she calls “such a megastar”. This could sound like false modesty coming second-hand, but in person it feels like a sincere statement, even if it is a little bewildering coming from an international icon. She will concede, however, that she has “definitely noticed and felt something like that” and has often wished she could simply be “a fly on the wall”.

There is also an inquisitiveness that makes the conversation a more two-way affair than your quote-unquote typical ‘interview’. She fires questions back at you, not as a deflection tactic, but to expand and explore a topic further. This happens when conversation turns to Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s ubiquitous “WAP”. A recent interview had her fangirling over the track, but Harry’s feelings no longer appear to be as clear-cut and she wishes to discuss the song further. “I love it and hate it at the same time,” she now shares. “One of the most exciting things about rock’n’roll was that it was about breaking the rules, and (‘WAP’) is certainly a part of that. It’s titillating and aggressive and it is part of what is exciting about popular music. The nature of what we try to do is to shock and entertain at the same time.” She pauses. “I don’t know. Everything is revealed and maybe sexual explicitness has come of age.”

Pushed about what she dislikes about “WAP”, she says she would “hate it” if any young girl or woman was hurt by the song’s message. “I think that, in a way, men have to know that women think like this, and that there is this component,” she says, “but I would hate it to mean that everyone should be treated like this. I don’t think anybody should be hurt by sex”.

Harry has long championed the LGBTQ+ communities. When she refers to her dearly departed friend and Hairspray co-star Divine as a ‘drag queen’ in Face It, she acknowledges the term in some instances is no longer accurate or politically correct. I suggest that it can often seem as though the evolution of our language is speeding up in the digital age – by necessity, of course – and ask her if online culture fills her with concern when it comes to using the right terms. “Yeah, (because) in many cases it can be a slip of the tongue, especially for an old dog like me! Things do move so very, very quickly. It is hard to keep up,” she observes. “Fortunately, I have a lot of godchildren!”

Speaking of younger generations, Harry likes to think she’d have coped with social media if she were coming up today, but is thankful that she had her “dark cocoon” in which to “bloom out of”, a place where she was able to “ripen”. “When you’re under the harsh glare of constantly being analysed, that shapes you whether you want it to or not,” she says. “It’s a germ or a seed that’s planted in your mind. It can take surprising turns and it can affect your growth. For good or for worse, who knows?”

“When you’re under the harsh glare of constantly being analysed, that shapes you whether you want it to or not. It’s a germ or a seed that’s planted in your mind. It can take surprising turns and it can affect your growth” – Debbie Harry

One thing that remains is her fierce level of self-criticism. “I always want to do better,” she declares matter-of-factly. “I’ve always been very critical of everything. I hear things or look at them and say, ‘Oh God, it should have been that (instead).” Maybe this hypercritical inclination is what still drives her forward. “I honestly don’t like resting on my laurels. I like working and I like creating. I always beat myself up about not being more creative or more prolific.”

When looking at the bounty of projects she has lined up, no one in their right mind could put Debbie Harry and laurel-resting in the same sentence. Aside from the new album, archival set and fashion project, the paperback edition of her autobiography will be released with a brand-new epilogue in April of next year. (Just don’t ask her what’s in it – “I don’t remember what I wrote. I’ll have to look it up!” she says with a laugh.)

The signs are that the musician is done looking into the rear-view mirror, though. Time may be passing, the tide may be higher, but Debbie Harry is doing more than merely holding on. Her eyes are locked to the future and she’s positively thriving.

Blondie: Against the Odds 1974-1982 will be released next year; Face It is out now via Harper Collins

[lazarustrashpit]

Hey if you want to be an artist, I want to be artist but on the side since I am worried about the financial situation and I have to get a career and stay in school that’s what my parents say do you think I can become an artist still or? Or how do you manage? I’m not sure o becoming an artist since I’m not that good at digital, colors but I would like to be but in a more financially stable future.

Hi anon,

They don’t call us starving artists for no reason.

I’m not sure I’m the best person suited to answer this, as this is something I personally struggle with in becoming a full-time illustrator. However, I’m going to give you as honest of an answer as I can based on my own experiences. Please note, that I do not speak on the behalf of other artists. 

I’ve been a graphic designer for over 10 years, and an art director for a production company for half of that. What you see me doing on social media is something out of pure hobby. Fan art doesn’t pay my bills.

Short answer: Yes, it’s possible to become a full time artist and be financially stable. Is it easy? DEFINITELY NOT. Like with literally anything, it takes a lot of work and dedication to be successful. I’ve had the pleasure of conversing and working with several different types of artists. We’ve all struggled and continue to struggle, but the pay off is incredibly rewarding, if you can get your foot in the right door... but you gotta find the right door to begin with. What kind of artist are you interested in becoming? 

Artist is a vary vague term. There’s so many different career paths for each specialty. Comics: Pencilers, inkers, colorists, letterers; Concept artists: props, vehicles, costumes, backgrounds, fauna, aliens, buildings; Animation: 3d modeling, flash animation, compositing, rigging, storyboards, 2d hand drawn animation, 3d computer animation, stop motion animation. There’s a lot of positions out there. Saying you want to be an artist is like saying I want to be a doctor. Okay, but what type? Podiatrist? Veterinarian? Neurologist? Pediatrician? Psychiatrist?

Long scary answer below the cut.

Disclaimer: I’m not speaking on behalf of other artists, just my own opinion from my own experiences. Also, I am in no way trying to discourage you because a lot of what is written below is negative. The last thing I’d want is to deprive the world of another artist, but I also don’t want to provide some sort of false hope.

Being a full time artist is not easy. It’s extremely competitive regardless of what industry you want to dive into. It’s a lot of work and sleepless nights overcoming deadlines, your own self-esteem, and the biggest hurdle of all, finances.

Choosing any career is a big deal. As stated above, you have to do your research to really understand what you’re going to get yourself into. What’s the job market like for where you currently live? If there are not enough opportunities, are you willing to move for work? Yes, a lot of jobs can be done remotely, but if we’re talking about being financially stable, your best bet is to get yourself in with a studio full-time or on a long contract project. Freelance artistry is difficult—you set and negotiate your own rates for projects, and you’re responsible for marketing yourself to keep getting jobs, not to mention you are more susceptible to getting scammed and taken advantage of. And with social media being a driving force for a lot of marketing, you’re constantly fighting with the algorithm to get your work seen. Not to mention, there’s a lot of pressure because you get paid per project and if you can’t land a project, then you’re not getting paid. Whereas if you can work for a studio, the work is brought to you on a consistent basis, provided you can keep up with the demands and perform to the task at hand. A lot of the work may be repetitive and time sensitive, but it will be steady. Working for a studio/business gets you benefits like retirement options, health benefits, vacation/sick pay, tuition reimbursement, etc. 

There’s also the other side of being a freelance artist that no one ever really talks about. Everyone thinks that we spend every day just pumping out art, which is somewhat true, but we don’t often talk about the missing the endless emails with clients, the constant marketing, searching on artstation, fiverr, etc for gigs, querying literary agents, changing your portfolio(this is another thing I can talk about for days so hit me up in DMS if you want to discuss) constantly to reflect your very best work, keeping up on all your social media platforms to engage your audience, honestly, finding an audience in general is another conversation, dealing with carpel tunnel and other muscle related injuries... it goes on and on.

I moved 3000 miles across the United States from my hometown to California for better work opportunities. Are you prepared to work another job(s) to make ends meet? I worked in retail and a handful of odd jobs for several years before I fell into an actual full-time art job. 

Ultimately, it really depends on how passionate you are about this, and how much you’re willing to struggle to get to do what you want. For me, I fall into a very depressive state if I can’t flex my creative muscles for even one day. I worked as an event coordinator for several years, and was never worried about money. However, despite being financially well-off, I was so incredibly miserable every single day because I just didn’t have the energy to draw when I got home. It was nearly impossible for me to get out of bed every morning. Then, I landed a job as a graphic designer, I made less, but I was so much happier, but it still wasn’t enough. I would work a full day and still come home and draw something after having dinner, even though I had already spent 8 hours being creative beforehand. It’s literally something I just need to do to be happy. It helps me relax and de-stress. So, what I’m saying is, if you’re not passionate about it, don’t make it your main focus. Why open a restaurant if you’re not ready to wake up at 3 am to bake bread or go to the fish market for fresh ingredients? 

In the end, I’d rather be dirt poor and drawing, than be wealthy and miserable. But that’s not for everyone. It really, really, really, just depends on who you are.

A lot of artists have day jobs and do art on the side for supplemental income. If you have the drive to keep that up, because it will be taxing on your physical and mental health (please take proper breaks), then please pursue it. I would NEVER want to discourage anyone from pursuing art as a career or hobby. I just want to be real about the struggle. The beautiful thing about art is that it’s never too late to fall into. It just takes time and dedication to the craft. I’ve spoken with dozens of animators that didn’t fall into it until they were in their 30s and now work full-time for Disney. Anything is possible if you have the talent and the drive for improvement. 

Again, I’m not speaking on any other artists’ behalf. I’m sure we all have differing opinions and experiences on the topic. Feel free to DM me if you want to talk about this further. As you can see, I can ramble about this for days, so I’m just gonna shut up now lol

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 5 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Since we’re on a roll and impatient as fuck, we decided to up our posting rate! Hope you enjoy! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Violet gave Trixie a heads-up about Fame’s dislike of the new collection, and moved into her new apartment--where she found some very welcoming neighbors.

This Chapter: All hands on deck as Fame demands a complete reconceptualization of their Spring collection.

***

Fame swept into the office on Monday, all business, barely looking Violet in the eye as she rattled off a waterfall of orders.

Fame pulled off her coat and dropped it, nearly letting it fall on the floor before Violet dove forward to catch it.

“Have you taken care of the messages I left you over the weekend?”

Fame seemed almost frantic, her energy all over the place.

“I’m almost done Miss,” Violet folded her coat over her arm, holding out her hand for Fame’s bag. “I just need to confirm wit-”

“Good.” Fame hung her bag on Violet’s wrist, the weight almost toppling Violet over if it hadn’t been for her hours at the gym. “Have you ordered the new fabrics I talked about?”

Violet nodded. “They are on their wa-”

“And what about my new assistant?”

“Yes-” Violet reached for her desk, a stack of resumes already printed out. “I’m starting the pre-interviews tomorrow-”

“Wonderful.” Fame completely ignored Violet and the papers she was holding out, instead walking towards her office. Violet quickly disposed of Fame’s coat and bag, putting both down on her desk so she could grab Fame’s coffee and the letters for the day before she followed her.

“Remember, only perfection is accepted,” Fame instructed, settling down at her desk.

“Yes, Miss.” Violet handed her the coffee, which Fame took a single sip of before she scrunched her nose and handed it back to Violet.

“I’d like a new latte and a medium fruit salad, no pineapple.”

“Yes Miss.”

“Is that the schedule for the day?”

Violet nodded and handed her the paper.

“Also, before you go. Get Raja up here. I need to discuss the collection. That’s all,” Fame said, turning to her computer.

It wasn’t for a few minutes that Violet realized how serious Fame was about the collection change. She was standing in line at the coffee shop, checking her email, when she saw that Fame had sent one to the entire senior management team.

Subject: URGENT

All hands on deck meeting at 3 pm today to discuss a complete re-conceptualization of our Spring collection. Bring your best ideas, ready to discuss, along with samples and visual aids. Be prepared to work late.  

Violet gulped, forwarding the email to all of the applicable assistants, when another one ticked in.

Subject: Violet - Get me Pearl

***

“This is interesting, try to get a sample of the skirt done ASAP and then spruce up the sketch,” Trixie said.

Trixie had been walking around the busy design floor, checking out what his team had come up with over the weekend. Ever since getting Violet’s text last Friday, he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that Fame was about to bring down a hammer, and so they needed to be prepared with new ideas.

Half of the team was working on changes and additions to their current collection. Half of them were working on entirely new concepts and ideas.

‘Remember guys,’ he’d said before they left on Friday. ‘This is a spaghetti against the wall situation. No bad ideas, time to explore everything. If it’s unique and innovative, that’s a plus. Pull out your passion projects.’

The truth was, Trixie had no idea what to expect. Fame had been silent all weekend, which made him even more nervous. Usually she’d send at least a few texts or emails. Ideas that popped into her head. A doodle on a notepad. Image references. But now, when she was allegedly questioning their whole collection? Nada.

Trixie walked over to where April was draping out an ornate sample dress in multiple shades of blue, telling her to carry on. Then he moved on to Alexis, scrutinizing the sketches on her desk with a critical eye.

“Some of these shapes are interesting, but I need you to redo them with different colors and fabrics,” he told her. “Remember, the color story is apparently the thing she’s most ambivalent about.”

“Got it,” Alexis said with a good-natured sigh, picking up a fresh pad.

“Um, Trixie?” Kandy looked up, a terrified look on her face as she hung up the phone.

“Yes?”

“Raja says to check your emails, don’t panic, and that she’s coming down to fill you in,” Kandy said.

Trixie pulled out his phone, stomach lurching as he read the email from Miss Fame, face going pale.

His worst fear had just come true: they were facing a complete reconceptualization. He looked up, forcing a smile in order to not terrify the design team even more.

“Okay,” he said, attempting to keep his voice light. “New plan...Blu, Jovan, Gia? Forget about the adjustments you were working on. We’re looking for fresh ideas, anything that you think could be a new signature piece. Everyone: the deadline is today at 3 pm.”

A small gasp rippled through the team as they realized how soon that was.

“Three pm?” Blu asked, the Irish designer looking like she might burst into tears.

“Yeah.” Trixie scanned the room again, hating the anxiety that he saw on everyone’s face, which he knew full well was not conducive to innovation. “And try to have fun. Remember, this is fashion, not heart surgery. No one’s gonna die.”  

“We might die,” Jovan muttered under his breath, ripping his current piece out of a sewing machine and tossing it onto the ground.

“It’ll be okay,” Trixie put a hand on Jovan’s shoulder. He was his oddest worker, the wrinkly brain he had coming up with the most beautiful, crazy, intricate ideas when he was left to his own devices. “I promise.” Trixie squeezed, trying to put as much conviction behind his words as he could. “Just do your best.”

***

Pearl had just settled into her chair, ready to see if anything exciting had happened on Twitter while she had been by the design department to give Trixie his lunch.

It wasn’t something she normally did, but Katya had been near heartbroken when she saw that Trixie had forgotten the lunchbox she had made him that morning, and since Pearl was a pretty damn good roommate in her own opinion, she had volunteered to deliver it.

Katya had given her a kiss and a hug as thanks before she hurried out the door, two tote bags and canvas under both arms. If Pearl didn’t love her so much, she’d be almost disgusted with how good of a human being Katya was, spending her summer as a volunteer art teacher at a community center in the Bronx.

Her beating heart was however also the reason that Pearl hadn’t been kicked out of the apartment she shared with her Trixie when he and Katya had started dating, so who was she to complain?

A polite cough came from the door just as Pearl was catching up on Olivier Rousteing’s Instagram. She turned around and came face to face with Violet.

Pearl smiled; it was always a joy to see Violet, the other always a sight for sore eyes with her almost impeccable beauty.

It was always fun to see what Violet would wear, the woman almost vintage in her style.

“Is that Gabbana?”

“Of course it’s Gabbana” Violet smoothed down her skirt, and Pearl smiled. She was the only person who Pearl knew that could wear a button up, and still look like someone begging to get fucked.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?” Pearl smirked. Violet was fun to rile up, but Fame was her favorite, one of her very best days at work happening because she had agitated her boss on purpose.

“Is this about the collection? Trixie told me Fame has officially freaked.”

Violet didn’t say anything, and Pearl almost wanted to roll her eyes.

“I’ll take that silence as a yes.”  

Violet was an annoyingly good assistant, never saying a word against Fame, always holding her tongue even when it would have been more than fair to complain.

“She wants you in her office in 10.”

“So I’m not actually late?” Pearl turned around to her iMac, seeing that the small email icon on her screen was blinking red. “Ah.”

Pearl realized that Violet had just saved her from Fame’s disappointment, but there was no way she was going to let the other know of her gratitude.

It was too early in the game for that.

“Sorry for helping you.” Violet huffed, rolling her eyes. “Here-” Violet put a folder down on Pearl’s desk. “In case you want to actually prepare-”

“Thanks Vivi.”

“Don’t call me that.”

***

“Shit.” Trixie exhaled a groan of frustration as he dumped down in his chair. He had known the email was coming, but it had still felt like a punch to the gut when he’d actually seen it.

Raja had come straight from a meeting with Fame, and Trixie had known it was bad, real bad, when he had seen how Raja’s normally ice cold exterior was chipped.

Trixie sighed, burrowing his head in his hands for a minute. He hated having to push his designers, hated forcing them to deliver in extreme conditions. A few of them thrived on it, Betty always delivering excellent work, while Aiden almost always buckled when he didn’t have time to pay attention to his details.

Trixie reached into his mini-fridge, taking the lunch Pearl had stopped by to drop off for him. It was only 10:30, but he unpacked it anyway. Katya had packed two pieces of carrot cake, a can of diet coke and as Trixie opened the metal container, the lovely smell of Katya’s best mushroom and cheese blinis greeted him.

He opened his drawer, pulling out a fork as he turned his computer on, the promise of carrot cake the only thing getting him through the avalanche of worried emails he knew was waiting for him.

***

Raja heaved a sigh as she stepped off the elevator. She’d been trying to give Trixie a warning about Fame’s current state of mind without causing the EVP of Design to freak out, but couldn’t shake the notion that she’d failed, seeing the crease in his forehead deepen the more she spoke, until she’d finally just left him with a firm pat on the back. She entered her own suite, the rich fabrics and warm colors immediately soothing her, although her relief was short-lived, since Jaida was perched on Ivy’s desk, a stern look on her face.

“I need to talk to you.”

Jaida was the most recent addition to their management team. The bright, resourceful CFO joined them almost two years ago, when Patrick stepped away from the day to day financial management to focus on his own firm. She’d truly been a godsend—immediately understanding the need for creative flexibility in their budgets, and helping to streamline the company’s organization in a way that was incredibly effective even as they grew by leaps and bounds.

But now, Jaida’s beautiful face was about the last one that Raja wanted to see. She was well-aware that Fame’s email had caused mass panic, and Jaida’s mind was probably already spinning in 100 different directions, thinking about how their timelines would now completely change the budget for Fashion Week beyond the normal contingency plan.

Raja gestured to her office, resigned to have this conversation now, and Jaida immediately sailed in, settling on the forest green velvet couch that Raven had picked out. Raja turned to Ivy, requesting some herbal tea, before joining her.

“So, Jaida, what are you brightening my day with?”

“An entire reconceptualization, Raja?”

“I’m aware that-”

“Has she completely lost it? Can’t you talk to her?” Jaida implored.

“Fame has made up her mind.”

“Ughhh!” Jaida’s hand fell into her hands.

“What a mature response-”

Raja was cut off when Shangela burst into the office. One of their longest and most loyal employees, the Director of Operations usually never panicked, taking on every challenge with an almost annoying amount of enthusiastic joy.

It was possible, Raja supposed, that she was extra annoyed by Shangela because of their failed relationship, but she liked to tell herself that that was besides the point.

“There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Shangela exclaimed, taking a seat across from Jaida.

“I was stalking Ms. Gemini here.” Jaida pointed with her thumb.

“Shangela, you’re in my office-” Raja began.

“Listen. I just want to make sure everyone understands the situation at hand. Bendela is already asking to double the staff in the tailoring department through September, and Alyssa says that this is going to potentially triple the budget for the media campaigns, and-”

“I know! It’s a shit show!” Jaida exclaimed.

Raja closed her eyes. Where the fuck was Ivy with her tea?

“I hear your concerns, however, we haven’t even had the creative meeting yet, so don’t you think we’re getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“But Bendela says-”

“Of course she does, Shangela.” Raja sighed. Shangela was always so dramatic, but she was irritatingly good at her job.

“Bendela’s been requesting to hire more tailors for months now. That doesn’t mean that her estimate is accurate and if she truly sticks to her guns, Trixie just interviewed potential interns. I’m sure some of them can be assigned to tailoring.”

Ivy pushed her way through the door, a tray with coffee and tea for everyone in her hands.

“Right, okay, but what about-”

“We’re going to get through today, listen to what Fame has to say, what ideas everyone comes up with, and then reconvene tomorrow morning,” Raja said, gratefully accepting the tea that Ivy handed over.

“Fine,” Jaida said. “But if I were you, I’d convince Miss Fame that the current collection is brilliant.”

“You don’t think I tried that?” Raja laughed.

“Fair enough,” Jaida replied, finally letting a small giggle escape.

“Another day in paradise,” Shangela added, rising up from the couch.  

[elizabethrobertajones]

14x07 watching notes

In Which It Is Now Completely Apparent Which Of Buck And Leming Are Writing A Scene At Any Given Time

or

A Tale Of Lizbob Being Tormented By Toddlers

Hello it is 3:32am and I am awake from a dream of what the episode might have been (plus side: overt Destiel motel room sharing, downside: Jack accidentally killed Dean) because my tantruming toddler neighbour who just moved into the haunted house next door was screaming, and threw something at our adjoining wall. At 3am. So I'm not exactly well-rested and I'm kinda pissed, which isn't the best combo for a Buckleming episode, but when you wake up with a scream and a thump, you aren't going back to sleep for a lil while :P

-

Kudos to the rest of the writing team, we're 7 episodes in and I've thoroughly forgotten Nick exists. I've just been assuming he was caught, featured on a true crime program, and is already gone and locked up for the new murder and likely solving of a cold case.

-

Ahahahaaaa the opening of the recap is "when it comes to killing you, I'll be the one to do it" so that's ominous. As you might tell, my psyche is utterly wrapped around this whole Shakespearean tragedy of Jack vs Dean, and perhaps they're not gonna murder each other today but the constant reminders they're living in a murder or get murdered delicate thematic plot balance is exactly the sort of thing that we need to have hanging over their dynamic, as well of course as being the start point of their relationship to show how far they've come and how much they've changed and now love each other and how just last episode Dean got in his "fine i have a son now" episode a season or two later than everyone else and just in time for it to be "so now you bonded with him of course he's caught Doom because you can't have nice things for literally a single episode and this is your fault for bonding with him, Dean"

-

This recap is designed to wound me, a Jack fan and lover of how TFW loves their son

-

Ew, it's Nick. The first time in my life I've been tempted to skip at least a lil of the recap.

-

Imagine how tight it would have been to just do a 10 second "here's Jack" recap and cut to the action

-

and the action includes an episode without Nick stealing time from the boy

-

You know i spend exactly 0 time speculating on how Eugenie might write her personal fave bits of the episodes but if you had to throw together "nick is now a serial killer ritually murdering priests on a satanic bender" then that would have been a pretty close thing to what I could have come up with as distilled Buckleming essence. (gross)

There's a vague continued overlap of the human!Cas arc with the parallel to the open of 9x03 and the general aesthetic of season 11's Lucifer's satanic rampage bender thrown together but you know what that's more meta than this arc deserves and my boy is sick

-

OH NO CAS IS THE ONE WATCHING OVER HIM ABORT ABORT

-

His grace looks pathetic. Maybe he's trying not to wake Jack up. Maybe he doesn't have a whole lot left.

-

That's not helping, Cas

-

ANXIOUS PARENTS OUTSIDE HIS ROOM

I bet Cas sent them away because they were hovering

-

Dean this is not what happens to kids, stop trying to kid yourself that this is like having a regular demonic toddler

-

Man am I glad I do not have kids right now both because I don't have to worry about them and also because they scream and throw stuff at the walls at 3am

-

Dean angry at Cas cuz he's worried about Jack oh no oh no oh no look at these stressed parents. Cas is forced into the doctor role because he magic but he is just as stressed as they are and tensions are high, and then the boy starts convulsing

-

Oh my god they snapped, they are actually bringing Jack to an emergency room. This is horrifying and kind of a trip to imagine what they're going to tell any authority figures about who this guy is and what their relationship is to him.

Do they remember that he has barcode fingerprints and probably is gonna be Medically Weird just as default?

(Alex is 29 like me and Misha is early 40s and Jimmy is canonically a year older than Misha for some reason, so at a push Cas could be his dad and have made some very early mistakes but the boy is biologically only like 10 years younger than them on average... JACK looks another half that at times but this is a hospital so idk if "smiles like a toddler" "early teenage adorableness" is a good measure of age)

-

(I'm stress-typing)

-

"His full name, please"

All 3 dads look at each other baffled.

Sam goes with Jack Kline, which, a season and a bit later, is the first canonical use of it as Jack's surname

They're cautious about using Winchester, understandably, but it's a nice reminder that Kelly is family too and as the dead parent, naming Jack in tribute to her should have been something they were doing all along (like, season 13 all along), especially as he even visited the Klines earlier this season. Sam being the one who thinks to do this is nice because he's the most dad-aligned to Jack in a traditional sense when it's come to raising him (Cas got the pre-birth role as the traditional father role) and Cas obviously had the strongest connection to Kelly before that but this isn't a moment about her so much as these 3 stressed dads.

-

LOL Date of birth. Sam wins another point for knowing it, while Dean makes back and forth guesses on '99/2000, making Jack 19 or 20, which would at least mean any one of them could have fathered him and chopping 10 years off Alex's age to compromise between look and feel.

-

Given Jack's symptoms the nurse should have been a lil more concerned asking about trips to West Africa or other likely Ebola places lately. (This may be poor timing on the show's part but isn't there a fresh outbreak right now?)

(Oof I googled it and there's "Congo Ebola outbreak 2nd worst in history" articles dated 6 hours ago... Maybe a bad year to write haemorraghic diseases for fun and also how comes no one is talking about this in the news and it's all blah blah brexit... Have we just stopped fearing it now a few outbreaks have shown it mostly stays contained in African countries so now they can just suffer it on their own? I'm making a 4am donation to relief efforts)

-

*returns from the doctors without borders website* anyway back to the fictional sick white boy

-

And his very stressed dads

-

I have no idea how much of this is medically accurate but I feel like this is particularly dramatised to match hospital visits people have experienced which did not involve bringing in a stumbling, feverish, person who is having seizures and coughing blood

it's still objectively sad to see TFW lined up all stressed out and Cas and Dean holding hands while they stare through the giant window

-

The doctors aren't wearing masks even though he has been COUGHING BLOOD

-

sheesh this entire hospital is in quarantine now

-

Nick saying he was "getting hammered" the night of the murder isn't super subtle

-

Cas aggressively still trying to watch over Jack even though they won't let him in the room. Dean paces and talks about ghouls in the middle of the hospital to let off stress.

-

Cas goes to watch over him in person while Sam and Dean have a personal chat. This is awful D:

-

I appreciate the sentiment of busting Jack out before they pay the hospital bills because they're running out of medical options and need to turn to magic ones, a la every dramatic event ever in their lives except that one time Dean broke his leg and Sam was too out of it with the Hallucifers to sell his soul to make it better, but if Jack's in system shutdown wouldn't at least keeping him with state of the art equipment mean things like transfusion and machines that keep him propped up?

Mind you his bloodtype is probably, like, X evil negative or something Bucklemingy

It's in his DNA... He might be cute but he's still  born of their episodes and wacky non con ideas... It was gonna catch up to him eventually D: You can't outrun it forever!!

-

I accidentally hit a button and 8x02 started playing on VLC

-

"DEEEAN" Cas shoves him through the portal out of purgatory, credits roll, this was officially the weirdest episode ever.

(No I didn't watch the whole thing, I was literally paused on the last shot from where I was about to gif it last night when I fell asleep)

-

Sam already called Rowena... Smart cookie

-

obligatory yell at Cas shedding the coat to put on Jack so they don't walk him out in a hospital gown

-

Oh my god Jack's so sick he's white as a sheet and being carried out by 2 of his dads and he still has a lil well of snark to be like "fine we're leaving" to the doctor.

"There's just no talking to him when he gets like this"

-

We're at the promo scene and I'm still not 100% sure after sleeping on it that Rowena definitely did not have the Book of the Damned, and that she hadn't been able to make off with it at the end of season 11, never for it to be seen again, because she was very much in the process of stealing the Black Grimoire in 13x22, but this does, I guess, make sense in regards to which book would serve Jack better, and Mittens tried her best to convince me that Rowena plausibly did not have it because the Winchesters did... I'm still suspicious because I really did just assume that she took it and the implication was we didn't see it because SHE had hidden it, and from a line in a Buckleming episode as well. And either way around her showing up with it makes sense that she had it but I'd have occam's razor'd it that she stole the obvious books at the obvious times and not that 13x22 became a BotD heist on top of everything else :P

-

Jack is up and about!!

He's using a more gravelly voice and it's actually a really hot voice and for literally the first time the Alex/Jack divide (gulf) in my head that one is my age and hot and the other is a 12 year old is a bit shaken. I mean Jack's canonically now supposed to be around 19-20? Which explains why he has a "wooo spring break" attitude when we see in the promo he snaps and wants to go to Vegas.

They grow up so fast.

Anyway considering he was in total organ shutdown a lil while ago it seems a night's rest has done him well if he's wandering around the bunker

Can't tell if we swapped writers or what... well, it seems like it's possible given Jack's fluctuating sickness, which of course could just be a plot thing but also a mark of the inconsistencies in Buckleming episodes. It's still odd to me that in the filming process it didn't occur to them that Jack might not at least sway on the spot at little, but he's really standing there like a little trooper, upright and talking confidently.

-

And betraying to Rowena that his dads like her and say nice things about her behind her back, which is catastrophic for them. How dare. You're damaging the foundations of their relationship.

-

*cough cough*

"Bollocks"

Yep, her heart has softened, Jack won her over in record time, and she's just thinking about that time she adopted a wee Polish lad and loved him as her own because Jack is genetically engineered to be a blank slate son version of a Mary Sue. You take one look at him and he is Your Son in whatever way will most harm you.

-

Good grief I wish Crowley was still around to see what HILARIOUS overlap with Gavin we'd have wrung out of Jack's main superpower.

-

Cas offering his grace to stabilise Jack on the spot. Halp. It's more important to him that his son lives by miles, that this isn't even an internal debate for him. In a way, obvious that Cas would be like this as a parent, in another, Cas just offered to give up his grace live on TV

-

Rowena shoots down the obvious solution (oh and thank god that for once the show actually even references obvious solutions) and starts talking about how we need archangel grace and as soon as she says that I think "oh, Michael" and Dean starts to come over weird with a wooziness that makes me wonder if that was timed for the audience "oh there's one out there right now" and why would DEAN be personally affected right thiiiiiis second..............................

-

When they go on spring break together we're getting right to the murderin

-

I mean SOMETHING is up and Dean's right now having his own weird moment as Rowena talks about how Jack will now have a fluctuating set of symptoms for the sake of the plot so

-

It's possible this is just his internal POV emotional reaction to bad news because this is what happens to me when I hear it but I suspect Dean is a lil more healthy than me in the first place so doesn't verge on passing out whenever a catastrophe happens regularly. And also Sam and Cas aren't similarly struck with physical symptoms at the news their son is dying.

-

Ya know, Buckleming, or probably Eugenie specifically which makes it all the worse, writing this woman taking a call in a dark alleyway, then not being terrified to be approached by a weird man and on top of that stopping and turning to invite him to join her in the club... this is the kind of thing where they're writing someone going against all natural instinct that it's bad characterisation for someone we've literally never met before just to put her in danger.

I mean at least they didn't make Nick stab a random woman (and a black woman at that to add to their overall awful stats)

-

I like how Jack's just decided Vegas or Tahiti are places you just kinda go to die... I mean I don't know what he's learned about them but it all has to be absorbed through the media in his most innocent way. I feel like there's something very sweet about whatever he thinks you do in these places of reputed sin and blaze of glory live fast die young lifestyles, but also utterly tragic. Consumptive tragic hero but with a twist of the reckless and dangerous later tropes of... It's 5am and I can't think but like. Vegas. Drugs and gambling high life style tropey films and books from the American tradition.

And of course it's Dean (who utterly fits into this trope and even has yearly Vegas trips with Sam since discovering his psychic powers back in season 1 and also lives a blaze of glory mindset) who brings him the deadly glass of milk (film trope about innocence but also like, people dying) and a sandwich loaded with salami. Dean went all out to make that for Jack - a couple of episodes after sending a woman off to "make him a sandwich" and regretting it as he spoke, we see the yank the cloth away reveal of Dean's nurturing side where he is the caregiver who shows affection through food and will go to the trouble of making his boy a delicious sandwich.

-

"Nice." See? He's Dean's son and Dean approves his choice of places to die. "You sure this is the best time?"

"Pretty sure it is," Jack says, backpack on, already almost out the door. He's found a brown corduroy jacket which is both unlike his beige jackets and suits from the rest of his life aside from the blue apocalypse world one, and also very very much like Sam's iconic season 1-2 brown corduroy jacket that he mostly stopped wearing although I think was the one Dean wore in 4x01 as one of its sporadic dwindling appearances, if I'm not wrong.

-

I probably am but either way, it's a change to darker colours, something Sam-associated to fit the gap of this smol dangerous dying kid Dean has to deal with, and puts Jack in thick earthier tones, thicker clothes to ward against the cold of death, and dressed more like TFW than normal as he usually has quite a distinct child-like version of their clothes.

-

Jack's concept of life and mortality is fucked, possibly because he was a functioning being after a day or two of gathering his thoughts and starting to come to terms with asking deep philosophical questions about himself, so in a way discovering he only has a couple more weeks to live is hardly anything. He's a fucking mayfly.

-

Ugh it's now solidly 5am and I am clearly not going back to sleep so I give up, I'm finally getting coffee. The rest of the notes will be maybe a wee bit more coherent :P

-

Anyway kettle thought: due to Jack and Dean's murder or be murdered relationship (lordy how is this the only way you relate to fatherhood, my guy?) I kinda suspect that Dean's about to abscond with Jack without even telling dad 1 or dad 2, because he is dad 3 and that's totally cool and he's a responsible adult, but,  you know, woozy and doomed while Jack is also consumptive and doomed. BAD COMBO.

-

I charge you with grounds of diminished responsibility due to mutual murder narrative doom

-

"I'm done being special. Before my life is over, I want to live it"

Okay remember in season 1 episode 14 where Dean was like "LOL WE SHOULD GO TO VEGAS BECAUSE YOU ARE PSYCHIC"? and I referenced that like 5 minutes ago so you should, obviously I've only ever been able to headcanon the reveal of Vegas Week in season 7 (Dabb episode, take a shot) dates back to that and is one of their between episode activities which makes sense that since they only started travelling as adults together in the canon of the show (and Sam 1 year older than drinking age) that it might as well have been when they started the tradition?

Well Jack here is reacting like Dean would have if HE were the one in Sam's shoes in 1x14, and being the fun lil brother who actually would be like fuck it let's go to Vegas and see how psychic I am in the casinos! In the context of season 1 Sam is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay too angsty and tragic to do anything other than come across as a stick in the mud who thinks Dean is joking and they're gonna carry on being tragic and hunting monsters instead. Dean in season 2, episode 9, also wanted to fuck off and go have fun when Sam's scary destiny got too much for him to carry, and that was when he was locked in the murder or save him vow from John's last words, which is a similar burden to the narrative bind he's in with Jack.

Jack, all of his fathers' son, finally shows up as the god damn first person to take his doom sensibly and actually want to fuck off to Vegas, and that's demon!Dean levels of fuck it.

Incidentally I half-suspect that Crowley, who has billions of dollars and once bid the moon in an auction (hi I watched 99% of 8x02 yesterday and 1% of it just now) probably was steering demon!Dean waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay carefully around the thought of wait a minute I have an extremely rich and powerful sugar daddy and no responsibilities... VEGAAAAAAAS.

Like, any time Dean started to form the thought, bam, naked triplets show up in their room.

-

Anyway Jack's busy being tragic, talking about wanting to get a tan (Beach now linked to something to do before death) or see a hockey game (oh shit we forgot Adam) or get a parking ticket (oh so that's why Dean  murders him)

-

"And when it's all over... die."

Dean looks over his shoulder, mind made up to abduct the boy and take him joyriding

-

"So that's your plan, huh?"

"I don't want to waste time arguing"

"Did I say I disagree"

jack, this is Fun Dad

-

I know, the concept is completely radical and you've never seen Dean be fun but trust me.

Even with your very, very limited options, Sam has literally had 3 episodes about how he's Scrooge, and Cas is... Cas. But Dean is legitimately fun dad when you get him on a good day. Trust me.

-

No one's speaking to Rowena??? How wild.

Poor thing is never going to get her mega coven

-

Dean (who has rocked up already wearing his jacket) spaces out as Sam starts blahing on about the culturally appropriative shaman Ketch has located.

Same, buddy

-

At least Dean isn't lying to them about stealing Jack. Somewhat. Not the whole Vegas plan.

-

Jack smiles at Sam and Cas in a kind of way that somehow conveys in its entirety "this may be the last time you see me but I'm cool with you NOT seeing me die of coughing my lungs up and fun dad has this covered and we've always had a weird death cult about our relationship anyway so I'm okay with it and you guys were the best dads but now fun dad is going to take me out back and shoot me where you can't see and I love you bye"

-

"Why don't you drive?"

Jack is like ?!?!?!?!? D:

EVEN ON HIS DEATHBED he hadn't figured this would ever happen

It's the make a wish foundation :')

This is, of course, the ultimate sign of Dean loving you and caring for you in Dean's own special way of not telling you he does but showing it with a gesture of absolute confidence and letting you in, and in the vast annuls of the show dates back to the second ever episode where Dean let Sam drive at the end for all of 1 shot (seriously, they've swapped back by the long shot at the end of 1x02 where you can't see them in the car but the prop drivers are definitely doing a generic Sam in the passenger seat Dean driving routine for stock footage :P)

-

Anyway Dean loves Jack enough that he's letting a kid who does not know how to drive learn to drive in the Impala, like he and Sam did.

-

I can see Alex sweating bullets about being seated next to Jensen in the beloved Impala and having to mess up turning it on... never mind the fact that both Jensen AND Dean will murder him if he harms the car, and being murdered on both levels at once is spiritually unsettling and he will probably end up an unquiet ghost.

And yet, the glee at being behind the wheel of this legendary gal

-

TRAGIC NYOOOOOM

-

"It's like I'm you! :D"

"No, it's not! :D (but with implied murder)"

-

"THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER"

Look if he survives this, you're creating a speed demon who will want his own classic car

-

And then you'll have to teach him how to maintain it

oh god

-

But yeah, non-toxic parenting in the John Winchester As He Could Have Been style.

-

At least as long as Dean is in the Make A Wish mode and not back to tragic murder mode

And that wooziness that he may or may not be associating with no sleep and too much stress suggests this isn't going to last as a Fun Day Trip For The Boy

-

"Cas are you sure you want to handle this alone?"

NO HE NEEDS A HUG HIS SON IS DYING

-

Sam, go hug him, you need a hug and your son is dying.

Also, of course, you mutually need each other in this instance and Sam is reaching out to Cas with presumably the intent that he wants to be in on it but is asking as if just concerned about Cas

-

Cas, being Cas, has somehow deduced that Dean is "taking this particularly hard" despite the fact all three of them are Concerned Dads and CAS WHAT THE FUCK are you doing being selflessly concerned about DEAN and sizing up his emotional state when all three of you are wrecked and your son is dying?

You literally have 3x the sitting at his bedside holding his hand moments of any of them and montaged the heck out of the concern at the start of the episode

-

I remember way back someone wankily made a chart of how often people talked to Dean about stuff and other people talked to each other about Dean, and Sam is now crying about Dean beating himself up over being mean to Jack at the start of season 13 and regretting it, so this entire conversation is Sam and Cas man paining at each other about how much man pain Dean is in.

I say with no wank in my heart, just sheer horrified amusement at this data point if they still are hate-watching the show and being horrified about how Sam never gets stuff for himself etc (I mean. He and Cas both have had extended chunks of seasons about them parenting Jack and this is Dean's time to come belatedly to what the two of them already had)

-

Cas finally says "son" a season and change after Jack was wandering around calling him "father" and Sam doesn't seem inclined to disagree that this is how it feels for all 3 of them.

-

Obviously he's crying about Jack and it was just the context above that made it look like he was crying about Dean and I always knew that, I'm not a monster, I'm just deflecting because owwwwwwwww this hurts

-

HUG EACH OTHER YOU DUMB FUCKS SO I FEEL BETTER

-

Cas walks off instead and Sam finally after 1000 years discovers how Dean feels when Cas does that when he was angling to come along and they miscommunicated and didn't say what they meant. Except Sam wanted to come out of mutual Dad Angst comfort while Dean normally wants to go with Cas places so he can hold his hand.

-

Jack's so proud of himself for being able to drive.

"Born with a wheel in your hand"

He literally stole the Impala from you when he was 7 months in the womb

-

Dean is like, we could get you laid? And Jack is like. Nah. I have a better idea.

No idea what right now but he still doesn't wanna bang anyone

-

Ugh a Nick scene. Tag yourself I'm the old tyre in the foreground

-

Is this the house from Family Remains aka the self-admitted worst episode of the show by Kripke and Carver's explicit design

-

I am going to puke Jack wanted to go on a fishing trip with his dad

-

There were spoilers about them doing this but I repressed it the fuck down and lied to myself that Jensen was randomly teaching Alex to fish on set because I didn't want to think about Dean doing this with Jack because oh my god someone has taken my heart and gouged it out with a rusty spoon.

-

Also: someone design Jack a t-shirt with a witty slogan about fishing rather than hook ups. Like, dude bro fishing culture but in a world where you're as likely to get dumb slogans about not wanting sex as you are for it making you a babe magnet

"I'd rather be fishin" is a thing people get on mugs for the workplace but we could start with this sentiment and play

-

ALSO AS I MENTIONED I WATCHED 8x02 IN THE LAST 24 HOURS AND DEAN NEAR RIVERS SUCKS. We also have 10x01 and Daniel the fishing angel (who was the pizza man from Monster Movie, see above: slogans about fishing, pizza man innuendo, we got a thing going here) who was happy on Earth just fishing and enjoying the planet and not wanting to go back to Heaven, in a very heavy metaphor for Cas to deal with, as the angel who once compared free will to teaching poetry to fish. Lots and lots to unpack here, when we turn this into a Dean and Jack father son bonding moment and throw in Dean's peaceful dream of fishing in 4x20 that Cas interrupted. Fishing is about peace and idyll and comes as a temporary respite in this show. Traditionally, also, of course it's a sport of patience, and a classic father son bonding activity as the long stillness allows for both manly silence and sharing beers in peace, but also talk if they want to open up a conversation.

For Jack, it's an overlap of both Cas and Dean parental stuff, Cas's issues with angelic nature, where he wants to be, WHO he wants to be (just OFFERING to give up his grace to save Jack) and then with Dean we have more classic human cultural tropes but none less painful for Jack's nature and relationships. Especially throwing in that this was his choice and Dean is indulging him completely here.

-

John may or may not have taught them to fish but I feel like it may have had a "so you are dying in the woods" aspect to it rather than for peace and bonding. BOBBY taught Sam and Dean some basic woodsmanship so he was more likely to be the father figure teaching them to fish if anyone did.

-

Okay so obviously I typed that just after clutching my heart at the reveal and hitting pause, as Jack immediately goes on to say that John DID teach Dean how to fish and that it was his happiest memory of him - and it comes as a surprise for the expectations (like, that the above paragraph now stands as what I would expect of canon if I was only taking from it and not as an actual writer of the show being allowed to insert new details in which challenge us about the characters, which is where I find the line between fan fic and original fiction really is when it comes to characterisation... Anything out of left-field and you have to tag it as an AU version or explain why instead of just writing it as taken for granted).

And it's unexpected in the sense that it is such a peaceful thing and above all I think the message is that Jack intuited from whatever Dean said about it that it WAS a happy peaceful memory of John which stood so much at odds with the rest of his life. Filed under as well the thing where Mary started talking about how nice John was to Sam and Sam recoiled in confusion until Mary clarfied it was her John, not theirs. Good memories of a gentle soft John are alarming, and yet perhaps this is a way to really confront and exorcise his ghost more than anything - the sort of funeral servive memorialising of the good with the bad and working through it to come to peace in a different sort of way that lets the wounds heal and the anger leave those scars.

"It was how you said it. I could tell." He's such a smart cookie and I think that often takes Dean by surprise in the sense that Jack has been very shrewdly watching him and learning from him and absorbing anything and everything he does, which unfortunately gives him the ability to cold read Dean like very few people do, seeing past the layers and bluffs and into Dean's core.

-

Jack just murdered Dean by saying if he doesn't make it he wouldn't miss Tahiti or the Taj Mahal or implied going to seedy bars and hooking up, he'd miss more time with Dean.

I mean that's not a literal way to kill someone but you should see Dean's face. He's been shot.

And again, it's a metaphor for what you want from life for DEAN to absorb, the prompt that his family is right here and he doesn't need to chase pleasure outside of them, that hook up bar nearby their home base where he never strikes out, that's irrelevant to the family he has built and it's been put in the subtext of what Dean goes after that's empty pleasure when he has this core family unit around him, by the way Jack has also rejected it and is explaining to Dean the real meaning of Christmas.

Of course, this all gets a bit weird unless you account for the fact he has an angel wearing a trenchcoat made of husband material waiting back at the Bunker because the chronic singleton life otherwise probably ought to account for an outlet for Dean like a hook up bar if his happy ending is a platonic family bond so, you know, end the show 10 minutes from now with everyone happy and alive and not dying, and all Dean's learned is they're 3 dads, one son, a mom and her AUBobby, but he still has unused romantic potential and for seasons and seasons they've been trying to close the door on him seeking out random hook ups in the subtext of what Dean WANTS vs what he thinks he can have. This frank conversation about what Jack wants from life before it's all over is once again ignoring fleeting human connection for the family bonds he values above everything.

-

"I've had a good life, Dean" the other reason they're having this sentimental conversation by a river is because Jack is a fucking mayfly and I hate this

-

@ Dabb please never make me see Cas driving this car ever again

-

Why are you irritating Cas like this. First boring holy fire oh it must be thursday followed by the indignity of making him sit on a pouffe? Listen, when Cas gets irritated he gets snarky and then people die because he snarked them to death. I saw it he did it to the Empty. And Lucifer in 13x12. And Kip.

I just feel sorry for Cas. Why can't he go on fishing trips with the boy. Oh no he has to sit on a squishy pouffe that won't let him be intimidating so that he can cure the boy even though Jack's already decided he's gonna die and will probably Ophelia himself into the river at the end of the fishing trip.

-

Sergei is basically like "Have you tried turning it off and on again"

Nephilim have a reboot button on the back of their neck, if you get a paperclip and poke it in there.

-

At least Sergei is so... whatever he is... I can't even tell who he is supposed to be offensive towards :P I guess with the name, I lean Russian, and then he has world esoterica and occult nonsense in his caravan...

-

The real question is how does he know anything about Nephilim and why hasn't Cas asked that already.

-

LOL he has a vial of Gabriel grace just lying around. Of course, because Gabriel was just offering it up to everyone.

Considering how he was exploited for it by Asmodeus there's a weird tinge of retconning his own abuse by saying he was going around giving it to everyone before Asmodeus ever bought him and started stealing it on the regular.

Still, it IS awfully tempting a fix to have Uncle Gabriel help Jack out from beyond.

-

/distantly: "I'm not dead!"

sometimes I can still hear his voice.

-

It's way more likely Shit Goes Down and this is lost but then Cas has learned what to do with archangel grace to fix Jack just so long as they can pin down Michael and grab his instead.

-

But I guess in that circumstance at least once again Gabriel gave them part of the answer from beyond the grave as he did in season 5.

("Still not dead!!")

shush Gabriel. The show wants us to think you're dead and my complete disbelief in that doesn't change anything for now.

-

Except that maybe Gabriel came back, is fine, but has been removing his grace and selling it in the here and now while claiming not to be Gabriel and that he just haaaappens to have it and because he has no grace he could just be any old guy who happens to have an endless renewable resource of archangel grace secretly on tap to sell to fund his life of laying low. Sergei even says HE got it as part of keeping Gabriel hidden.

-

I'm kind of assuming Sergei isn't Gabriel unless he offers Cas kielbasa

-

I mean unless later I get a bonus cookie for immediately assuming Sergei is Gabriel based on the holy fire he just happened to have prepared and how similar it looked to Gabriel being trapped in 5x08.

-

On the other hand this may be the first time this season but pointing at literally everyone and going, that's probably Gabriel, will get old and also dock me cookie points the more wrong guesses I throw out there. Still, this one has pretty strong evidence, from messing with Cas to making him say "Porn stars"

-

To, um, having Gabriel's grace

-

Okay so Sergei gives Cas all of this out of the goodness of his heart and a "you owe me" and I AM wondering if that's a Buckleming special because remember in 8x19 where they were like hi we need to go to Hell immediately, and Ajay was like sure, I will take you to Hell and this episode is even titled after me so clearly I am an important character who *stab stab reaper dying noises* wow look I guess we don't have a bargain after all despite me saying you owe me but then Crowley just maaaaagically made it so you never had to find out what a reaper would want in exchange for taking you to Hell off the books.

-

Also fuck you I never got to finish my pizza

-

While I've been typing some random ass justice for Ajay screed, Nick has revealed a flashback to 14x02 where it turns out his neighbour said it was a cop who he saw coming out of the house. I literally went back and checked the episode and that wasn't in it, so perhaps it's a new flashback for here, fleshing out that conversation and revealing more for us, and changing the narrative of what Nick's up to, but honestly who cares enough about all this... I was double zoned out for flashbacks I'd already seen for a side story i don't care about

-

Wow, Nick, demons killed ya family. Could have told you that.

-

Aw, Dean brought Jack home. No dying out in the wilderness for you, clearly Cas phoned up before Jack could work out his plan to fling himself into the river.

Also Nick has taken up too much of this episode so there's no room for complicated twists and turns, if Buckleming are banned from introducing too many of them.

It's incredible how subdividing them so Eugenie writes all the Nick stuff and Brad writes the rest has elevated the parts of the story we care about to pretty much passable, give or take whatever Sergei was and who he was offensive to aside from the whole concept of calling yourself a shaman because you travelled the world collecting occult stuff in a sort of Aleister Crowley way.

-

'cept you can't namedrop Aleister on this show because both Alastair and Crowley have stolen too much from him.

-

So you get a knock off Sergei instead.

-

Jack hasn't been having as many of the supposed fainting fits that had everyone dogpiling him as I thought - maybe that's next episode too. Could have had one at the start but that doesn't seem enough to be a repeated annoyance of Alex's life :P

Anyway I was just going to comment on his sweater but that thought hopped in there first wondering if the spell was about to knock him flat, as he's sitting on a chair instead of safely in bed.

All the more dramatic for flinging yourself around if the spell messes you up

(honestly if the spells don't work, and they took him out of the hospital, how much of a bizarre commentary is this on trusting modern medicine and vaccinating your nephilims?)

-

It's 7:20 and my neighbours are yelling again

At least being awake since 3 meant I got a bit more peace and quiet than normal. I feel gross but I may go to yoga just to not be stuck in this room with such awful screeching on both sides of me >.>

-

Oh I can tell Sergei is Gabriel, he put the grace in a gold container instead of the silver ones

-

I'm sorry for the expenses, Zerbe

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I wonder if they use her products on the show and I'm gonna go on my dash and find her beaming about a specially commissioned shiny gold grace that she made for them :P

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"Here, hold this bottle of your uncle's essence"

".... okay I understand how weird that sounded on hindsight"

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I love the idea of Jack's grace now being fuelled by Nice Uncle Gabriel who felt kindly towards him, even if this can't be a permanent fix, it changes his internal make up just a bit so that he symbolically has his grace stolen by his shitty bio father but the power only came from him in the first place and there was all the hoo ha about if Lucifer as his father made him inherently evil. Now whatever happens to Jack, he's had a grace transplant from a suitable donor, very much like a parallel of say he needed a kidney transplant and his 2 viable donors were his shitty deadbeat dad who gave him the kidney condition in the first place and his nice dead uncle who happened to have been an organ donor and was the only other one with the same type (if Lucifer's was X evil negative, then I guess Gabriel's is like X tricksy negative which has enough receptors to be a compatible transfusion, while Cas has like, Z dumbass positive grace and no compatibility)

And Gabriel is a beloved character who proved his kind feeling towards Jack even if they had very little bonding overall, he clearly cared and there was an immediate sort of uncle-y kindness about him in relation to Jack (just the comment alone about identifying that Jack liked shiny things and magic tricks is very much how uncles view small children who they may watch and entertain but not in the end have parental responsibility for), which is hilarious to me because Gabriel deeply reminds me of all 3 of my uncles on my mum's side, who are all 3 different shades of trickster god in their own right, and he always has reminded me of them, and now the show has sort of made Uncle Gabriel his new legacy.

I mean. I love it to bits.

It's not a sacrifice FOR Jack like Cas would have given up his grace, but it's still a part of him passed on to Jack.

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I am very very aware that like me running my mouth about John (ironically the name of one of my uncles) while hitting pause, I've stopped while Jack is looking up with glowing eyes and he's almost certainly about to spew a fountain of blood across the room and fall on the floor. But I like that the grace even interacted with him and lit up his eyes and unless he physically barfs out the grace to I'm sticking by that ramble.

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Cas smiled!! That's the once per season and we already hit it at episode 7, woe betide us

This does look, however, like the scene where they were all looking on from the door so... blood spew in 5 4 3 2 1...

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DOGPILE THE BOY

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Er, I mean, help him

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God I would not want Jared to dogpile me, the man weighs literally as much as an actual moose

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Uhoh Sergei made Cas mad

I mean

he made him sit on a pouffe, this was always coming

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What do you mean Eugenie can't let Lucifer go wow what a shock

-

*kicks a pebble*

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Ah, here's the concerned dads scene. I'm just going to let that be a balm to my soul while Dean laments ever taking Jack out to have fun.

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"You made him happy. You did more for him than any of us"

1 dude you tried, 2 you took him on hunting trips and had fun already this season so he got his Cas Time before he died like he wanted 3 just fucking abduct him wrapped in a duvet and go fishing in the dead of night if you have to, trust me, he'd love it and your family is such a mess he wouldn't even think it's weird.

I mean you've literally absconded illegally with him before, what's a trip up to that beach where he was born and some fishing gear really going to cost you with annoyance from Dean

-

"What can we do?" "Watch over him," Rowena says with Cas in the background, and continues to carve me out with a rusty spoon

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"As he dies"

Nah he'll be fine shut up Rowena D:

-

*whimper*

-

Well that was a very good episode if you act like me and pretend that none of the Nick stuff happened at all.

[applegelstore]

My sis and I are through with the actual main plot of KH3, so I can officially go back to scheduled ToZ fangirling now. …Well, I promised Cray a bit of fix-it-fanart, so after that, I guess.

Hit the cut for a resume. It got super long and has endgame story spoilers, so you might not want to stumble upon it by accident.

Another extra big shoutout (again!) to @crazayrock for bearing my liveblogging on Discord, screaming without context and occasional spoilers. And linking me fluffy Soriku doujinshi. Here, have my favourite, spoiler-heavy excerpt of our conversation:

Okay anyway, let’s get started: GAMEPLAY

Kingdom Hearts 3 is BEAUTIFUL. The gameplay is so smooth and intuitive that you can immediately get to playing like you’d never done anything else; in fact so smooth that I doubt I will ever be able to pick up the first game ever again. It’s always been fun, but the looooooong years’ gap actually did wonders to the gameplay.

The keyblade form changes are fun and keep things fresh, you can do flashy triangle button shit every other minute, and shotlock is still insanely useful without being a game-breaker.

It seems easier than the first two main games, though?

The gummi ship is still a pain in the ass to steer, but I do enjoy the open world-like travel options (even if there’s not… much to discover except heartless lasering the shit out of you). I’m also eternally grateful that they kept the gummi ship thing from KH2 where you can just use a new gummi ship once you got the blueprint and don’t buy actual fucking legos as in the first game.

Thank you, Square. Not thanking you for the dumb cherry flan game, though.

The Caribbean being basically an open world stage was delightful! Apparently what our resident island kid needs is a big ship and tropical islands to plunder.

VISUALS AND STUFF

PRETTY LIGHTS EVERYWHERE

The long gap between the games also did wonders to the visuals.

There’s finally, FINALLY a few towns with actual NPCs you can talk to. Why it took the team so many years and the Gods know how many games is beyond me. The magic effects are beautiful, the animations smooth (honestly you can hardly tell apart cutscenes and fully rendered CGI scenes in this day and age of the PS4. I’m probably the only person still amazed by this because the only games I played on PS4 before were a few hours of Child of Light and of course Tales of Zestiria and Berseria. No, I still haven’t played FFXV but that’s a topic for another day). How far videogames have come.Even space finally looks like space, lol. Not really high-end what the PS4 can do I assume but god, it’s such an amazing and much needed upgrade from the terrible textureless colourful tubes you flew through before.

No excuse for the terrible battleship thingy before the Keyblade Graveyard, though. I got lost and beaten up so many times and crashed against more walls than I can count.

Nothing beats the World that Never Was, but the Keyblade Graveyard also has creepy cool potential, as does the beautiful but ghosted City in the Sky.

Still not getting what’s with JRPGs and very Definitely Final Dungeons (TM) that are basically space. …………or heaven. Or nothing. I’m getting the bad kind of original NGE TV series ending vibes. But. Okay.

The soundtrack is splendid

.……I miss Traverse Town and Radiant Garden, however.

Which brings us to:

THE WORLDS

I guess I can live with no more Final Fantasy characters being there (although I always loved that), and the meta jokes in Toy Story world really got me. Seeing Disney characters calling the KH villains call out on their shit was delightful. …the KH characters lampshading their own games’ sloppy dialogue writing was delightful.Still, those Disney worlds are always so much more in my head than what I actually get to play. This has been bugging me ever since the first game and it still does. I do not expect or want to replay the entire movies, but would it hurt to give the cutscenes some goddamn background music? Whenever there’s cutscenes, either the world’s usual BGM keeps playing or the music stops altogether. Together with the shortened dialogues and generally drastically shortened plots with odd cuts, that leads to scenes that are awkward at best. They never even remotely have the impact the movies had. You just sit there and think “oh wow that is so silly and awkward”.

Dancing scene in Corona? My favorite scene in Tangled. Zero impact on me without the lovely BGM (at least they made it a minigame so the moment isn’t over after 3 secs). Just for example. You can ask me like, world by world, but I can think of only exception off the top of my head and it’s not helping:

Let it Go of course. Listen guys, I actually love the song. But it’s so overused (and Frozen is an overrated movie at best that doesn’t deserve its hype in the slightest) that I can’t even really enjoy it being there. Like.


IF THAT’S OKAY WITH YOU,WHY DIDN’T YOU INCLUDE LITERALLY ANY OTHER ORIGINAL SONG FROM THE ORIGINAL MOVIES. Instead of BGM just not being there entirely, or in odd, cringey re-renderings that nobody wants to listen to (*cough* Atlantica *cough*).

Why torture me and not give me the one good scene from At World’s End (the up is down scene) when you had the chance?Kingdom Hearts is also prone to super lazy level design and wasting chances at wonderful scenery for no apparent reason other than I suppose empty cliffsides are quick to render. All games before did that, and KH3 is, sadly, no exception. We get to see a bit of Corona and Athens and they finally have NPCs, too, but you cannot even get near Arendelle. You cannot enter Elsa’s palace. You spend the entire time there climbing around in the snowy mountains of Norway, and unfortunately it looks less interesting than one would expect from the lovely concept art that the film unfortunately never used.You cannot enter Rapunzel’s tower although Sora can apparently parkour his way up even without her help.

………In short, the places you can go are, again, very limited, and a lot of interesting places and scenes you never get to see.

And to follow the plot you still only need the stuff that does NOT happen in those Disney worlds because they’re all beach filler episodes. It’s always been like that, but I keep wondering whether I’m the only one bothered by that. I’m also still salty they didn’t introduce a single new world from a 2D animated movie.

Also, as I said, I miss Traverse Town, it felt so warm and welcoming and beautiful.

And I get behind The World that Never Was missing although I loved it there, but why not give us back Radiant Garden? Destiny Islands since they’ve been restored? Disney Castle?

As much as I love the series, it never fucking lives up to its own potential. Idk whether it’s made more difficult by copyright issues or whatever, I just know that it bugs me.The first two games also had like twice as many worlds.

PLOT

I mean it’s never been deep; however, it’s complicated. No analysis or whatever from me because plot analysis and meta writing bore me like seven hells, just my emotional reaction: AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 
Okay, bad news. I got into it expecting nothing, and still got disappointed. I don’t actually enjoy the prospect of writing essays about it, but here’s my tea with it; in not particular order:

1) the pacing is terrible. Nothing happens for like 30 hours and then suddenly like 20 characters’ arcs are (naturally poorly) resolved within the last few hours of cutscenes. Build up anyone? At least they actually did pick up Maleficent and the box thing again. …In the epilogue.

2) Speaking of build ups, Sora’s breakdown could have been developed nicely and steadily over the game to feel natural, and instead it’s hinted at in the beginning by everyone picking on him, but then it’s never further developed and comes out of fucking nowhere. Like. For real? It felt terribly OOC.

3) Why on earth have they shown 90% of the plot in the trailers already, and why are those scenes so massively disappointing in context

4) Kairi. Oh god, Kairi. What are we gonna do with you. I want to love her, I really do, but she’s a prime example of shittily written female leads. Mostly because she’s not leading. It’s not her fault. She’s just a fictional character. But honest to God, Nomura, why. Her screen time is almost nonexistent, and she’s entirely use- and helpless whenever she’s on screen (which isn’t often). Her ONLY point in the plot is being rescued because she is fucking useless. Why. Just why. Why waste her character like that. All we know is that she’s shoehorned into being the token love interest, but she has zero plot relevance and there is even less build up of her relationship with Sora. It’s all tell and NEVER show; and not even much telling, either. She has literally zero direct interaction with in the entire game before they share their paopu. The question remains: why are straights like this

5) On a related note: look, I don’t even ask for (or expect, or even hope) my ship to be canon. Squeenix doesn’t exactly have a rich history in queer representation. I’m totally fine with Sora and Riku being best friends. BUT. Building up Sora as the most important person in Riku’s life (and arguably, vice versa) over the course of several games, just to then hardly have them interact in the finale and then SUDDENLY bring back Kairi into the equation, who hasn’t interacted with him since the ending of KH2 (except for one unsent(?) letter) is just piss poor writing, period.I actually love Cray’s suggestion she gave me over Discord: let Sora, Kairi and Riku all share a paopu together (and let them group hug, too, you cowards). It would have been the perfect message to send (Sora as truly all-loving hero, and loving all your friends equally; romantic love isn’t more important than platonic love and doesn’t need to be singled out). Really sad that this isn’t what happens. Apparently that wouldn’t have been no homo enough.

LET THE DESTINY TRIO GROUP HUG YOU COWARDS


Do Riku and Kairi even interact once in the whole game?


HOW IS THIS A TRIO, IT’S JUST A SHITTILY WRITTEN LOVE TRIANGLE

6) Time travelling is a bitch, Christ. It doesn’t solve plotholes or can be played for drama, it just adds MORE plotholes. It just got WORSE. The cloning blues and people not aging doesn’t help, either.

7) Just so you know, I care absolutely zero for wild fan theories. You’re not Nomura. I want a statement from the man who wrote this shit himself why on bloody earth Sora dies when he apparently successfully found and brought back Kairi (and since nobody aged a day, apparently it didn’t even take that long lol). DUDES, THIS IS KINDA PART OF THE PLOT, AND YOU DON’T BOTHER TO EXPLAIN IT INGAME???? And how was Ienzo/Zexion able to revive Naminé while Kairi was still missing/dead/whatever…?

Okay so in short the writing is worse than ever and that’s saying something.

However, let’s try to find something good in this trainwreck; it wasn’t all bad. There’s some really nice scenes which sadly are better enjoyed without any context at all.

So, guess my favourite scenes.You had time enough, here’s the solution:

1) Purifying uhm er rescuing Aqua. Poor girl. She deserves the rest. Poor, poor Aqua. The only properly wirrten female in the whole damn franchise. Also the only person other than Riku who fucking gets shit done.

2) The Gayblade (TM)

3) Happy Axel in the reunion with his kids. Oh god, the poor chap deserves it so much. Thank you, Nomura. I don’t care that it makes pretty much no sense. Make him happy. Give him his friends back. Just give Axel all his friends and let him happily set things on fire. Hi I love Axel

4) The party at the beach cutscene before the credits roll. Axel and Xion get clothes. Half the organization is on our side now. I almost teared up at the Wayfinder trio saying goodbye to Eraqus’ forceghost. Hey come on he’s the voice of Luke Skywalker

5) Sully yeeting Vanitas

6) Woody calling out Xehanort that nobody loves him

7) Jack Sparrow bad breathing Luxord

I wish we had gotten:

1) justice for Kairi

2) a happy Zexion, the poor emo kid. Well maybe now he will be, with all the orga members who changed sides now, lol.

3) I will never trust mobile games ever again so I don’t want to play KHUX but I would have loved to learn about the Keyblade Wars :;))))


WHAT WAS THE KEYBLADE WAR ABOUT CAN WE SPEND MORE TIME IN THAT COOL CITY IN THE SKY WHAT’S THE DEAL WITH MIKLEO
I MEAN THAT EPHEMER KIDDO


WHAT’S WITH THE MASKED DUDES AND DUDETTES FROM THE MOVIE


WTF WHAT HAPPENED TO THEM AFTER THE MOVIE???? WHERE THOSE KEYBLADE USER NAMES ACTUAL MOBILE GAME PLAYER NAMES??? Next game? PLEASE?

I really, REALLY hope the epilogue means we will get Xiggy/Luxu as our new big bad and we learn more about the five dudes and dudettes from the movie. Please. PLEASE. I’m so up for it. Them finally pickung up the bit with Maleficent and the mysterious box again? Hell yeah.

The secret movie was really unexciting in comparison, although I laughed very hard at the “Verum Rex” scene in Toy Story world. Maybe that’s why it was much cheaper to unlock than in KH1 and KH2.

4) give Ven a drink

DLC ideas I would actually pay for because I’m a sad human being: 1) more Disney worlds 2) Japanese audio 3) at least one of the following as permanently playable characters: Riku, Kairi, Axel, Ven, Aqua. At least as a guest member as in KH2. THIS SUCH A BIG STEP BACKWARDS I’M FUMING

FINAL THOUGHTS

Kingdom Hearts 3 is a hella lot of fun, beautiful, and also moving when it sets its mind to it. Unfortunately it doesn’t always do so. I don’t feel like it wasn’t worth the wait; it was. However, I’m very salty how rotten the writing is. I do not mind logical fallacies, I do not mind the cheesiness and cringeyness; however, I do mind how so many interesting characters do not get the screentime they deserve, and Kairi is a very bad joke.

I’ll probably find more to nitpick about (Gods. Just. Don’t come up with dub excuses why Sora is lv 1 in each game. JUST LEAVE IT BE. You don’t explain why Donald and Goofy are lv 1 again, either. JUST. LEAVE. IT. BE. The sacrifice was dumb and not even moving, I’m just still furious that Kairi’s ONLY point in the plot is being so useless that it’s literally getting herself KILLED and she needs constant rescuing to the point that Sora has to sacrifice himself for her, effectively. Kairi deserves better, Sora deserves better, I deserve better than to think about this absurdity.…I’m just… gonna cherry-pick the good bits from the lore and try to pretend the finale didn’t exist, I guess. GODS.

[rosaetae]

the bedtime contract

➢  pairing: taehyung x reader

➢  genre: roommate!au, major fluff and a sprinkle of angst

➢  word count: 13.4k 

➢  a/n: testing out different styles of writing! so this may be a tad different than my usual angst-y writing. 

➢  summary: life could have been so much better if you didn’t end up living with him because then you wouldn’t have to sign a stupid contract to help you sleep better at night.

The dorm smelled like old wood and a fresh start.

Walking into the depths of your new home, even if it was temporary, seemed surreal— too surreal. Ever since you were little in a small town, the one thing that you looked forward to was growing up and being able to live without the rules invoked by your parents along with them breathing down your neck, expecting for the best from you.

Which is why you always envied those who were older than you. Those who had reached college and lived the ecstasy of independence and/or those who didn't even need college to live their life doing something they love.

In fact, you were rather envious of your older sister who defied your parent's expectations of going to college and becoming a doctor of some sort to become a striving musician. She would travel across the world with her best friend and play gigs at small, underrated places where some people would recognize her and the art she made through a guitar and her vocals.

Because of her decision to do that, she only called home once every month as the acrimony of her and your parents still lingered even if she was 1000 miles away; and if she were to even keep in touch every day, she would only be dragged down by dread your parents would give her. Whereas you, you were told to not do everything your sister was doing.

And finally, you were going to college on your own, and finally living the bliss of being independent sounded better than hearing your parents talk about the ruthless things your sister has done as if she was plotting against the world.

However, all your excitement to finally be independent was drained when you saw who was your roommate on move in day. All your expectations to have a roommate to share clothes with and talk to almost every day dissipated into the air. And that was basically the beginning of how you were living under the same roof of an impudent, dogmatic, and vast jerk who does not hold one single ounce of consideration.

But that's not all.

You both made a deal to sleep beside each other for the rest of your nights.

.

The dorm was larger than most dorms with 2 bedrooms and a single bathroom, making you cringe a little when realizing that you were not only sharing a dorm, but a bathroom, with someone whom you can't associate yourself with.

Forget the warm autumn candles and petite plants you bought at a boutique the week before moving in, because you knew that after finding out whom you shared rooms with was someone who despised all of those type of things, it was going to be banned from your shared dorm.

And you can feel it now: the constant nagging of your parents as they spill 'I told you so' over a million times and never letting you live it down for the rest of your life and your own constant nagging (under your breath, of course) when your roommate starts to piss you off.

But, it was your fault, you had to admit it. If you knew you were going to be put in this position, you wouldn't have listened to your sister when she told you to sign up for both a boy or a girl roommate. Now, this is where you stand; sharing a roof with a person that made your blood boil and nerves shake with irritation, and trying to avoid all contact him.

Kim Taehyung.

Long time ago, back in middle school— a story you never told— he was the older bully that bullied you—and only you— when you were only a puny sixth grader that still wore pigtails and had big blue circular glasses. From taunting you in the morning, to stealing your lunch money, he was the reason why middle school was a hell for you. But thank goodness it only lasted 2 years until he went to high school.

You heard that he moved to a high school far away from you and that was when you realized you weren't going to live under the fear of his wrath again, thus making your high school years a little decent. However, his friend whom you knew as Park Jimin made fun of you sometimes, but after freshmen year, you gained a confidence in which your sister had helped.

And one day when he was going to call you names and make fun of your appearance, you made a marvelous riposte regarding to his height, making his friends snicker at your comeback, and due to his ego being torn a bit, he never spoke to you since. Not one joke about your appearance, not one insult about your personality, not anything that rolled from his tongue.

Though, you hoped that Kim Taehyung would have not recognized you at least. It was almost 6 years ago, and you were just starting a new life in college— an independent one without the help or the nagging from your parents. You grew, he grew, you matured, and you hope to the gods up there that he matured just a tiny bit.

And on move-in day, it didn't seem like he recognized you, which was fine by you.

You arrived first with your copious amount boxes and a few luggages as you were just taking your comforter and sheets out of its box and into your room when he came in and set his many stuff down in the household.

You didn't really recognize him until you got a glimpse of his profile, your mind flickering back to when he stole your lunch money that one unfaithful day, telling you that 'little kids aren't allowed to hold money'— or some stupid phrase like that—, and you quickly sped out of that dorm complex and into your car where you locked yourself in there for a minute, your mind not connecting these points together correctly.

Going back after a minute of breathing, you cautiously walked into your dorm room to see that he had his bed fixed and neatly tucked, but he wasn't present, making you sigh deeply in relief as you quickly put your boxes and luggage into your designated room before he would come back.

The second time you two were in the same room was when you were picking up the last box and you saw he was putting stuff on the kitchen counter. You both looked up (rookie mistake) and locked gazes, making your heart stop when you noticed that his features were perfectly sculpted, even from afar. He no longer had a baby face and spiked hair that took longer than your lifespan to keep up with hair-gel, and when he had his rosy lips curl into a small, innocent like smile, you couldn't tell if he knew you or not.

"Hello, we didn't get to introduce ourselves yet," he says nonchalantly as he takes out a bag of shredded cheese he bought from the store, and gives you a more genuine smile, making you relax a bit when you realized he hasn't recognized you completely. "I'm Taehyung."

"Hi, Taehyung," you quietly say and he raises an eyebrow, taking bags of chips and cans of soda out of the plastic bags. "I'm—"

"Hi, __," he cuts you off, making you jump at the sound of your name rolling out of his tongue. "You know, I almost didn't recognize you. It's glad to see you again."

And instead of widening your eyes at that, you smile back, tightening your grip onto the box you were carrying. "It's always a pleasure, Taehyung." And with a whirl of your heel, you were heading back to your bedroom, hearing the small chuckle that you heard from the kitchen.

That night, you couldn't help but curse under your breath before going to sleep.

"Out of all people, it had to be me!" You slightly spat while hastily adjusting your pillow to its proper position to help you sleep. "Me, the girl he bullied. Me, the girl who hates his guts. Me, the one that shouldn't have listened to her sister!"

You exasperatingly sigh as you plop onto your bed, kicking your feet under the comforter as you lie on your left side, eyes staring out the window that looked out upon the city lights just a few miles ahead. The orange and white lights all seemed to blend together to help you relax your fuming heart.

From outside your room, you could hear the front door open and shut, either meaning your roommate went somewhere else or he just came back from who knows where, but whatever he does, it will not affect you anymore. Because when you wake up tomorrow, you are going to request for a room exchange.

And although that might mean you were going to lose the view that you were grateful for and the large amount of space you get in your own private room, you didn't seem to care about it as much as leaving the place in which would make you go mentally insane knowing that someone like him is within your range 24/7.

You closed your eyes as you felt yourself calm down a bit knowing that there's a solution for everything.

However, you noticed something... missing. Sitting up, you gave a 360 view of your room and your bed until you realized what was going on. Then, that's when it clicked.

You were missing your pillow.

.

You dragged yourself out of bed at 7 in the morning after a night of hardly any shuteye and began your gait to the main building and requested for a dorm change, only to result to one of the RA's telling you that the requests would take a few weeks minimum to process the changes and avert you to another room due to the many people that requested for a room change.

Those reasons were either because the room was too small, too big, or they wanted to live independently, or with a group of 4 for a cheaper price, etc. and all it did was make you even more drained than you already were realizing that you had to wait longer.

Which also meant you were stuck with him for a bit longer.

Stepping inside your dorm, you noticed that the shower was on, you assuming that Taehyung was there taking a shower as you went to your room and gathered your stuff for your physics class that would start soon. As you got your backpack and binder ready, you exited out of your room to grab a water bottle from the fridge, only to widen your eyes and have a shriek release out of your mouth when you saw your roommate shirtless in front of you.

"What are you doing?" You ask with a roll of your eyes.

"Getting a snack," he replies nonchalantly and it makes you sigh in irritation. "What are you doing?"

"I was going to get a water bottle, but looks like I might have to gauge my eyes out instead," you exaggerate with a bit of bitterness to your tone as you walked to your shared fridge and grabbed a water bottle.

"Oh, don't act like you don't like it," he proclaims. "Any girl would kill to see this in the morning." Closing the fridge at slow pace, you turn your body away from him, shoving the bottle into your bag, while scoffing at his cockiness that made you want to rip your own hair out.

"Yeah? Well, I'd rather jump off a bridge to even look at you," you retort and you could feel his smirk growing on his face as you shoved your feet into your Converse. "In fact, I'll probably go visit the one 10 minutes away."

"That's funny, love," Taehyung laughs a sonorous laugh, resulting to you rolling your eyes again. "Hope to see you later?"

And as you grab your keys from around your neck, you quickly glance at him halfway exiting the door and he flashes you a smile. "Sadly, yes. Just expect a new roommate in the next few weeks or so."

"Gladly," he replies as you shut the door, you cursing to yourself at how ignorant and irritating you clearly remember his as.

From the way he spoke to you as if he held a title that was superior to you to that crook of a smile as he would curl his lips, to the way amusement shined in his eyes when he made an amazing riposte— you simply hated it. The way he talked only brought back the nightmares you would get back in your junior high days because of him, his crooked grin reminded you of the flirtatious smile in which he used to woo with all your friends and other girls, but somehow only chose to bully you, and his comebacks were just plain frustrating.

What have you done to be fated to room with one of the worst people you've ever met in your entire life? Was the universe out to get you? Was high school just a temporary break from hell?

Who knows.

.

The answer is actually: yes. Yes, the universe is out to get you, and yes, high school was indeed a temporary 4 year break from the hell of junior high. However, you still have yet to figure out why the gods and fate have somehow intertwined together and chose you to act upon these consequences.

Because that night— that awful dreadful night— you entered the shared dorm after long hours of your classes and studying at the library, only to hear the ungodly sounds that no one should enter to at 2 AM after reviewing conceptual physics. You were just thankful it wasn't taken place in the foot of the living room when all you saw was a bra hanging from one of the counter stools. Sure, disgust and dread was what you felt; but you were about to scream in frustration that you can't even enjoy a week of your college life without getting shut eye— not that you were going to anyways.

And as you heard a few seconds of what you wish you unheard, you quickly dashed out of your dorm and went over to Soojin's apartment she shares with her sister.

It was late, you were tired from walking across the campus multiple times and you were tired from walking up and down the stairs of the dorm complex that when you stood in front of Soojin's door, you didn't realize that she opened it as you were already snoozing against her wall.

After her claiming you inside and giving you her extra pajamas, she brings you to her room where you lie there, eyes half closed.

"You know you have your own place, right?" Soojin points out and you scoff, turning around in her bed.

"That's currently occupied with my roommate and his... plus one," you grimace as you hear your best friend snicker whilst you close your eyes, just wanting to forget the regretful moment of when you stepped foot in your shared dorm.

"Can't blame him, even I'm surprised you both haven't had sex ye—"

Before she could even finish that sentence, you grabbed the pillow from beneath your head and threw it over your torso, hitting her square in the face, making her gasp out loud at the impact. "Violence is never the answer, Y/N!"

"Should have thought about that before you said that," you retort.

"Alright, alright," Soojin chuckles into air, making you smile a little bit. "No need to be hissy with me, I am letting you stay for the night to escape those 'ungodly noises' from the room across from yours."

With that, you burst out laughing, your laugh blending with hers in the atmosphere as you both laid there, talking in the dark, you suddenly not that tired as before.

"What are you going to do when you see him tomorrow?"

"I'm going to talk to him, obviously," you shrug. To you, it was the adult thing to do and hopefully, he would come to understand and not piss you off like he always does.

"Or," your ears listen onto what Soojin has to say. "You could switch out. But, I personally wouldn't. He's too cute."

Grabbing the same pillow again, you were about to hit her. "Soojin—"

"Okay okay!" She laughs, bringing her hands to her face as her shield. "Don't hit me with the pillow again. I'm just saying, you're too practical and it isn't going to stop him from annoying you. You could switch out or get revenge."

"I can't switch out for a couple of weeks." Then you raise your eyebrows at her. "How can I get revenge?"

"Easy. You could always bring a guy home, too—"

Hit.

"Okay, I deserved that," Soojin dissipates into laughter after a loud oomf. "But, there are other options than to just talk it out. It's not like telling him not to do it anymore is going to make him actually not do it anymore. He's probably gonna do other things to piss you off."

"I'll just avoid him," you simply say before yawning.

Soojin sighs next to you. "Well, you're always welcome here anytime. But if you're going to be showering, you're going to have to pay for the water bill." Stifling a laugh, you just shook your head, wondering how on earth you were going to avoid him.

Amidst your worrying and overthinking, you fell asleep.

.

As a week passed, Taehyung noticed that you rarely show up in the mornings. He didn't know if it's because you left earlier than usual or if you slept in, but he had an 8 am class and he knew that you had an 8 am class as well. However, that morning you were there, you only managed to get 3 hours of sleep the previous night.

It was 12 am when you got back from the library and you were thankful that you didn't have to hear the same noises that prevented you to enter your dorm without pressing your ear to the front door. You didn't sleep until 3 and you somehow managed to wake up at 6 am in a rush to hurry and leave before you could encounter Taehyung again.

Taehyung speaks up as you were walking past him towards the front door, about ready to leave. "Can we talk?"

"No," you reply almost instantly, but as you say that you hear him shuffling towards you while you tried to shove your feet decorated in hedgehog socks into your white shoes under a second to quickly leave.

"And why not?" He asks, standing a few feet away from you.

You stomped your foot onto the ground after putting on the shoes, and grab the dorm key out of your bag. "Because I have nothing to talk to you about."

"__, your class doesn't start in 2 hours," he points out. "Why are you in a rush?"

Shoot, you thought.

"I'm going to get coffee," you semi-lie, hand already unlatching the front door but Taehyung is a step ahead, grabbing your wrist and pulling you back into the dorm.

"Taehyung, let go–" he ignores your protests and has you sit on the counter stool. "Y/N, just spare me 5 minutes of your time and then you can go get coffee."

You huff, eyes shooting daggers at him while he stares at you. "What do you want? My lunch money?"

He doesn't respond, but only stares at you until you could feel yourself grow hot and your cheeks turn streaks of pink and it suddenly got a little too hot for a day of 80% chance of rain. "You haven't been sleeping."

"Gee, I wonder why," you say sarcastically. "Cause I've totally been sleeping through the nights while you're fucking in the room across from mine."

He smirks at your sarcasm. "It was one time." At that, you narrow your eyes, shaking your head in doubt at his cockiness that radiated off of him. "Okay, maybe not one time."

"Whatever. It's not like you actually care if I get a good night sleep or not," you declare and attempt to get up but Taehyung grabs your wrist again, eyes telling you to sit down but you only roll your eyes again while he moves to stand in front of you.

"Woah woah," Taehyung scoffs. "That's a little rough, don't you think?"

"We aren't friends and you clearly don't give a shit after fucking girls—"

"Okay, I admit; not my best move," he puts his hands up in defense while you huff and as you wait for him to continue, you begin to grow warm as he stares at you for a bit, his eyes examining you closely. "You haven't been sleeping at all, have you?"

Your voice softens as you speak, "It's not that big of a deal–"

"__," he sighs. "You haven't been sleeping and I could tell."

You straighten yourself, face maintaining your hard expression. "I'm fine."

"Will you tell me what's keeping you up at night? Do you need sleeping pills?" He asks and you were slightly surprised at his questions before he says, "God, you look like a zombie."

Scoffing, you grab your wrist back. "No and no. Are we done? I have to run to the coffee shop before they run out of the hazelnut lattes."

"__, they never run out of hazelnut lattes," Taehyung says in amusement as he was responded with the loud shut of the door.

.

You had came home late once again, but to your unfortunate events, Taehyung was surprisingly awake at that time, and you found it odd when you saw him there, waiting for you.

"Welcome back, roomie!" He sang loudly, and you had to close your eyes, hoping that he would go away, but sadly, he did not. "I have a proposal for you."

You sigh in disappointment, only to wash it away with a fake smile as he approaches you with a proposing smile. "I'm just going to jump to conclusions and give you a flat out answer and that is no."

Taehyung chuckles at you, making you even more irritated than you should be. "You haven't heard it yet! But trust me on this, it's going to benefit you."

Turning your entire focus on him, you give a sour look. "First, when did I ever trust you? Second, how do I know it's not going to benefit you?"

"Because, __," he pauses with dramatic effect. "I want you to sleep with me."

"Okay that went better in my head so the slap was well-deserved, but hear me out!"

"Taehyung! I am not going to sleep with you. I'm going to switch out of this dorm and you can sleep with the next girl who rooms with you," you scoff while making a face that shows how much you wanted to punch him. "You are so lucky I am not using my foot to kick some sense into you!"

"I want you to sleep beside me," he corrects making you question his proposal even more. "Not with me."

"Oh, yeah, because that makes everything better!" You shake your head, pushing past him towards your room. "Why on earth would I–"

"I talked to Soojin," he admits, cutting you off. "She told me how you can't sleep without a pillow and how you left it back at home."

"Why— out of all people— are you talking to her?"

"I may have been curious as to where you're always disappearing to at night..."

"You stalked me?" You concluded.

"No, not really. Just so happened to see you leaving the library when I was gonna offer you a ride back to our dorm, but I saw that Soojin picked you up. And she's in my chemistry class so the topic was brought up and she told me it's because you need someone to sleep beside you at night..."

"I'm killing her," you utter.

"Look, it's fine! I understand, I completely understand," Taehyung grins, and all you could do is mentally choke him on one hand on the other hand, you're choking your best friend. "I just noticed that you weren't getting any sleep and we're going to be stuck together for awhile—"

"No."

"I'm not expecting an answer, yet. I want you to think about it. I know it's weary to even trust me, but I'm being serious. If I were you, I would get tired from going to my friend's house 20 minutes away and trying to get to class in time. I'm just offering you a deal and you don't have to accept just yet."

You hesitate. "Why do you care all of a sudden?"

"Believe it or not, ignorant assholes like me have a heart," he asserts with a smirk, having you raise an eyebrow. "And I know I haven't given you a reason to trust that I care, but I do. You're sleep-deprived and I just... want to help."

You nod slowly and he nods back, and you both end the day without talking to each other.

.

"Accept it!" Soojin says from above her laptop.

Maybe talking about his so-called 'proposal' to Soojin at a cafe was a little unplanned, considering that when she hears news like this, she is ridiculously loud in responding.

You shush her as everyone looks at her, wondering what on earth could the loud person in a green scarf be hollering about at a quiet cafe at 10 in the morning. "Sorry," she apologizes as her eyes scan around the room. Then she turns to you.

"Why didn't you accept it?"

"Are you forgetting that I hate his guts?" Raising her eyebrows, she sighs in response. "This wouldn't happen if you kept your mouth shut."

"__, I get it, but think about it," she ignores the fact that she exposed you entirely and that truly, she was the reason why you were given this proposal. "You get to sleep in your shared dorm room, you'll sleep better, and you don't have to come home late while walking into something. You don't have to waste money on a taxi to come to my house and you don't have to wake up extra early just so you won't be late to your first class!" Soojin points out and all you do in response is slacken a bit in your seat.

"You're just saying that so I wouldn't have to sleep over anymore."

Soojin opens her mouth to say something but she closes it as you cock an eyebrow. "Nope, I tried to make an excuse, but I can't because that's basically the reason."

As you scoff, she chuckles into her latte. "Look, it's beneficial for me and it's way more beneficial for you." You shake your head, not agreeing before Soojin groans quietly. "__, stop being stubborn and letting your hatred for him get in the way of a good night's sleep. He obviously cares for you and—"

"It's probably just an excuse to get into my pants."

"Good!" She exclaims and you stare at her frivolousness. "You'll get a good night's sleep and the best sex in the world!"

Palming your forehead, you suddenly wished you disappeared along with the dust and dirt being swept away by the waitress who was sweeping the floor beside you— who also most likely heard what Soojin said a little too loudly.

"Look," she begins quietly, folding her hands together on top of her binder. "I think you should think long and hard about this. He notices that you're not there in your own shared dorm anymore and he notices that you're a walking corpse.

"And face it, you're not switching out of that dorm anytime soon, so you might as well suck it up and accept it, because as much as I am your best friend that will welcome you to my home with a bed and ramyeon noodles at your side, I advise you to take this proposal. If you don't feel comfortable with it after awhile, you can always drop it and I'll be happy to let you sleep in my bed again."

"Alright, alright," you huff at her urgency. "I'll think about it."

.

The next couple days of taking your time to think long and hard about your given proposal, you made up your mind after being late to your first class of the day for the fifth time and your professor finally calling you out for it in front of everyone— which was a very embarrassing moment in your life, considering that you were forced to explain your reason and your past reasons for being tardy. Not only that, but Soojin forgot to pick you up at the library one night (probably on purpose) and you were stuck with walking back to your dorm and having to experience another sleepless night.

So then, one night, you heard Taehyung come home and go straight to his room at 9 pm and you told yourself you wouldn't give in.

But after 2 hours of being stubborn, you finally knock on his door a few times and after a few minutes, the door swung, and you were faced with a shirtless Taehyung standing in front of you.

"__?" His voice groggy and confused. You almost felt bad that you woke him up.

"Alright," you say. "I accept your proposal."

"What–"

"I'm agreeing to your proposal."

It takes him a second or two and a few blinks to finally comprehend what you had stated until he finally nods.

"But," you start, a pointing a finger to his chest. "There are rules. You can't bring a sex buddy over. I don't know about you, but I'm agreeing to this arrangement mostly because I don't want to come in at the wrong time." Taehyung nods, but you shake your head at that gruesome moment you wished you could un-burn from your mind. "No lovey dovey kissy touchy stuff." He laughs, but seeing that you were actually very serious, he purses his lips, a small smile still evident. "And we can not tell anyone."

He scoffs, causing you to cock an eyebrow. "Why would I want to brag about sleeping with you?"

You roll your eyes at him. At least you guys were on the same page.

"And no feelings," you immediately throw in. "No growing feelings or attachments, none of it. If that happens, then we're better off sleeping in our own bedrooms."

Taehyung laughs. "Are you done?"

"If you try something, Kim," you warn and he stares at you, almost bored. "I will kick you off the damn bed and you can sleep on the cold floor."

"Noted," he chirps. "Do you want me to write it on paper or something?"

"Yes," you say and he's slightly bewildered at your seriousness, but he shakes his head and releases a tired smile.

"Tomorrow, okay? I think it's a little late to do that," he suggests and you blink at his straightforwardness. "Do you want to start now?"

You don't say anything, but instead follow him inside his own room. You notice that it was neater than you would thought it would be. He had some posters of art hung on his walls including some of Monet and Van Gogh, having you realize that you never thought him out as someone who would appreciate art. His bed was slightly messed up, but that was because you woke him up from his sleep, and it suddenly occurred to you that that bed had its moments where you were admittedly scarred from.

"Wait!" You say and Taehyung groans, his form already made comfy in his own bed disturbed as he sat up. "In my bed. I'm not sleeping in that bed."

"You're so picky," he utters in annoyance beneath his breath and you glare at him.

"Well, excuse me if I am uncomfortable knowing that you had others in your bed," snarking back, you begin to walk out of the room into yours where your bed was still made and folded neatly. "And put on a shirt!"

Taehyung follows you in, throwing a plain black shirt over his head as you went to your designated side of the bed and he climbs in after you.

As both of you have reached your comfort, you sighed and stared out at the window with the view. Suddenly, you felt a sudden pull from your waist and you jump in surprise at the feeling of Taehyung's arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close into his chest.

"What are you doing?" You ask, your voice alarmed.

"Spooning," he answers tiredly.

"Did I not say—"

"Relax, we're just spooning. Everyone does it."

You bite your lip and nod ever so slightly and you try to follow his words and relax, but how could you when all you could feel his breath down your neck and his torso against your back.

"Why are you so tense?" He breaks the silence and sighs in exasperation, making you slightly relax to prove a point.

"I'm not tense," you snap.

"Is it your first time spooning?" His breath fans your neck, causing you to grow goosebumps along your skin, and you suddenly to regret this decision.

"Y-yeah," you admit. "Sorry, I'm not used to this."

"It's okay. There's a first time for everything," he says quietly, and you slightly smile at the fact at how adorable he sounded tired. "But just relax, just pretend I'm not even here."

And you listened to his words where you closed your eyes and tried to forget that the one person who you feared as a child was sleeping beside you, and for some reason, you felt a whole lot more safe than you were before.

.

That morning, you were awakened by the blazing sound of your alarm clock and the first thing that hit you that strange morning was that you were not alone in your bed. Then the sudden struck of realization hit you like a bowling ball knocking over pins when you realized that you had willingly agreed to his proposal and willingly led him into your bed and willingly let him spoon you.

Your dorm mate stirs beside you and groans. "Can you shut that off?"

Rolling your eyes, you throw your knee against his side, making him lift his head with a startled motion before laying it back down onto your pillow with eyes drooping back shut. "Get up," you say and you watch as he grabs his phone from your nightstand and checks that he woke up 2 hours earlier than usual.

"We still have 2 hours," he groans, shifting his body towards you so that he can pull you in again. Shaking your head, you slap his hands away and sit up, tying your hair into a messy bun and stood up out of bed.

"2 hours until our first class," you state, throwing on your slippers. You had to admit, you felt more energized than the other mornings you encountered. "Get up and go for a run or something. I'm going to get some coffee and no way am I letting you stay in my bed for the remaining hours."

Taehyung raises his head from the bed, a small sleep smirk plastered on his face and you just knew what he was going to say. "I take it you had a good sleep last night?"

You didn't answer because admittedly, you slept better than most nights.

The next night was the same. However, you came home late and you found him sound asleep on your bed, leaving your spot open, as if he was waiting for you. It was an odd image coming home from another tiring day to see your dorm mate was fast asleep in your bed— not only that, but he was fast asleep, practically still waiting for you.

You couldn't help but crack a smile, though, knowing that this boy who has the ability to have you mentally kill him has given you the slightest feeling of warmth inside of you.

But you told yourself not to let this feeling take over, because it was apart of the contract (which you still have yet to put on paper) and you knew that he was your middle school bully, so there shouldn't be a tiny bit of care in this arrangement, but somehow and in some incredulous way, you felt secure being beside him.

"Stop touching me there," you groan again, slapping his hand away from your hip. "What happened to just spooning?"

Taehyung releases a loud grunt in exasperation as you two were trying to get into a very comfortable spot for 20 minutes, but it was always you who did not like the fact that he had his leg over you, his hand at your hip, or his face nuzzling into your neck as it made you ticklish.

"Okay, __," he takes an annoyed inhale. "It's either you're big spoon or I'm big spoon. And please, make a decision fast. I'd like to get my sleep, if you don't mind, of course."

You sigh, rolling your eyes at his sarcasm. Tossing around in your spot to face him, eyes shooting daggers at him, even in the dark, you decided on; "I'll be big spoon."

Taehyung stares at you with tired, but irritated eyes, but finally sighed, and turned around in his spot. At that moment, you wrapped your arms around him, along with throwing your legs over him, and it felt like you were hugging a big pillow. But, concededly, it was very comfortable than the other positions where nothing could have worked.

"Better?" He inquires, and you nod, eyes closing shut.

"Better," you assure.

.

"What's your excuse?"

Taehyung and you were facing the same problem a few nights later: a sleepless night. Staring at the empty ceiling and engulfing into the loud silence seemed apparent to both of you, but you both assumed that one of you would fall first and go to sleep. But an hour of tossing and turning, eyes blinking, and mind awake, Taehyung couldn't help but break the silence first.

"What?" You asked in a hushed tone, confused on his question he was asking.

"What's the reason why you can't sleep? It can't just be your pillow," he simply asks.

You two weren't showing any contact. Your back was facing him as he lied on his back, staring up at the ceiling. Sighing, you might as well tell him why.

"I can't sleep without my pillow," you mumble, waiting for every single snort or snicker to elicit from his mouth, but he just stares at the ceiling, unfazed. So you continue. "I got it from my mom. She had insomnia and ever since I was born, she slept in the same room as me and somehow, I helped her sleep a little better at night. But when high school started, that's when I had trouble sleeping and—"

You peer over at Taehyung who had averted his eyes and had been staring at you the whole time, eyes curious as to what you had to say while you caught yourself from letting something fall out of your mouth easily.

"My mom had business trips," you state. "So that pillow helped me cope with that."

Taehyung nodded, him being a bit suspicious to your hesitation mid-explanation. "So, that's why you can't sleep without a pillow, and why you go over to Soojin's, huh?"

Nodding, you pursed your lips. "Something about feeling safe when I'm the most vulnerable helps me sleep better at night."

He nods again, eyes staring at yours, and even in the dark, you can still make out his chocolate eyes. You notice he parts his lips a little bit and it took you a moment to understand that you were staring at him, and he was staring at you, a spark of who-knows-what kindling between you two.

However, he smirked, knowing that you were feeling the same thing as he was, and that was all the warnings you needed before you turned your back towards him again, cheeks growing red and eyes staring out at the city through your window to keep your heart from beating so loudly.

You hear a low chuckle, and it makes you bite your tongue as you pull the sheets closer to your face.

"Goodnight, __."

.

It became a cycle after a few weeks. You knew that you wouldn't be able to get a switch until after the semester so it was better if you got accustomed to this arrangement. One day on a weekend, when you both were not busy and were surprisingly stuck at the dorm together, he had surprised you with the contract you agreed to on full card-stock paper. On top was written 'THE BEDTIME CONTRACT' in big fat Sharpie letters and there were the few rules on there that you verbally announced, but did not think Taehyung would memorize.

1. The first rule is to not ever speak of this arrangement outside of this dorm room.

2. Second rule is lovey dovey touchy kissy stuff is not permitted; as said by the woman herself. (Except for spooning, cuddling, and other techniques that will help make the other party go to sleep).

3. Final rule, no attachments. If feelings or attachments begin to spark, it is best for the other party to confess first to initiate the separation of both parties sleeping beside each other, and to nullify this very contract.

Signed by,

You signed your name and Taehyung signed his in black ink and it became the official statement of The Bedtime Contract.

Not knowing how, but the contract has made you become more comfortable with Taehyung. You've learned that he did mature— except the times when he would procrastinate on his homework and play Overwatch— and you've learned that he's not so much of a bad guy. He's helping you sleep, for one, and sure he's got his cocky smug moments, but he seems to care about you more often than you think he would.

You don't feel a sudden distaste for him when he calls you at night, wondering where you are.

"Where are you?" He would ask in a bored tone through the phone as you were just entering a coffee shop.

"Getting coffee? You want anything?" You say back as you pulled out your debit card.

"No, just come home," he would state through a heavy yawn and hang up.

You don't feel a huge discomfort when you realize he's next to you in bed, snoring away.

As you walked into your room after a long study session, you noticed Taehyung hugging a pillow and snoring as your side of the bed was empty. His snores were soft, but audible and as you climbed into bed after changing and brushing your teeth, you felt a new feeling grow in your stomach when you stared at him all vulnerable right beside you.

And you cursed yourself for staring at him a second too long because he wakes up to your eyes staring at him. As you freeze at that moment knowing he was going to say something cocky or say something inappropriate, you hold your breath until he just sighs and closes his eyes again.

"You're back," he would say groggily and you let out a subtle breath of relief.

"Yeah, studying sucks," you reply and the only thing that ended the conversation was his soft low chuckle as you both went to sleep.

You don't have this huge urge to punch him anymore when he greets you in the morning with his sleepy smile and groggy voice.

"Good morning, sunshine," he greets with a moan as he stretches his arms up high. "How was your sleep?"

You open one eye to give him a tired glare, but you somehow appreciated the drowsy smile he had plastered on his face and the way his hair was a little messed up that you groan and turn away from him, biting the smile that was unwillingly being forced upon your lips.

"5 more minutes then?" He chuckles as you try to hide your growing hot face with your fleece blanket.

Hell, you suddenly forget your past with him when you're with him in the moment.

It's become this new feeling you've grown used to that you don't get terrified when he's the bigger spoon; you don't get confused when he's talking to you at night; and you somehow feel invulnerable when you sometimes wake up in the night and see that he's there beside you.

Maybe it's you going crazy and way out of your mind, but you had to admit, ever since he made that proposal, you felt more safe.

A few weeks and you both have grown on each other, and you don't know

"Have you ever dated anyone?" Taehyung ponders one night and you flip around to face him, eyebrows scrunched.

He cocks an eyebrow and you chuckle. "Once. In junior year for a month."

"A month?" He asks in bewilderment. "Why a month?"

You shrug. "I guess I can't commit to commitment."

Then, a smug look grows on his face and you knew that he was going to say something smart. "You're committing to our plan—"

"If you keep talking," you start, a scowl painted on your face. "I'm not so sure if I want to continue committing—"

"Okay, okay," he starts and you smile at him.

"Have you dated anyone?"

Then it was his turn to chuckle. "Yes, many. Usually the longest are 3 months."

"Girlfriends?" You press.

"One," he admits, yawning. "2 years, but ended it a couple months back." You nod, not pushing any further, knowing it wasn't your business, and because your eyes were drooping close as the silence drags on after you don't verbally reply.

"__?" Taehyung chides, you slightly being awakened, eyes still closed.

"Hmm," you hum and maybe it's just you, but you think he's going to say something after seconds have passed, or maybe you just didn't hear him loud enough.

"Sweet dreams," he finally says and you're falling asleep.

.

"You have a weird... taste."

"It's not weird," you scoff and he nods his head vigorously.

You both were grabbing something to eat as you both were disturbed by your late night hunger and you only agreed to cheeseburgers with him because he offered to pay.

"I think eating the cheese burger without the vegetables is pretty weird," he says with a very concerned face.

Rolling your eyes as you both sat down at a booth after ordering, you just shook your head. "My tastebuds are just different from yours, buddy."

"But really? A plain cheeseburger? Not even with lettuce? Or the sauce?" Taehyung gawks at you as if you just murdered someone and you simply shrug.

"The sauce is too sauce-y and the vegetables just ruins the whole point of a cheeseburger."

"It adds to the point of a cheeseburger," he retorts and you sigh, shaking your head. "I can't believe my roommate has Plain Jane tastebuds."

"Just wait until I order a drink— it's not so Plain Jane as you thought." And Taehyung snorts at that, eyes glistening and you knew he was going to take you up for that.

And he did.

After you grabbed your burgers, he drove you both to a smoothie place just to see your order— and prove that your tastebuds are NOT plain— but you weren't complaining. Free burgers and free smoothies? You couldn't say no.

As you finish looking at the menu, you order the Green Beam Smoothie that included apples, spinach, kale, orange juice, and a few grapes, but as you were ordering it you asked for the grapes to be replaced by ginger, and to add some strawberries. The cashier even looks at you a little weird when you said that the ginger shouldn't be blended with it, but just inside the smoothie.

"Ginger," Taehyung says in awe and you smile.

"Ginger."

"Do you plan on eating it or something—"

"It adds to the point of a smoothie," you mimic him earlier and Taehyung catches on, glaring at you as he ordered a simple Strawberry Smash Smoothie.

.

One random afternoon after your physics class, you came to your dorm a few minutes earlier than Taehyung would have arrived. But, after 20 minutes or so, you heard Taehyung come in.

You came out of the bedroom to find him, stumbling to kick his shoes off, and his stance, itself, wobbling. "Taehyung?" You call and he looks at you with eyes that looked tired.

"Taehyung, are you okay?" You approach him with worry seeing that as he was beginning to walk, his legs were barely standing on themselves. "Tae, what happened?"

"I'm fine," he whispers. "I just... have a headache, is all."

You knew that it was not just a headache as he could not stand properly. Dragging him into his room, you let Taehyung lie on his bed. "You should sleep."

"No, I'm... I'm fine," he breathes out and you shake your head, adjusting his pillow as you watched him close his eyes and fall fast asleep. He was wearing the clothes he wore to class today and it looked like he was cold as he hugged his arms around his torso. Quietly, you grabbed one of his fleece blankets from his closet and placed it over his shivering body, leaving him to sleep as you walked out of his room.

That night, you crawled into his bed beside him and caught yourself staring at his face. He looked tired and drained when he came into your shared dorm with no balance, and as you watch him sleep, you wonder what caused that.

"You're staring," he abruptly says, and you jump slightly as his voice.

"Sorry."

Taehyung opens his eyes slowly and drowsily, a small curl of his lips growing as he sees you with a worried look. "You look distressed."

"Well, you looked like you were about to faint," you retort causing him to snicker. "What happened earlier today? Were you tired? Did you not sleep well last night because I didn't come home?"

"Partially," he admits with ease. "Should have told me earlier that you were going to be at the library for the whole night."

Mouth opening, you shake your head. "I fell asleep on accident, okay! I didn't realize it until someone poked me in the face and said I was drooling on the text book." Taehyung sonorously laughs, making you purse your lips at the musical sound of his laughter. As it died, you were left with silence again. "What happened?"

"I guess I never told you this," he sighs before you begins. "When I made that proposal, it wasn't meant just for your benefit. I guess, I never told you that I have insomnia and I take sleeping pills a lot to help me sleep. But after awhile, I stopped."

"Did you take some last night?" You inquired and Taehyung responds with a nod.

"It was just a few, but the side effects kicked in and that's why I came home with wobbly legs and drowsy eyes," he laughs, but you don't. You were too busy staring at him with worry and care that it was hard for you to even get the slightest bit of irritation from him.

"So is that why you offered me sleeping pills that one time?"

Taehyung simply shakes his head up and down. "I don't take them anymore, but partially that's thanks to you."

Silence.

But partially that's thanks to you.

You bit your lip as the silence grew louder and louder and louder—!

"I lied."

Taehyung swirled in the bed to face you, eyes grazing your face with so much care as if it was the most normal thing to do, even if it made your cheeks go a little warm. "What did you lie about?"

"When high school started," you began slowly. "My mom didn't go on a lot of business trips."

Taehyung rose an eyebrow.

"She died," you admit slowly, your heart stopping at that second as you paused, staring at Taehyung for his reaction to only get an unreadable expression. "I grew up sleeping beside her every night. And when high school started, she died in a car accident and somehow, those nights haven't been exactly the same. The only thing helping me get at least 5 hours of sleep at night is the pillow that she sleeps with."

He didn't say anything, but you continued.

"I didn't sleep for awhile after she died. I slept with that pillow and sometimes, when my sister would come from her many trips, she would sleep beside me to help, but she's gone all the time. And when I found out I left my pillow at home, I didn't know what to do so I've either dealt with it or went to Soojin's. Then the whole agreement happened, and now I sleep better when I'm sleeping beside you."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

"I just- I just wanted to tell you, cause you know... we're sleeping next to each other— you told me why you couldn't sleep at night.... might as well tell you the real reason why I can't sleep."

Yes, it was unusual telling him everything you never thought you would tell, but as those words left your mouth, you didn't want to take it back. It was your truth and you began to trust him.

He couldn't help but chuckle lightly. "I guess we both need each other."

You look at him with a fixed gaze. "Yeah," you agree and he gives you this look that made your breath hitch.

.

"There's a party tonight at Namjoon’s," Taehyung began slowly and apart of you wanted to say no to his incoming question, but you let him finish anyways. "You coming?"

"I don't go to parties—"

"Ah yes, the goody two-shoes that never once partied even in high school, who would've thought," he taunts and you look up from your laptop, narrowing your eyes at him. "Come on, it's just a party. We'll be back before 1 and we can sleep."

"I'm good," you imply, shaking your head but Taehyung did not accept it.

"You're going," he affirms and he's pulling you by the wrists, making you divert your attention to your essay about whales to fighting the obstacle that was in the way of you and your preferred way of spending your Friday night.

Many yells and protests of you yelling 'let me go!' later, you were somehow at the party, surrounded by a new world of party people you have never encountered, in a striking red sweater he threw at you from your closet. At that moment, you wanted to hot wire Taehyung's car and drive yourself back to the dorms, but you couldn't do that because you're already in the middle of a maze, with Taehyung lost in sight.

You remember him saying: "Stay put, I'm getting us drinks" but you knew he would get tangled up somewhere.

You inhale sharply, trying to get your way across the party animals that were let loose and you felt yourself become smaller each time you encountered someone who looked at you up and down.

Somehow, you managed to go upstairs, hoping to find a small room to lock yourself in and call Soojin for help, but you couldn't help but hear the hushed whispers of girls behind you as you walked by.

"That's Taehyung's roommate."

"Taehyung? As in Yurim's ex? Sharing a room with her?"

A high-pitched chuckle.

"I bet they're having sex."

"Well, no shit," one of them cackles. "Kim Taehyung will get into any girl's pants—"

And you pulled yourself away from the talks that you didn't want to even hear for yourself, a growing anxiety blossoming in your chest as you quickly pull out your phone to call Soojin, who finally answers after the fourth ring.

After pleading for help, you hid yourself in the downstairs bathroom where some people banged on the door, yelling at you to hurry up in there, but little did they know, you were having a tiny mental breakdown in the bath tub. Yes, partying is not your forte.

Half an hour later, Soojin calls you telling you she's up at the front waiting and you quickly run out of the house as if there was no tomorrow. A rush of relief washes over you when you see her waiting in the car for you, eyes worried at your state when you sit in her passenger seat with eyes glassy and face red.

"Do you want to sleep at my place?" She asks hesitantly before starting the car and you automatically shook your head, wanting to go back to your dorm— for some blank reason.

After a few hours getting back with Soojin making sure you were okay, comforting you with water beside your bed and telling you how shit her day was, she had to leave and finish an essay, making you feel bad that she stayed for you. But, as you lie in your bed, changed into pajamas and heart finally calming down, you heard the door open and shut, followed by the shuffles of feet, and you froze, praying that Taehyung didn't bring a girl home.

And just then, you hear your door swing open, the person, who you assumed was Taehyung, stumbles against the wall as they tried to kick their shoes off. As you turn to see it was a matter-of-fact Taehyung walking towards your bed and plopping right next to you, your eyes go wide as he immediately pulls you into a hug.

A very beer and gin-ly hug.

His breath smelled like he had too much to drink and the first thing in your mind that pops up was how did he get home, and you suddenly worried that he drove him by himself.

"Tae," your voice was muffled by his shoulder on your mouth. "How did you get home?"

"I'm sorry," he murmurs as he smacks his lips, as he avoids the question. "I shouldn't have brought you to the party and I shouldn't have left you alone. I'm sorry I'm late."

You were speechless. You didn't want to say anything, but he just kept going anyways.

"I should have been more considerate... and Soojin yelled at me for leaving you alone like that, but reassured me that you were back at the dorm and the first thing in my mind was coming back to be next to you and make sure you're okay. I'm sorry," he says. "Also, I'm glad you came back here and not to Soojin's."

You didn't realize that the one place you wanted to go back to was here, and when he points that out, you do a double take. "Tae, I'm fine," you state. "But, tell me you didn't drive home."

"No," he answers. "I had our neighbor drive me. I just needed to get to you."

And then, your heart stops. Not because he's hugging you tight, but because he's apologizing and he was drunk. He was drunk and he remembered to come back to you. He was drunk and he was apologizing. He was drunk and he was hugging you. He was drunk and the first thing that popped into his mind was coming back here with you.

And all throughout the name, that's when you realized something bad. Something horrible. Something that shouldn't have happened, but goodness, it did.

You broke rule number 3.

.

You told yourself that you weren't breaking rule number 3. Because how could you? Sure, he's sleeping beside you, but there are times when he would walk around half naked in your own dorm and even use most of your shampoo when he ran out just to piss you off. He would even eat the last banana and forget to throw the trash away, having you to walk out in the dark in the middle of the night in nothing but your pajamas and bunny slippers. It was something about him that infuriates you to the point where you threaten to move out, but at the end of the night, you were in his arms, fast asleep.

Sometimes you would stare at him and think that this was the view every girl wanted, and you'd scoff, only to realize that his face became evermore ethereal the longer you stared.

And one night, you told him that he could sleep in his room and lied that you were going to be up all night on a project and he understood and went to sleep in his own bed without questioning further. And the next night, you didn't come home that night, but you sent him a text telling him that Soojin and you had an essay to work on. And the next night, you came home right after he knocked out in his own bed. Sure, you could say you were avoiding him, but you had to.

You didn't realize you were avoiding him until Soojin asserted one night that avoiding him won't last long, especially because of that contract. And it suddenly hit you that you were, indeed, avoiding him.

So the next night, you slept beside him, but immediately fell into a deep slumber before you acknowledged his arms around you. And the morning later, you were approached by one of your RA's who had gleefully greeted you with a surprise that someone was gladly willing to trade rooms with you. Out of pure automatic response, you approved, and your RA gave you some details and said would e-mail you later about it.

Admittedly, you thought about yourself and how beginning of the school year you would respond to that, so you accepted any chance you got.

However, when you were signing one of the forms that the RA sent you, it just occurred to you what you were leaving— and whom you were leaving. But deep down, somewhere in that crazy heart of yours, you knew that you were doing this all for one reason; you were hopelessly falling for your roommate and the only thing you could do is to stay away from him as much as possible.

.

The next nights was a breeze as you were approaching midterms. Productivity gave you the opportunity to fall asleep early and easily, but the night just right before the midterm, you were wide awake and Taehyung sensed it easily.

"Why are you still awake?" He whispers, groggily.

You shrug slightly. "Can't sleep for some reason."

"Spooning?" He suggested and you find him stirring before you could answer and throwing his arms around you. Once you felt his weight, you held your breath. "Just close your eyes and sleep."

You don't say anything because you were too busy trying to make yourself faint to sleep as each of your cells died due to the lack of oxygen you shut out as you pursed your lips together. The noise of your thumping heart sounded like it the only thing you could hear, but as time continued, it got louder and louder. And louder. And loude–

"I think I'm in love with you," Taehyung confesses through his sleepy voice, and you feel yourself paralyzed entirely in your spot. In your head you hoped to the gods up there that he was just saying that because he was dreaming or he meant it as a friendly gesture, but it suddenly felt a little too warm under his embrace.

In your mind, you're thinking of ways to escape his arms, but after waiting, you realize that he doesn't say anything afterwards and you could hear his soft snoring take place.

You still held your breath.

.

"What is this?" Taehyung asks, causing you to look up from your laptop, eyes shooting straight to the form that you were supposed to give to your RA that he held in his hand. Flickering your eyes from the form to his eyes, your lips parted slightly, unable to say anything. "Were you just going to leave just like that?"

You stood up from the table, a lump growing in your throat as you walk towards him.

"I made the request a week after move-in day, after I found out that my roommate was a guy I didn't want to associate myself with," you start, only for Taehyung to furrow his eyebrows at you. "But, there was a long delay, and they found someone who was willing to switch just last week."

"Last week—?"

"I was going to tell you!" You exclaim, eyes averting to the ground. "But, I didn't know how to tell you after you told me you may be falling in love with me."

He scoffs, tossing the paper onto the table next to him. "So you were just going to pack up and leave?"

"I didn't mean for this to happen. I was hoping to leave without knowing you, but then we made that deal and I—"

He cuts you off, shaking his head. "You were going to leave me anyways."

That night, he slept in his room, and you guess it was the best, knowing that you both already broke rule number 3.”

Steadily, you entered your room when Taehyung was already in your bed. You approach him slowly and sat on the edge of the bed. Before you began to spoke, you felt that he wasn't asleep. Not fully.

"Taehyung?" You whisper.

He doesn't respond and you reply with a heavy sigh.

"I'm sorry," you mutter, eyes staring out your window. "We don't have to sleep together tonight, if you don't want to."

"__," he finally says. "Lie down."

Ignoring his demand, you try again, "Taehyung—"

"It's fine, __. Just lie down," he groans and you bite your lip.

"No, Tae, I'm sorry," you continue. "I didn't mean for anything to happen and it was just... me being dumb and inconsiderate."

He doesn't say anything and you question if he was enjoying this or not.

"Look, I'm sorry, if you're too angry for me to sleep beside you, I'll sleep on the couch toni—" Before you could finish your last word, you heard a frustrated groan release his lips and felt a grip at your waist, pulling you under, and next thing you know, you were in a position where Taehyung's face was resting in the crook of your neck and his arms were secured around your body.

You felt your heart stop as you felt his breathe on your neck and surprisingly, you couldn't seem to breathe.

"I'm not mad," he says, voice muffled by your hair and you feel yourself grow warm on your cheeks. "I may be a little upset knowing that you won't be sleeping beside me anymore, but it was nice hearing an apology from you."

You crane your neck to look at him with a baffled look. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"The stubborn, adamant girl finally apologizing for her wrong-doing?" You feel his smirk on your neck. "That's something you don't hear everyday."

Stifling a laugh, you couldn't help but smile a little bit at his joke.

"But I mean it," you start with sincerity. "I'm really sorry I didn't tell you sooner."

Taehyung sighs and you feel his grip on your waist tighten. "It's fine, Y/N. We'll talk about it in the morning."

"But—"

"I'm tired," he states. "Let's just sleep, okay? I want to cherish these last few moments with you before you leave."

You only respond by snorting as you saw his faint playful smile on his lips, but yet, you don't say anything. Instead, you nod slightly and listen to the steady breaths of Taehyung falling into a deep slumber. Minutes go by and then half an hour goes and you're still wide awake, finding the comfort of his breathing consoling along with his arms that you felt the need for him to hug you tighter, but that very thought had your heart racing and you would sigh out loud.

"You're not going by the contract," he states out of no where making you jump a little in his arms. You feel him adjust his position so that he's looking at you in the corner of your eye. You slowly turn your face to him, not peeping a word. "You know, I think I really might be falling in love with you."

Eyes flickering to him, you trip on your next words. "W-wait, w-what—"

"I'm falling in love with you," he repeats, yawning. "And I could kiss you right now."

But before you could say anything, he smacks his lips together and you could see that he's falling back to his deep sleep while you stay up thinking about his words that made your heart palpitate.

The next few days, you both don't really acknowledge the fact that you're moving out as much as you thought and the nights you spend together were the same, for the most part. You just only acknowledge the fact that he was breaking rule 3 as well, and every time you both go to bed together, you always expect him to say something, but he doesn't. Maybe he was just dreaming, his mind creating a fictitious character that made him confess his feelings— or maybe he was thinking of someone else, and maybe he thought you were that someone else.

However, Taehyung just hugs you, pulls you in close, and you both fall asleep.

As the time had come, you were packing your things when Taehyung wasn't home, and as you were packing, you realized how much you were going to miss your room with the spectacular overview of the city lights that comforted you. You were going to miss the comfort of the dorm itself, and most importantly, you were going to miss him— yeah, never thought you would say that, huh?

As shocking as that may have been, having Taehyung as a roommate didn't seem so bad. Looking past the times he purposely annoyed you to the point where you were dying due to lack of sleep because of him, you realized that he was a good cuddler. Not only that, but without him, you wouldn't have thought that sleep was an option after accidentally leaving your pillow at home. Plus, he could make some good breakfast.

But, as you were packing, you realized how much you wished you didn't agree to move out, no matter how much you from the beginning of the year wanted to, you suddenly will miss having good night sleeps and you will definitely miss him, entirely.

Taehyung, who comes in later that night, sings your name as he enters the home. As you were moving boxes out into the living space, he smirks at you as you approach him. "I have a gift for you. Call it a parting away— even if it's only a hallway down— present."

Chuckling lightly, you roll your eyes playfully. "Wow, thanks."

"Close your eyes," he says and you rose an eyebrow. "Just do it. It adds to the surprise of it."

So you closed your eyes, pondering what on earth could he have given you? Sleeping pills? Probably never going to take them knowing that they give you major headaches. A life-sized cut-out of him? Probably something he would do.

But, as you heard the shuffles move toward you and some weird quiet scuffing noises, it stops and you embrace for the surprise.

"Okay," he says slowly. "Open."

As you open one eye, you see Taehyung with a wide grin, but as you looked down to what he was holding, you covered your mouth with your hands in shock. "No, you did not."

"I did," he sings. "Aren't I the best roommate you could ever have?"

It was your pillow.

The pillow that you always had to sleep with in order to fight your sleepless nights. It was the pillow that you were to scared to call your father and ask to bring it due to your promise to him about being independent. The pillow that you didn't think you'd see for a while, until you visited him, but it was right in front of you, in a flesh.

"How'd you get this?" You ask.

"It's called 'calling your father and telling him to mail it'," he says with a cocky tone. "I don't know why you couldn't have just called him."

"I made a promise to him to not call him unless it was an emergency!" You frown as you see the amusement painted on his face. "I could only attend a college far away from home as long as I stay independent!"

"Being sleep-deprived is an emergency," Taehyung states as he shakes his head.

"Well, thank you," you smile. "This means a lot."

"You're welcome. I know you're not going to sleep so well without me—"

Eyes rolling, you smack his arm with your pillow and he dodges it while laughing. "I'm kidding— not really. But, I know that you're going to need the pillow someday. But if you ever need a sleeping buddy, I'm just across the hall."

You smile at him. "Thank you, Tae. Really."

"No worries— oh! Also," he says, digging into his back pocket to reveal something that has been folded 6 times. As he unfolds it, he clears his throats. "As we split ways I believe that it is my duty that I now pronounce that our contract has been officially... nullified."

And you laugh as he tears the written contract down in half.

"I question us sometimes," you admit and you both laugh into fits. As the laughter disseminates into the air and dies down, you only purse your lips together as you stare at each other. "So, what happens now?" And you know the hope in your eyes were painfully evident, but who were you kidding? You could tell they twinkled and glistened as you both stand there, but what on earth were you exactly hoping for? You weren't exactly sure and when the next words rolled off his tongue;

"So, I'll see you around?"

You felt that glistening twinkle of hope in your eyes dwindle and you were left to give a smile.

"Yeah, of course."

.

One night, you got drunk. Count on your new roommate, Joohyun, to get you drunk— in the most safest way possible, of course. However, you realized something in the midst of your nth glass of wine, that you needed to go to someone.

And there you were, Taehyung confused as to why a drunk __ was in front of his doorstep, a huge wave of emotions just washing over you as you were giggling when you felt tears prick your eyes.

"__?" He asks, running a hand through his bed hair.

"I'm sorry," you say, hiccuping. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"__? What are you— come inside."

As he pulls you inside, you feel your mouth release these endless string of words that even confused you. "I'm in love with you and I didn't realize it until I couldn't sleep at night even with my pillow because I realized you're one of the reasons why I can finally sleep well and that's because I feel safe when I'm beside you... and I need to know if you feel the same— if you still feel the same because even with my pillow, I can't feel safe without you and I—"

"Do you want to sleep in my bed for tonight? My roommate went to visit his grandmother for a few days," he finally cuts you off and your endless babbles while pushing you towards his room.  

"No," you meekly push him off, but you see that he was amused at your drunk state. "I need to know—"

"Can you just lie down?" He exasperatingly groans. "It's killing me that you woke me up and you're here and you reek of alcohol and you're apologizing for something you didn't do—"

"Then why— why..."

"Why, what?"

"Why did you say you were in love with me?" You quietly inquire before hiccuping again. "Then when I left, the most you've ever said was a 'hi' to me. Why did you say it? You obviously didn't mean it." And safe to say, you were starting to be fully aware of what you were saying and even though this whole confession and admitting something to the other is scaring the shit out of you, you cleared your throat. "Sorry, I just..."

"Why do you keep apologizing?" Taehyung grumbles and you stare at him. His hair was really messy that it made you giggle inside at the few strands sticking out and bangs all over the place. His pajama choice was a large t-shirt and some checkered pants that you familiarly recognized.

"Because I broke rule number 3," you decreed. "And I broke into our dorm— I mean... your dorm— and I don't know. I guess... I guess I'm sorry for hoping to get an answer from you that I don't even fucking know and I don't know what I'm expecting, but I'm here, sitting on your bed trying to make sense of my own words and I'm... I'm sorry."

He doesn't say anything and you feel yourself grow embarrassed, but as time progresses, you only heard a tired chuckle elicit his mouth. "Well, I broke rule number 3 first." Peeking up at him, you saw that he was wearing that cocky grin you both knew so well and it oddly comforted you. "I don't know what answer you want from me... but what I said to you about being in love with you— it still stays. And safe to say that I still am breaking rule 3, but we'll talk about it tomorrow when you're completely sober."

"Wait," you pause, eyebrow raising. "So... you're still in love with me?"

Taehyung laughs as he kneels down to take your shoes that you would always wear off and set them aside. "When did I—"

"Because if you are," you interrupt as you didn't realize that he was moving around the sheets around you so you could kicked your feet up onto the bed. "I don't mind."

In response, he chuckles and a part of him wishes that he recorded what drunk __ said, but he took the liberty of cherishing the moment of watching your drowsiness take over as you fall into a slumber. And dare he let himself bring his fingers to stroke your hair gently, allowing them to comb through your hair that still smelled like your shampoo.

And in that epoch of contentment, he felt himself smile slightly as he thought that seeing this view in front of him every night and every morning for the rest of his life didn't seem too bad.

that next year

"How did we manage to get the same room together again?" You ask in wonder as you grab your boxes from out of your car.

Taehyung stifles a laugh as he grabs one of your boxes that sat on top of other boxes, while you grabbed another box that you labeled as your desk materials, you smiling at him as he helps you with your stuff. "It's gotta be fate."

You laugh at his reply. "You did something, huh? Let me guess, you probably flirted your way with the RA. Maybe killed someone... no, I bet it's something bizarre... like secretly being the great nephew of the Dean bizarre."

You hear Taehyung laugh at your theories. "Sure, being the secret great nephew of the Dean will work." As you both reach the elevator, you both stand in the silence together until he breaks it first.

"Did you bring your pillow?" He questions and you look at him, a smile growing on your lips as the elevator opens.

Stepping out first, you laugh. "And if I did?" You say as you kick open your front door and set your boxes down into the living area. When you set it down, you were immediately swept off your feet as Taehyung grabs a hold of your waist, pulling you closer, making you squeal at his swift motions.

"Then I guess we don't need to renew our contract," he mutters, making you get goosebumps along your arms. Giggling, you raise your eyebrows at him.

"I guess we don't," you agree.

Taehyung smirks amidst the small proximity between you two. "Then I guess... we can break rule number 3 all we want."

[redsdesktop]

Deviant Dynamics: Revolution

Chapter 33

Masterlist

Warnings: What's better than this? Guys being dudes.

Notes: No RKbois in this chapter. Just Gav and Fiver.

"Put me down, asshole!"

Gavin shouted, but Fiver ignored him. The android had stopped counting how many times the human detective had ordered him to set him down. Why would Fiver release him anyways? Seemed irrational that Gavin would even bother insisting after Fiver had basically jumped out of a window and waded through the sewers with Gavin tossed over his shoulder as if the man weighed nothing at all. Gavin had, of course, tried to struggle but with one arm in a cast, he couldn't do much against the PC200's strength. Regardless of that fact, Gavin continued to squirm and kick and pound his fists on Fiver's back ineffectively. Like a child throwing a tantrum.

"We are almost to our destination, Detective Reed. Please remain still and I apologize for being unable to do as you requested." The android stated calmly as he walked down the dark and empty halls, his boots softly thumping against the floors that were covered in a thin layer of dust, a sign that no one had been in here for some time. Then again, the third floor basement was a little known secret of Cyberlife, a place where it kept its secrets from the public eye. Fiver paused at a set of double doors, lifting up his hand, he brushed the dust off the interface panel before placing his palm on it.

The security system tried to deny him access, but he'd been designed for this, to adapt his system quickly, decoding firewall after firewall until the security system was exposed. He shifted around the system's protocols, granting access to himself and the RK units who were likely to chase after him. There was no doubt about it, he knew what Kamski was planning, knew the android creator would nudge his favorite pawns to the correct direction. However, Cyberlife Tower was a large place and it would give Fiver some time alone with Gavin. As the doors slid open, Fiver stepped in to the room. One would expect something large and grand, but it appeared to be a small office.

It was still completely dark, Fiver's eyes glowing green with a gold ring around it, allowing him to see in the dark. He moved over to one of the sleek white couches pushed against one of the walls and gingerly he set the salty detective onto the cushions. Before Fiver could straighten back up into a stand, he received a blow from the face as Gavin slammed his good fist against Fiver's cheek, making his head jerk to the side. Fiver couldn't say he was surprised really as he slowly blinked and straightened up. "That was completely unnecessary, Detective Reed."

"You're right, I should've hit you fuckin' harder." Gavin growled out as he rubbed his now sore knuckled against the outside of his thigh, trying not to make a scene to let Fiver know the punch hurt him more than the android. Fiver's LED swirled yellow and the lights in the room faded gently into a soft glow, illuminating the sleek but curved design of the room. Gavin looked around in confusion, he hadn't been able to see where they'd been going since his front half had been draped over Fiver's back the entire time. "Where the fuck are we? And who the fuck are you? Why the fuck am I here? And also, fuck you."

"We are in Cyberlife Tower, the third floor basement, within the control room. To the public, I am known as model PC200 serial number 061-219-985, affectionately called Fiver. However, my true identity is model RT600 serial number 589-912-160, formally addressed as Chloe." Fiver moved away from Gavin to the desk, using the sleeve of his uniform to wipe the surface clean of dust, the touch alone activated the screen that was the surface of the desk. Gavin scrunched his face a moment, making his scar across his nose wrinkle, making it more obvious.

"Wait, you're one of Kamski's fuck dolls?" Gavin growled in irritation at just saying the name of his half brother.

Fiver, or Chloe, he preferred Fiver as it held more of a meaning to him. "If by that you mean one of Kamski's personal androids, then yes. However, he's never been intimate with me, if that's what you're asking." Fiver didn't look up from the screen on the desk, frowning slightly as his LED swirled yellow and then red. "I see." He mumbled under his breath before moving over to Gavin once more. The detective tensed, prepared to lash out again, but Fiver simply took a seat on the couch beside him, keeping a polite amount of space between them.

"Why are we here? Aren't you going to fuckin' try something?" Gavin bared his teeth in warning that the android better not try anything, he couldn't smell anything coming off the android, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"For various reasons. My primary objective to to destroy Amanda. However, Amanda will not allow me to access her system as she is still in partial control over me. Kamski wants to win in this game of chess. I simply wish to be free from both leashes." Fiver stared ahead, unconcerned with waiting or the restless detective beside him. "I won't harm you. Not again. I was... Out of control before and I wish to apologize to you."

"What do you... Wait, are you the fucker who bit me?" Gavin raised his hand, covering the bite mark on his neck, it was still fresh and ached like hell. "You son of a bitch!"

"It... It is not my fault." Fiver's LED flickered yellow as his brows furrowed, he still didn't look at Gavin. "Kamski instructed me to keep you safe and make sure you were taken care of. The longer I did so, the more demanding that command became." His LED went from yellow immediately to red but Fiver remained perfectly still as if afraid a single move and the metaphorical collar around his neck would tighten and choke him. "When Amanda started targeting omegas, I had to make sure you would be safe and I... I panicked."

Gavin was glaring at him now, sitting on the edge of the couch as he was about to stand up at any moment. If it hadn't been for his broken arm, he might've attacked by now. "I don't need anyone to fuckin' take care of me, especially him of all people! You broke my fuckin' arm too, and hit me in the face, don't think that's going to get a sorry out of me, plastic shithead." He lashed out with a leg, kicking the android's leg and ineffectively moving it just slightly.

"I admit I went too far. However, Amanda was forcing me to convert androids into alphas, they were meant to target Connor, but they were too difficult to handle and they started attacking any omega they came across." Fiver looked down, splaying his hands out, watching the skin deactivate to reveal white plating. He'd converted the first android, the janitor in the breakroom when he'd passed by after retrieving coffee for Gavin. The second android had bumped into him, he conveniently didn't record his hand touching the second android's arm. Going to the doughnut shop in the morning to get the station's doughnuts, he'd brushed hands with the android who worked there, touching hands with the delivery man when receiving mail from him. Every single one had been him. Or rather, when Amanda took over him, making his already very limited freedom, disappear.

Gavin scratched his cheek, fingers scraping along his five o'clock shadow as he took the time to process what happened. He wasn't happy about it, hell, if he was in better condition, he'd try to beat the shit out of the plastic prick. He narrowed his eyes, looking over at the android beside him, the face didn't look remorseful in the slightest, remaining neutral, like a machine. "Look, listen here, asshole. If you really do regret biting me, then get rid of your claim right now."

Fiver looked up, turning his head as his LED went solid red, his pupils shrinking to mere pinpricks in the sea of gold and emerald, making him look almost completely feral. Gavin went rigid at the sight along with the smell of cloves starting to sink into the air like someone was burning one of those candles that was simply labeled 'Christmas'. Gavin's own scent of stale cold coffee was leaving him, a sign that he was agitated and ready to defend himself against such a threatening scent. His lips curled, baring his teeth, Fiver already knew they were fake teeth. Replacement surgery to give him alpha teeth, with the medication he was on and for how long he'd been on it, it wasn't long before he would be completely alpha. Still though, the lingering scent of the omega he'd been born as was still there, just beneath the surface. It wouldn't be noticed by humans, but by androids, it would be and that's what put Gavin in danger.

"Fuck off with that shit." Gavin growled, making Fiver blink slowly and retreat a little, much to Gavin's surprise. He'd been certain the android was going to attack him. However, his words seemed to have some sort of adverse effect on the android as he turned his head and adverted his gaze in a strange show of submission. After such violent aggression previously, Gavin wasn't certain if he could trust such a strange reaction. The android appeared to be on a roller coaster of reactions, making Gavin feel like he had whiplash from all the sudden changes. "So why the hell did you bring me here? If you needed those three plastic assholes, why not tell them directly?"

"Kamski has put certain restraints on me. I cannot give away the plans that easily and ruin the complexity of this game. So, I had to get creative and use you as bait." Fiver admitted, staring at the door, waiting for the three androids to show up. "Once Amanda is gone, I will rescind my claim on you since you will be safe and my use will no longer be needed."

Gavin scowled, looking over at the platinum haired android who was everything he wasn't, perfect alabaster skin, sleek angles like some god turned mortal. Elijah really knew how to make a work of art, so disturbingly beautiful but not even that could hide the fact that the android was still that, an android. Though, after working alongside Connor, watching how they interacted. He couldn't help to begrudgingly appreciate how Connor still didn't push him away after all the shit he pulled. Collin was a little entertaining, not calm and cheerful like Connor and gave as good as he got when it came to insults. Conrad had been a bit threatening at first, but his cool attitude and air of command was something he could appreciate. Not like he'd really admit to such things. He didn't want to care about anything or anyone anymore, not after what happened, after losing everything he cared about in one fell swoop, he'd closed himself off.

"And what will happen to you when you no longer have a use?" Gavin asked, even though he was already aware. For some reason, he didn't know if he really wanted to hear it, to have his brother create life like this, only to toss it away. It why he and Elijah never got along anymore. Now Gavin was sitting here with an android he was supposed to hate, but knowing that the android would death sentence would be enacted as soon as the three plastic detectives arrived. It didn't sit all that well with Gavin and seeing the android just accept it without a fight only pissed him off more.

"I will be deactivated."

[ladygloucester]

A Common Enemy - The torture

Previously…

The thick leather soles produced a very distinctive sound. She had learned to discern his steps from the others that wandered near that door. But the moment he entered the corridor, the matt sound of his boots announced his presence even sooner than the lavender scent that impregnated the air around him. The first four or five nights—she had already lost count—he only sat on the small wooden stool that sufficed as the one piece furniture in the room. A cell, more than a room, even though it was in the wing of the garrison that contained the bedchambers for the officers. 

He sat there and looked at her, blank face, relaxed features. Claire had tried to talk to him the first time he visited her. She tried to explain, as much as she could, that she was sorry. Knowing him as she did, she realized submission was the only way to escape, if there was any, from a grimmer fate. But her words were met with silence, and when the second night she tried to initiate a new apologetic diatribe, she realized there was no chance, not a single chance of producing any kind of effect in that man. She was completely at his disposal.

So she yielded. Hours went by every day, pacing around the room, feeling the moistness of the stone under her feet, their rugged kiss. Seeing a little piece of the sky and watching the ever changing moon through the tiny cavity in the upper part of the wall was her only solace, and also the only way to distinguish between day and night. When the sun came down, also did Randall, as a gloomy shade that obscured every inch of hope.

Not that she had any left now. She had see him die.

No…

No. No, she had see him fall, that’s all. He wasn’t dead. He couldn't be. Jamie had flinched at the very last second, launching himself forward, and even a fine shooter as Jack Randall couldn’t hit a moving target with that dexterity. But he aimed well and hit. And Jamie had fallen. She still could hear the dull thud of his body against the blanket of leaves, his cinnamon curls almost black in the darkness. It had also taken a few days to realize that that annoying, penetrating sound that followed his fall was her screams. Agony screams that only receded when Randall’s gloved hand pushed hard against her mouth before throwing her up on his horse.

The only thread of sanity she clung to was the sight of his back. She could still close her eyes and see his back moving up and down, the same way it did when he was sound asleep. He couldn’t be dead, and she held to that thought as a rope in the middle of a tidal wave. Doubt came in the form of sudden images that crossed her mind and the very little sleep she was able to get. 

Jamie, pale faced, blood dripping from the corner of his lips. 

Jamie’s corpse in the middle of the forest, defiled by vermin and scavengers. 

Jamie’s chest pierced by a bullet, and her hands trying to stop the bleeding. 

But she clung to it. To him. To Jamie, alive.

That night started the same way as the others, the same calm steps announcing his entrance, the same noise of the stool legs scratching against the naked stone floor. The same sigh when he finally sat down. Hearing his voice, after he cleared his throat, startled her unexpectedly.

“I wasn’t the man I used to be, once. Before coming to Scotland. When you find yourself surrounded by the weak and the poor, something inside of you is born, something you didn’t know it was there.” Claire’s eyes were fixated on him, as the prey stares into the snake’s eyes. “I had been less than a year in Fort William as captain of dragoons. A dull responsibility. Petty thieves and minor robberies, that’s all I saw during months. But that day was different.”

Randall filled his lungs and let the air slowly leave them, so immersed in the memory Claire thought he was actually talking to himself.

“He had been taken prisoner for theft and received one hundred lashes for it. The corporal administered them less than a week before, in front of a proper audience. It’s an instructive way of showing the fool and the inmoral what lies ahead if they surrender to their lowest instincts, and it’s usually quite effective. But that boy, that redheaded highlander hadn’t screamed. Not one single cry. He had became a symbol of rebellion instead of submission. I realized that he needed further punishment, so I prepared to administer one hundred more. You see, flogging a person is not a pretty thing. Faints are usual among the crowd, and some people tend to look away. But this was different. You should have seen his back. The corporal had been thorough in his duties, and the mere touch of the shirt seemed to cause unfathomable pain. I know it, because when my men were locking his wrists to the scaffold, I sticked a finger inside one of the wounds. And I watched him squirm. His eyes were feverish, and he was warm to the touch, exuding that peculiar metallic smell blood has, almost solid in the mouth.”

He adjusted his position and continued his speech, not a single tremble or sign of sentiment in his voice.

“I wanted to pace myself. You see, one hundred lashes are quite an exercise, and he deserved my whole attention. I couldn’t falter. But seeing that beautiful piece of art made of blood, flesh and sweat spurred me in a way I have never felt before that day or ever again. So I flogged him. Every lash was a connection between us, between my craftsmanship and his canvas. A link that would never be dissolved and we’ll both carry along to our graves. But again— he didn’t cry. He didn’t scream, or beg for mercy. I tried to break him, to own him, but not a single tear was shed. The scaffold was slippery with his blood. He wasn’t even able to stand by himself, and with the final lashes, he just hung there, limp." He licked his lips, flushed by the memory. "I can honestly say, that back is the most beautiful, splendid thing I’ve ever done or seen in my life.”

In the silence that followed his last word, only Claire’s desperate sobs echoed against the stone walls. Her hands had crept to her ears, trying to block his voice out, but still it slithered into them, reaching her heart and her very soul, corrupting it in a way she had never thought she could feel. Utter, complete and irrevocable despair. She lost track of time, only her tears keeping her grounded to an unescapable reality. Even when she thought she could cry no more, her eyes would contradict her. Whenever she closed them, the perfect picture Randall had drawn with his words would appear and shake her very core. But when she thought she couldn’t handle another ounce of pain, his voice came through again.

“Tell me, did you get to see his back before I killed him? Did he tell you how he got the scars? Tell me you were able to touch them. To caress that magnificent work, to feel the roughness of its edges. Tell me how it felt to lay your fingertips on them and follow the pattern, that intricate design. Did you kiss them? Could you feel them with your lips? My dear, dear Claire. Please, tell me how it felt to see him fall. Did you smell it? The blood? Did you hear his rales? His last strength trying to hold to the world of the living and failing miserably? Tell me but, please, picture it first.” 

His voice got an excited edge, as he got closer, moving in circles around her, licking his lips as a malnourished child in front of a banquet. 

“Close your eyes and go back to that forest. To the taste of his mouth, to his musky scent, to the heat of his body. To his desire. And now, imagine all of that, gone. Nonexistent. Rotting in the middle of that forest for all the little scavengers to prey on. That fine body, reduced to a decomposing shadow of a man. Tell me, how does it feel?”

Claire screamed.

His eyes snapped open. Jamie could swear, once again, he had heard her scream. But it was impossible, reason settled back in as he laid his back against the feather mattress. He had tossed his blankets aside, his body temperature still high even for a furnace of a man like him. Closing his eyes back to sleep was a task he was daunted by. Before sleep would finally take him, Claire’s desperate pleas filled his ears and the taste of blood flooded his mouth. It was like falling again, shot, on the floor of that gloomy forest.

What happened after that bastard shot him was still a blur. His godfather Murtagh had found him near Castle Leoch, full of both dried and fresh blood and crawling with the last bit of strength he had. The next few days he had been in and out of consciousness, delirious when awake and trembling asleep. Dreams of Claire overrun his mind, the touch of her curls, the softness of her caress against his back, the firmness of her body under his, the form of her waist in his hands. Some times she appeared by the side of his bed and stroke his head lovingly, pushing aside the locks that had stuck to his forehead in sweat. Those dreams were the worse, because they inevitably ended. And the feel of loss, the utter emptiness in his soul left him breathless.

His fever had peaked two days before, and even Dougal had visited him. He remembered his tall figure and the rich cadence of his voice. Even the cold of his hand while feeling his burning skin. But death had decided to leave him alone, at least for now, and passed by while his fever broke. He was still weak as a kitten, but staying in bed wouldn’t change that. So he wrapped himself in a blanket and barefoot, clinging to the walls, decided to go right into Collum’s study. 

Before he could even reach the door, it got opened slowly and his godfather’s figure emerged from the shadows. Surprise, then scowling welcomed the scene, and Jamie knew his trip had ended before starting. Instead of going back to bed, he decided to sit in one of the chairs next to it, with a strained sigh. The bullet had passed right under his collar bone. His right arm still felt numb from time to time, but whenever he moved, the pain stabbed his shoulder and made him flinch.

Murtagh waited on the threshold until Jamie had accommodated himself before entering the room and closing the door behind him. Jamie was avoiding his gaze, but he sat on the bed and waited until he found the strength to look at him.

“I failed her—”

“Ye did no such thing, lad,” Murtagh said not allowing him to finish his sentence. His voice was soft, but firm. “She made a wale and stuck to it. If ye go and fall in Randall’s hands, her sacrifice will be for naething. She went to save us. To save ye.”

He felt the knot in his throat, and the warmth of the tears flowing in his eyes. Still, rebellion pulsated through his veins and ignited his soul.

“Aye, she did. She delivered herself to the claws of the Devil himself. And I let her. We are letting her. Who kens what she’s gaun through. Only to save a bunch o’ criminals from the fate they brought upon themselves, tell me how's that fair.” Silence fell between us, and Jamie wiped violently his tears away. “She’s promised to him.”

His usually cryptic godfather gave away his constant mask of slight irritation and an even darker look replaced it. Murtagh lowered his head and sighed, staring at his callous hands, resting on top of his thighs. He knew how the lad felt. He had seen him around the sassenach from the first day and recognized instantly the way he looked at her. More than a decade had passed since the last time Murtagh himself had looked a woman that way, and yet he completely understood how impossible it was for him to stay back and do nothing. He knew, right then, that if he didn’t go with Jamie, he would go on his own and get himself killed.

The older highlander inhaled deeply, and let the air out with a soft hiss.

“Aaricht, lad. We’ll go get her. But ready yersel. If she’s still alive, and ye hae to prepare for the warse, she’ll be different. Randall couldn’t break ye, but he only had a go at ye.”

Jamie nodded curtly and stood again, pacing slowly towards the window. The north winds blew against the frail crystal, shaking the wooden frame. The clouds moved fast in the dark skies, uncovering the stars and a full moon behind them before tucking them back to sleep.

Pale, thin and cold, the waning moon stared back at Claire. Her fingers reached out as if they were able to touch it, tracing the borders of the sphere with a trembling hand. The effort left her breathless, and her arm dismayed back on her lap. Randall had spent the last seven nights telling her the same story about Jamie’s flogging and demise. Asking her, once again, what it felt like to see him collapse and die. Forcing that memory down her throat into her inner self, wherever it was now, lost in the darkness and blindly wandering in a venomous swamp created by his words.

She wasn’t herself anymore. Whenever her fiancé left the room, Claire’s mind slipped away from herself, abandoning her as just an empty case of a body. The second night she thought there were no more tears in the world for her to cry, but still, every time Randall resumed his story, her eyes betrayed her again, and again. She tried screaming to cover the tale until her throat was raw and her voice disappeared. She punched her ears, hoping that the pain kept the sound at bay.

That night, after a week of that unbearable torture, when anger, anguish, pain and despair joined forces in the little piece of her heart that was left sane, she felt incapable of taking any more of his cruel depictions. When his steps resonated close enough to her, Claire launched herself against her captor and clawed her fingernails in the skin of his face.

Randall was able to subdue her in just a few seconds, grabbing her wrist with such a strength she thought he might break them. Weak as she was after days of not eating and barely drinking any water, Claire felt as a limp doll in his power. That was the first time he was using any kind of physical violence directly on her. No, his torture had been more subtle and yet more painful than a white iron burn. But then she realized he had been waiting for an excuse, for a response that would allow him to follow whatever sick plan he had conceived for her.

He tied his hands together with his belt, so tightly she felt the blood pulsating under the tie. Letting her slip to the floor, Randall stood up and left the room for what seemed an eternity. Claire’s senses had begun to evade her as they always did, unable to sustain any more pain, when he reappeared, snapping her back to reality. In one hand he carried a long, thin, flexible wood stick. With the other, he grabbed the belt and force her to stand up, hooking the bond that formed her wrists to the wall. With her back exposed to him, Randall paced around the room, delighting in anticipation and her fear.

The first lash elicited a piercing scream from her parched lips. Claire had buried deeply into his memories the feeling of the whip against the skin. Now, it burned, stung and hurt in a mix of sensations that turned her stomach. The second one came sooner than she expected, and she clenched her teeth hoping that she’d manage not to bite her own tongue. After the third, she lost count. For a while, the only sounds in the room was the slashing of the branch through the air, the content panting of her captor, and her cries.

“My dear, dear Claire. Finally, broken. I have to admit it. You’ve proven yourself stronger than many men I know. Damn, I think not even a single one of my soldiers would be able to restrain themselves as much as you have. I know you think you know me. You’d probably instructed yourself to stay submissive, to not respond directly at any of my… attentions. But, you see, you have failed.”

Randall closed the distance between them and stuck his body to her back side, not minding the blood that would stick to his clothes. The tender flesh protested under the touch, but trapped against the wall, there was no room left for her to relieve the pressure. His nose navigated through her hair, nuzzling her neck, before allowing the tip of his tongue to taste the mix of sweat and tears that covered the soft skin below her ear. His left hand explored her thin curves, wandering from her waist to her hip, pushing his crotch against her glutes and thrusting his fingers in her flesh.

“You see, Claire, this was precisely what I wanted to do to Jamie. I offered him a deal: surrendering himself to me, in exchange of eluding the flogging,” he whispered in her ear. “Did he tell you? Did he confessed how he thought about the possibility for a minute? Picturing us together, naked, his glorious body completely under muy power?” Slowly, Randall begun to unbutton the front of his breeks. The rod fell to the floor, as he started to raise her shift. “Can you imagine us? See it. See him laying on his chest, exposed…”

The pressure on her back suddenly disappeared, and a turmoil created where there was once a painful peace. The sound of metal hitting the floor, and then the unpleasant noise of bone breaking under the skin. A repeating thud, constant as the bells calling for the believers. Some words hissed in the middle of the uproar, some of the ininteligible, others more familiar. 

Bastard. Kill. Dead. Hell.

A pair of careful hands unhooking her wrists from the wall and helping her on the floor. A dash of red fabric and blue embroidery. Redcoats. But the faces were familiar, the thick beards, the long manes in disarray, the richness of the gaelic voices. Her eyes wondered from her savior to a mass of red curls that bent over a body, straddling him. Two fists covered in blood, four hands pulling from his arms backwards in order to stop him, succeeding only after much struggle. A pair of dashing blue eyes, light and clean as a summer sky, staring at her in disbelief. The feeling of a familiar body holding her tightly and raising her into the safety of his arms.

Then it all became a blur.

Next…

[glowysweetfab]

Rivals: Arena of Love

So this is for the rom com prompts that were posted by @richonnefics I picked Rivals. I am late posting it because of Stranger Things 2 but here it is. If you like or don’t like let me know below. :D Also s/o to all the Richonne peeps in the ATL at WSC!!!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chapter 1

“Michonne, I would like to commend you for dealing with Tyreese and his 48-hour marriage fiasco. Thank you for thinking on your toes and turning a protentional PR nightmare into a romantic fairy tale the press loves.” Everyone in the room applauded as Michael Hudson, president of Atlanta’s premier sports management agency, praised the woman sitting to his right. Michonne Harris beamed, taking in the moment as her colleagues smiled and congratulated her.

These moments are all I have ever worked for. Michonne thought to herself. Looking over at her tall handsome boss, who she secretly dubbed her mahogany Adonis. Specially to know, that the Michael Hudson respects my work and knows who I am. Even if it’s completely unprofessional for us to ever date at least he knows who I am.

Michonne smiled at Mike until she caught sight of the man seated next to him. Her smile promptly falls. Rick Grimes slowed clapped and looked bored, shooting her an insincere smile when he caught sight of her watching him.

Ugh. If only the spawn of Satan had called in sick today.

Rick Grimes started working at Hudson Sports Management at the same time as Michonne. Although Michonne had worked her way up from mail clerk to becoming a junior agent, Rick Grimes was the son of an NFL legend and not to mention the younger brother of current Falcon’s quarterback Jeffery Grimes. The Grimes name commanded respect in the sports world and opened doors, which, as far as Michonne was concerned Rick sauntered right through. Michonne kept her distaste for his nepotism thinly veiled and managed to undermine a few of his deals, signing clients right from under him. Rick was privy to her games from day one and retaliated in the same fashion.

“Yes, congratulations Michonne. If I ever get married, it’s nice to know you double as a wedding planner.” Rick said, referring to how she staged the scene to look romantic rather than the seedy affair it was. With a clap he stood from his sit, Michonne shot him a look of annoyance which made him smile. Glancing down at his phone, “I actually have some news of my own, just sent to me from my assistant, Jessie.” Rick paused. “I have just signed Abraham Ford away from Savior Sports Entertainment Group!” He announced, and the room erupted. Abraham Ford was currently the best baseball player in the league, this was a huge coup.

“Now this is the kind of status meeting I like to have!” Mike said, standing up patting Rick on the back. “We need to have a dinner with Abe tonight. Really welcome him to the Hudson family.”

“I will have Jessie make the arrangements.” Rick said, smiling at Mike.

“Well, if no one has any new business then we are adjourned for the day.” Mike said. “You all keep up the good work.”

Michonne seethed quietly as people walked up to Rick congratulating him. She sighed and stood up from her seat to collect her belongings. Mike walked up to her.

“Michonne, I would love it if you could drop by my office before you leave tonight.”

Michonne couldn’t help but perk up. “Of course.” She smiled. Anything for you, chocolate fox.

She watched him leave out of the conference room. Oh, wow, alone time with Mike in his office. Weeeee! Michonne’s smile widened as she turned from the conference table and bumped hard right smack into Rick Grimes. Her tablet and leatherette portfolio case nearly went flying out of her hands but Michonne held them tight in her grip as she wobbled on her heels. Rick’s hands grasped her upper arms, steadying her so she wouldn’t fall over.

“Jesus Christ, Grimes!”

“I am sorry, Michonne.”

She jerked out of his hold. “Why are you standing behind me?”

“I just wanted to congratulate you again on Tyreese. An athlete’s indiscretions can spell disaster for their career, but you prevented that from happening.”

“Save it Grimes.” Michonne said, pulling her purse on her shoulder. “My intel says he met Karen through you a few months ago. Correct me if I am wrong, but isn’t she one of the little trollops you have on retainer to entertain clients?”

Rick smiled, glancing at the floor before looking Michonne in the eyes. His blue eyes twinkling mischievously. Rick was a few feet taller than Michonne, with thick, wavy brown hair. Rick wore designer suits that he had custom tailored and it was quite clear he worked out. The bastard would be kinda cute if he wasn’t so smug. Michonne thought shifting on her feet waiting for an answer.

“I believe I did introduce them…”

“Exactly! Keep your gold-digging floozies away from my clients, Grimes.” Michonne said, moving to walk around Rick.

“If I remember correctly, I introduced you to Tyreese and his sister, the next thing I know he’s signing on to have you manage him.”

Michonne stopped in her tracks and turned to face him. “Rick, I think what’s most important is that Tyreese became a client with Hudson.” She smiled sweetly at Rick. “Like Mike says, we’re a family, we’re a team.”

Rick chuckled, scratching his nose. “Expect you’re the one pocketing 15% in commission.”

“Oh, I am sorry Rick. Is the son of legendary football player Robert K. Grimes, a multimillion dollar public figure all of his life, in need of more money?”

Rick’s jaw twitches angrily. “This is not about money-“

“Good.” Michonne said interrupting him. “Then you shouldn’t be upset that I signed Tyreese and you shouldn’t be trying to sabotage his public image.” She turned around to leave.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me on signing Abraham?”

Michonne turned around to look at Rick again. She had spent the past 6 months chasing leads that suggested Abe was ready to change management groups. She had been this close to securing a meeting with his longtime girlfriend, Rosita, who basically handled everything in his day to day life when Tyreese’s 48-hour marriage fiasco happened. Rick Grimes was certainly behind her missing the biggest get in her career and he was going to pay for it.

Michonne smiled at Rick. “Congratulations.” She turned around and walked out of the room. Michonne starred at her reflection in the mirror of her Fenty Beauty compact. After a long day spent on the phone with lawyers, lunching with perspective sponsors, and assuaging client fears that they would be cut from teams or that she would get them “phat contracts” she was exhausted. There was also the matter of getting Tyreese’s marriage annulled quietly while the press wrote it up as star-crossed lovers finding one another one magical night. Fucking Rick Grimes.

Only one thing sounded better to her than a glass of cabernet sauvignon and her comfy PJs, and that was spending time with Mike Hudson. Besides being incredibly sexy, he was a brilliant business man who rebuilt a floundering sports management agency into Hudson Sports Management, making it his own. Michonne was infatuated with him the first time she met him.  

She applied fresh lipstick to her plump lips and smiled at her buttery, smooth umber complexion. She smoothed down the edges of her hair, pushing her long dreadlocks off her shoulder, she pinned them back with a pearl hairclip. Michonne applied a light spritz of her Flowerbomb perfume by Viktor & Rolf and stood up to smooth down the fabric of her belted shift dress. Michonne took a deep breath.

“Okay. You can do this Michonne.” She said to herself. Smiling she exited her office and saw her assistant flipping through a magazine.

“Tara, I think everything is taken care of for tonight. You can head home.”

“You sure?” Tara asked, looking up from her magazine. “I thought you had a meeting with Mr. Hudson, he might give you some last-minute work.”

“That’s okay, Tara. I am sure whatever it is I can handle it.”

“Okay boss lady.” Tara said with a shrug, “I will see you mañana.”

Michonne waved good bye to Tara and headed to Mike’s office. She had to walk past Rick’s office as she made her way to Mike’s, his door was closed but she could hear the laughter of him and his assistant, Jessie. Michonne frowned thinking about how open his unprofessional behavior in the office was.

How can you judge when you want Mike to bend you over his desk?

Michonne smiled to herself as she made it to Mike’s door. She knocked and waited, inhaling.

“Come on in!” Mike called from behind the door. Normally his assistant would announce who was calling but he had sent her home just as Michonne had sent her assistant home.

Michonne pushed opened the door and entered Mike’s enormous office. His office windows had a gorgeous view of the Atlanta skyline and the city lights twinkled in the room as Mike worked by the light of a single lamp. Mike stood as Michonne entered, holding out his hand, gesturing toward the art deco chairs in front of his desk.

“Good evening, Michonne. I am so happy you had time for me.”

“Of course. I have to make time for the boss.” Michonne said, smiling at him as she descended into her seat.  

“For that I am grateful, you are of my best agents I know how difficult it is schedule time with you. I wish everyone had your work ethic, make my job so much easier.”

Michonne chuckled, as she crossed her legs. “I just really care about acquiring the best talent out there and representing them with everything I have.” She replied, taking in her handsome boss, stripped of his suit jacket, sleeves rolled up, and his tie sitting on his desk.

“You’re doing an amazing job of that.” Mike said, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t know where Hudson would be without you.”

“Are you serious?” Michonne asked, incredulously. “You are the reason I work so hard. Working for you drives me. I mean, because I see everything that you’ve accomplished, and I want to emulate that.” Michonne stopped talking. I am rambling.

Mike gave Michonne his signature megawatt smile that he used when wooing new clients or for having his picture taken at important dinner parties. The smile that made her heart go pitter patter. He stood and went to the front of his desk, perching himself on the edge. “You have no idea how much that pleases me. Michonne when I hired you, I knew that there was something special about you.” Mike leaned close to Michonne. “You’ve proven me right.” He said softly, looking deep into her eyes.

Michonne felt all the oxygen leave her body. She had never been this close to him before. God, he smells so good. His lips look so kissable. I just want to –

Knock, Knock

Mike sat up but remained perched on the edge of his desk. “Come in.”

To Michonne’s chagrin Rick Grimes entered the room. “I hope I am not interrupting anything.” Rick said as he made his way to the seat beside Michonne.

“No, not all.” Mike said. “We were waiting for you.”

We were?

“Good evening, Michonne.” Rick greeted her, an amused expression on his face. Michonne resisted the urge to roll her eyes but greeted Rick with a curt nod.

Rick smiled and turned his attention to Mike. “I have dinner reservations for 9:30 by the way.” He said.

“That’s great. My fiancée should be done beautifying herself before then.” Mike replied. Michonne felt her heart drop in her stomach.

“Fiancée?!”

Both men’s eyes fell on Michonne at her outburst.  “I am sorry.” She apologized quickly. “I just didn’t know you and Lori hadn’t gotten engaged. I don’t remember you mentioning it and I feel like I would have remembered.” Michonne explained. Mike and Lori had been dating for about a year and a half. They met at the annual office Christmas party and Michonne had noted how the tall, leggy brunette instantly captured Mike’s eye. Mike had a type, every man does, right? However, these women never lasted long. Mike worked long hours and always, always, always put Hudson first. Other women just couldn’t compete with his business.

Michonne always assumed that the only woman who could handle Mike and his schedule was her. The timing just wasn’t right for them and of course he was her boss. It was definitely unethical to date him now, but she wouldn’t be a lowly sports agent forever. One day, Mike would give her an executive position and they would work even closer together and he would fall madly in love with her. Michonne took a deep breath, that wasn’t going to happen now. Michonne knew just who to blame. Rick Grimes and Lori Collins had grown up together, dated briefly, but remained good friends. He brought her along to their company’s annual Christmas party and introduced Lori to their boss. The rest is history. Rick Grimes had gotten in her way…again.

“Well we got engaged a few weeks ago and I have been a little busy, but I plan to announce it soon to the rest of the office.” Mike said, gazing down at Michonne.

“Oh, well congratulations. I am so happy for you and Lori.” Michonne replied, forcing a smile on her face.

“Thank you.” Mike said, before turning his attention back to Rick. “You bringing a date tonight?”

“No, sir.” Rick replied. “Flying solo this evening.”

“Really?” Michonne asked, turning to look at Rick. “Jessie isn’t going? I could have sworn I heard you two laughing in your office on my way here.”

“Yea, well Jessie was showing me video of her son in his school play from yesterday. I have already let her go for the evening, so she could have dinner with her kids.”

“Oh.” Michonne said, quietly. Secretly disappointed that Rick had a reasonable explanation for hanging around his attractive assistant. Michonne had had enough. “So, boss what exactly is this meeting about?”

“I have a lead on two gifted athletes right here in Atlanta. They’re twin brothers, dominating in two different sports fields and they’re about to graduate high school.” Mike said. “These are the most talented up and coming athletes I have ever seen. They need to be at Hudson. They need Hudson.”

Michonne nodded. “I assume you’re talking about Heath -“

“And Noah Taylor.” Rick said, finishing Michonne’s sentence.

“I knew my top two agents would already be up to speed on this. Any leads?”

“Well Noah wants to go to college and playing tennis the way he does has earned him a scholarship to at least 6 different schools here in the ATL.” Michonne said.

“Health excels at basketball, wants to go pro and has no desire for college but like Noah got scholarships to his choice of schools. He must wait at least one year before he can be drafted; I think that year would be better spent playing ball in college.”

Mike nodded. “The only problem is these kids don’t have a mom and dad who can pay for representation they won’t return a profit for a long time and that’s ok because I know in the long run having them apart of Hudson is the best thing for them. The best thing for us.” Mike glanced at his watch. “We gotta get going soon.” He said to Rick standing and grabbing for his tie.

Rick nodded and stood. Michonne stood as well, still not understanding the point of this meeting, or why Rick Grimes had to be involved.

“So, you want either me or Rick to sign them?” She asked, watching as her boss fixed his tie, rolled down his sleeves, and put on his suit jacket.

“I want you and Rick to sign them.”

“What!?” Rick and Michonne said in unison.

Mike grabbed his briefcase and turned to look at his two bemused employees. “Look. You know we aren’t the only sports agency who wants them. I had to find a way to set us apart from the rest. These kids come from nothing, been poor all their life. Who better to introduce to the benefits of having a successful career than the son of Robert Grimes, give them a glimpse into that world.” Michonne could feel Rick shifting uncomfortably on his feet beside her as he exhaled.

“Michonne you’re level headed, smart, and you will make sure these kids always get the best deal for them.” Mike said, walking toward his office door. “They have no other parental figures in their life other than their grandma and their coaches. I want you both to become the mom and dad they always wanted but never had.” Mike opened the door to his office. “Do you two think you can handle that?”

Rick and Michonne glanced at each other before answering.

“Yes.”

“Great.” Mike smiled at them as he gestured toward the open door of his office. Rick and Michonne got the hint and headed out. After Mike locked up he turned to them both, “I look forward to hearing how everything goes with the Taylor twins.” To Rick he said. “I need to pick up Lori, so we will meet you at the restaurant?”

Rick nodded. “Yes, sir.” Mike bid Michonne a good night and moved toward the elevators. Michonne watched him walk away from her. She suddenly felt dizzy, tonight was too much, too fast. Mike who she’s pined over and lusted after for years is now suddenly engaged. Then to top it off he assigns her to work with a man she has loathed since he waltzed into the office like he owned the place.

Michonne walked past Rick, practically ran into her office, shutting herself inside. Leaning against the door she took as many calming breaths as she could. I will not cry at work. I will not cry at work. Her eyes burned as she refused to let the angry tears spill. Michonne blinked them away and walked to her desk. She fell into her comfy white office chair and turned to face the windows. Her view wasn’t as nice as Mike’s, it looked inside another office building but Michonne still enjoyed it. Most of their staff was gone for the evening and a single janitor moved about vacuuming the floor, dancing to whatever music he was listening to from the CD player on his cleaning cart.

“Michonne.”

Michonne startled in her chair and spun around to face Rick Grimes, who was staring down at her as he stood over her desk.

“Jesus Christ, Grimes! Don’t you knock or was all that money growing up not used to teach you manners?!”

Rick glared at her angrily but Michonne was prepared for whatever little quip he was going to throw at her. This was impossible there was no way on planet earth they could ever work together. Mike must have lost his damn mind. How could he –

“I am sorry.” Rick said closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath. Michonne looks at him in confusion. Where is the snappy comeback? “May I sit, please?” He asks her. Michonne gestures toward one of the seats in front of her desk. Rick seats down and runs his fingers through the stubby hair beginning to grow on his face, looking off into nothing. Michonne just watches him as he appears to be gathering his composure.

Finally, Rick looks at her, his blue eyes boring into her dark brown ones. “We need to call a cease fire.” He finally says, softly. “I did try to sabotage Tyreese’s image by having Karen seduce him. I was pissed you stole him from me. I worked tirelessly with the Williams family for months only to have you steal him away.”

Michonne just looked at Rick. He wasn’t lying. Rick put in a great deal of work with Tyreese and his sister, someone the athlete trusted more than anyone, but in the end Michonne found a way to bond with Sasha subsequently convincing her to end their working relationship with Rick, not to mention wasting all the time Rick had spent wooing them.

“I think considering you used Tyreese’s situation as a distraction to take Abe Ford away from me then we’re even.”

“That was dumb luck. I overheard Jessie and Tara talking one day, she mentioned booking a lunch at a restaurant that Rosita loves, and I just put two and two together.” Rick said with a shrug.  

Dirty bastard

“Look,” Rick said, sitting up running his hand through his thick curls. “We need to put all this shit in the past if we’re going to sign the Taylor twins. I can’t work with you if I think you’re gunning for my clients.”

Michonne smirked at Rick. “I scare you that much, Grimes?”

“Yes.” Rick says simply. Michonne’s jaw drops. “Look, you know how talented you are. Mike knows it. I know it. I have always known it. Mike is right about us teaming up on this one. I just need to know I can trust you.”

What exactly is this man playing at? Does he take me for a fool? Get me nice and comfortable, then snatch the twins and my other clients from me. Michonne looks at Rick and is prepared to tell him where to go but the forlorn look on his face gives her pause. She takes a deep breath.

“Fine. A cease fire, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be watching you.”

“Michonne, we have to trust each other for this to work.” Rick sighs, glancing at his watch.

“Trust. Like respect, is something you earn. For the time being, while we make contact with the Taylor twins we will have a cease fire. That’s the best I can promise you.” Michonne said, crossing her arms.

Rick sighed again, running his hand through his thick, wavy brown hair. “Fuck.” He mutters, under his breath. “Fine.” Rick stands holding his hand out to Michonne. “Deal?”

Michonne eyes his hand wearily before reaching out and grasping it in her own. His hand grasps her firmly.

“Deal.”

[bloggerjoedoe]

I’ve been on a book reading binge this year like never before. That’s partly owing to the pandemic, I’m sure, but it’s also tied to reduced time spent reading articles and social media. In a normal year I read about a dozen books, and this year I’m on pace for five times that. As a result, it’s no surprise that one of my favorite app debuts of the year has been Book Track, from developer Simone Montalto.

Book Track launched at the beginning of the year as a promising 1.0, then followed with a big update mid-year that addressed my initial problems with the app and expanded its functionality in key ways. That update was a great setup for the launch of today’s version 2.0, which introduces support for some of the top features of iOS 14 and iPadOS 14: widgets and a new sidebar design. By getting the low-hanging fruit out of the way in previous updates, Montalto was able to keep Book Track current with all the latest OS technologies right from launch day. Not stopping there, however, he’s thrown in support for Shortcuts (the app) and keyboard shortcuts in today’s update too.

Widgets

Book Track’s widget offerings.

Book Track includes two types of widgets on iOS and iPadOS 14: Reading Progress and Quotes. The former is available in small and medium sizes, while the latter is medium-only.

The Reading Progress widget shows you how close you are to finishing the title you’re currently reading. New in today’s update, Book Track now lets you track your reading progress in a book by entering the last page you read. The widget, then, will show you how far along you are by displaying that last page read, as well as the total pages in the book, and a visual representation of your progress plus the book’s title, author, and cover art. I’m usually reading 10+ books at a time, so tracking progress for a single book isn’t as appealing to me personally, but for users who tend to focus on a single title while reading, seeing progress on their Home screen could be a great reminder to read more often.

The Quotes widget better suits my needs, integrating with the quotes you save for a given book. Every book in your Library can have quotes added to it as you read, and with this widget you can have Book Track randomly surface different quotes from the title you configure. Similar to Apple’s Photos widget, it’s nice being surprised throughout the day with an updated widget that sparks joy, or in this case may prove inspirational.

Sidebar Design

The new iPad sidebar exposes valuable menus and options.

One of the primary advantages of Apple’s Mac Catalyst technology, which first launched last year, is that it not only enables developers to bring their iPad apps to the Mac, it’s also likely to make those iPad apps more Mac-like in the process. Sidebars are a perfect example of this two-way effect. macOS Big Sur introduces a fresh design for sidebars on the Mac, but before its arrival later this fall, iPadOS 14 is today pushing iPad apps to adopt sidebars rather than the traditional tab bar approach. Developers who use Mac Catalyst can support both changes at once with minimal additional effort, and that’s exactly what’s been done in Book Track.

On the iPad, the previous iPhone-like tab bar has been replaced by a sidebar that offers significantly more utility. All of the former tabs now live at the top of the sidebar, but they’re joined by three new sections which can be collapsed or expanded per your preferences: Reading Status, Tags, and Series. These additions make it much easier than before to access your To Read, Reading, or Read lists, or to filter your library by a tag or series. All of these controls were previously available in the app, but you had to jump through one or more different menus to get to them. Now they’re available right where they should be: in plain view.

Shortcuts

Building shortcuts for Book Track.

Not content with supporting the latest features of this fall’s OS releases, developer Montalto has also brought Shortcuts support to Book Track 2.0. There are five different actions you’ll find in the Shortcuts app:

Add New Quote

Book Selection

Get All Books

Modify Book Details

Update Book Progress

The first and last of these are the ones I want to highlight. One is better suited for readers of ebooks, while the other is ideal for paper book fans.

Of these groups, I’m 100% an ebook person. The only time I’ll buy a paper book is when a title simply doesn’t exist digitally. So for me, the Add New Quote action is ideal. My normal practice while reading is to highlight noteworthy quotes, but also save those quotes to a separate note in Apple Notes where all quotes from that book are compiled. Book Track’s quote feature has made me reconsider that practice, however. Each book in your Book Track Library can have quotes saved to it in a dedicated section of the title’s detail view. With the new shortcut, saving quotes to that detail view is easier than ever.

I’ve created a simple, one-action shortcut that grabs the contents of my clipboard and saves it to a book of my choosing under the quote field. Now, when I come across a quote I want to save while reading, I just copy it to my clipboard, run the Add New Quote shortcut, and the excerpt is saved as a new quote entry to that title in Book Track. It’s a smooth process that does what automation does best: speed up a frequent, repetitive process. The only thing that would make things faster is if Apple Books supported running shortcuts via the share sheet when text is selected, so I could skip the clipboard step, but unfortunately the app entirely disables share sheet shortcuts.

The second action I want to highlight, Update Book Progress, almost makes me wish I was into paper books. Since titles in Book Track are imported from Google Books’ database and include page count, the app knows how many total pages a book has already, so it can easily calculate your reading progress. And with an Update Book Progress shortcut, you can quickly enter the last page you read of a given book and instantly have its progress updated in Book Track. Here’s a video showing how simple it is.

Today I’ve played with Shortcuts. There are a lot of improvements with iOS 14! pic.twitter.com/nLbufwaP9T

— Simone Montalto (@SimoneMontalto) August 12, 2020

The reason this works great for paper books but not digital ones is that digital books usually don’t follow the page numbers of their analog equivalents. Sometimes they do, but it’s extremely hit or miss. I wish Apple and Amazon would make a greater effort to address this issue, which is especially problematic in the context of groups like book clubs, but I’m not holding my breath for that to happen. As a result, Update Book Progress is a great shortcut for paper books, but with most digital books the page number you see won’t line up with Book Track’s total page count for a title, making the shortcut – and the whole reading progress system – far less useful. If you’d like, however, you can always manually modify the total page count of a title to match what you’re seeing in your ebook app of choice, then track progress using ebook page numbers instead. It just requires one extra step per book.

Keyboard Shortcuts

Rounding out version 2.0 is the addition of keyboard shortcuts. You can’t navigate the app’s UI at all via a keyboard, but there are still a handful of nice shortcuts for doing things like initiating a search of either your Library or an online search, dismissing overlays, adding a new book, or opening settings. I’ve found that search shortcuts have been my most commonly used because they don’t immediately require tapping or clicking to interact with app UI elements, unlike most of the other shortcuts available.

Book Track continues to distinguish itself as one of the most native and modern app experiences for book lovers. Its widgets and new iPad design show off some of the hallmark features of iOS and iPadOS 14, and the new Shortcuts actions brings valuable utility in speeding up common actions in the app. This app has come a long way in the span of just a few months, and I’m excited to see where the future takes it.

Book Track 2 is now available on the App Store.

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[po1ypear1]

take it all as it comes. seize the oportunities. listen to your inner voice, and if you don’t hear it, ask.  

Always: Be greatful for the happiness feelings you feel every single day.

Recognize when the right opportunity is before you and say yes. But if you dont, know the boat will come again, and know your reason for missing it.

Plans and day dreams are nice, but let them be free. Watch out for getting too attatched. We prefer general headings.

Remember watching, “How To Be Single” and feeling like this was your time to enjoy being single while in this stage of self descovery. To remember learning how to date, how to talk to people, and how to hold onto your own identify.

Find and Do No Matter Where You Are:

Play with improv people. join a theater group

Take singing lessons. join a choior

Keep making your moon calanders! Study Astrology.

Pole Play Classes. Dance classes

underground bush doof crew

Everything written here has placed a call to me, and is currently waiting, patiently on hold.

Make movies. Research bus channels. Consider yours.

Act/Perform. Read poetry, stories and speaches to people from mobile sets in character.

Sail home for Christmas

Once Home: Set Some Shit Straight:

Impact Invest! Talk to one of those guys who makes your money make money. 

Sort out your taxes, health care, and province of residing. Get GST number for a small, legit paper trail and to justify the cerb minimum income requirements.

Lazer hair removal.  

Time to Get Your Self Some Nice Things: Good quality solar powered phone charging water proof blue tooth multi speaker linkons portable speaker. 

Books: Anatomy for the artist.  A massive “learn to read the stars” astrology book, total “yoga poses” reference guide.  

go shoping and record the items, review and return later. see how they look through the camera’s eye. find the neck lines you like. thin straps. Try less reveiling necklines, they are destracting, people will look, listen and be enchancted by everything else

.Ask grandma and grandpa a hundred questions.

Watch tissue movies with mom.

Visit Royal Pizza

Organize family activities, skating, toboganing, holrac park. Snowboarding trip?  

Propose bio mobile bus/prototype build to dad  

Have a Dance in Golden and visit kyle…  

First summer with the bio-biel. Climb mountains. Serve A Vapassana.  Learn Gin Shin Do from a master. Visit the landing.

Do you still wanna train hop? this is probably a better sooner then later activity.  

Winter town! Seasonal job. Collect thousands of dollars for passing go.

My Karman Line: Learn about starting a business. Event Organizer/Project Manager. Online Careers. How to become a home care assistant.

Stationary Routine breads clarity and focus. New Places are exciting, stimulating, inspiring, and distracting.

Biofuel Home Bus:

MIDNIGHT IDEA* bus so I dont have to pay rent while going to school/studying to get the job that will allow me to work and live around the world. hense vegabonding after bussing. No roommates, no rent, no part time job money worries, small space, less mess, fewer distractions. I can work part time if I want to, not cause I have to. I can be close to school, no comute, close to my kichen, less money spent eating out. I feel the time for study is getting closer.

I like the idea of bus before boat, cause when I get land the bus is home base while I build. Then the bus is safely left on the property. The boat is a little less safe left in the water.

You’d think I would vegabond before biofuel, but i just got a craving…. then I got an incling, “maybe these arnt one time phases.” cause now i got another thought, I'm back to the vegabond route, but a more "stay-awhilebond" feelin. Like hop into communities with the intensión of staying a while, maybe better with this new "normal" places might want you to quarentine. But, boat life, Bus life, House life, Back-pack life. and they keep heluxing round and round. And there’s always new hobbies, interests, self discoveries and purposes. With constant sweet notes of good food, friendship, discovery. And never ending curiosity.

MIDNIGHT VISION: 1 am, drinkin water by the gallon…. a song comes on. I can’t hold it in. The bus bursts open and I pour my heart out down the empty street. Pirouette’s under street lamp spot lights, broken hearts to car hoods. Coming to an hour latter, looking around, ‘where am I?´ Time to choose a walking home song. A small space will be good for me. Forces me to get outta the house.

There’s no correct order, or direct timeline. Remove the 5 hinderances, and listen to what the moon says is best for you right now. Sailing also sounds better with a crew, thanks to Swell, by Liz Clark.

short cut dotted out with Kyle Button: sail the ports and archipelagos, appartment hop the interiors, build in Canada or the perfect place once it’s found.  

Recycle Sailing Fleet. Bee Bike Troup. The little book of Aquireing Knowledge series. 

Vegabond. Live, Work and Study in so many other countries.You can do this after 35 aswell. You can find amazing work oportunities that don’t require the permit, that will sponsor a permit, that wants to marry you. Or you’ll fit into the specialist or exeption section. You’re not necessarily looking for a typical, need a working vissa job anyway. Plus, some countries might not have this restriction, you never looked for your self.

We were talking with Josie the other day and we got on to the different types of lives on the security-adventure scale. For argument sake, we named 4 main ones. The people who never leave the towns they grew up in, the ones who do but settle some where, the ones who move every so often, keeping it fresh and the ones who never stop, who, say live out of a back-pack or travel the world on a bike, throwing them selves into the unknown. When she spoke of these people, my heart fluttered…..  

House sit, wwooff, work-away when the world alows open travel again. And maybe Do it by bike? As few planes as possible. LIVE in the cities of the world, get to know them, be a part of them. Know the public places, the baker on the courner, where the oldest trees and stairs are.

Entreprenuer. Have your own business. Work for your self. See one note Starters.

Homestead. Own Property out right. I will pay for everything up-front, all the money I save on interest by waiting will be trippled by keeping the money invested till there is more then enough for the propert, land and home development. Enough will be left over, and remain invested, to continue growing at a steady, live a comfortable life and travel as I wish, take what ever courses i wish rate.

Raise your kids here, with stability providing safety. Routine creating tradition that will be imprinted in them for ever, every pumpkin pie will make them feel their childhood in fall, and the excitment of starting school again. Let them grow conected to nature and their food. Atleast till 7. Then ask them what they want to do? wanna go to school in the city? wanna live in a bus and travel across the continent? Wanna live in a boat and sail around the world? Please learn another language, spanish is easy and lots of places different to us. 

Maybe kids raised in a bus or on a boat might could also be a good thing. After rocking Nera to sleep, for only less then an hour, it occured to me, a rocking boat or moving bus would be great right now.

Sail around the world with an electric assist bike and a survival libraray

Return to the nice place, with enough acres for privacy, gardens, animals, out door hot tubs, a green house, all within a food forest and be within walking distance of neighbours and a satisfying community hub. Some people watching spots and art events can be a comfortable scooter ride away. maybe this is the same place as the homestead. Maybe my parents are with my by this point.  

Bio Bus. I’ve been in the office 6 months now, and im starting to want a change. Change just might be my nature. So maybe it’s back to the bus. This time with Gatto, Pero, Pollo, bicicleta and creator machines. Traversing the continent selling soaps, teas, hot snacks wrapped in bees wax at ski hills, soaking potions, spa days at tree planter camps and tickets to movie nights.    

BLUE PRINTS:

Movement Space: soft matt 5x5, to emcompass my whole body’s reach in every angle. hand holds ancored into the floor for traction. ropes hanging from the roof for balance, suport. golf and tenis balls for massage.

Kitchen Hacks: design cooking area to be re-panted every few years cause it gets so dam dirty and change is a must. window sills for herbs to grow. sinks with water spouts that fill in the middle and swivel. counters with an over hang so you can sit. lots of different lighting options. Wooden counter top, i hate the sound of everything clanging on marble 

Ideal Community: lots of greenery, big old trees, bike and walk friendly, inviting public spaces, big enough that I want to go out and be apart of it, that i have places and people to visit and watch. A place with seasons. I don´t want to be hot and itchy all year round. A place where people steward the land, and shape it with Peter Pan’s elegant hands. No generic, shitty, fast food joints, only healthy artisian. Beautiful works of arcitecture harmanizing our day to day with nature. No junk advertisments.