#Adam doesn’t even have to flop that hard it will still work if he’s silver

[rondocapri]

So if Adam flops a little bit and mikhail wins and shun stays on the podium we can keep grassl from the final

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Lionheart

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Fem Reader

Request: “i can’t breathe” with cordelia?? “

A/N: so this prompt screamed ‘panic attack’ but GUESS WHAT?? I cannot write about panic attacks without having one myself so bear with me. This story was inspired by the scene in Apocalypse when Cordelia tells Michael she’s ready to help him if he’ll let her. Thank you anon for the request, and have a good time reading. x

Word count: ~ 5 500

Warnings: panic, anxiety, more or less accidental attempt at murder (idk what to call it)

You opened the door to the little antique shop and walked in with a happy spring in your step. The place was dimly lit and smelt of nag shampa. All kinds of objects were displayed on shelves nailed to the walls. In the middle of the room, more objects – colourful candles, statues carved in rosewood or kingwood or stone, dusty porcelain plates with a rim of gold – were randomly piled on top of each other or on small tables.

The shop had opened a few days ago and its window had drawn your eye. You were on your way back to Robichaux’s, where you had lived for the past five years. Life at the Academy was blissful. You had found yourself, finally embracing your being a witch; and then a few months later you had found love, and with it a new kind of happiness. Contentment you had read about in books but never thought could happen to you. Love had ripped fear and hatred off the world and painted it in softer colours: pink, yellow, brown, colours that reminded you of Cordelia. The constant weight in your heart had changed: it did not drag you down anymore, but supported you. It was not fear and loneliness you carried, but warmth and curiosity.

In the shop the woman behind the counter was scrutinizing you with attention. Her eyes were a deep, dark blue that reminded you of ocean depths. She wore a beautiful, intricate brooch in the form of a tree with the words ‘Anna Morgana’ – her name, probably – engraved on the trunk. A single red rose drooped in a vase on the counter in front of her.

You did not notice the strange look – half fear, half anger – that flashed on her face as you walked up to her.

���I know you”, the woman said as a greeting. “You’re one of the girls from Robichaux’s Academy.”

You beamed at her.

“I’m here to buy a gift for my Supreme,” you informed her happily.

Here it was again, that strange look, and this time you did notice it, but you didn’t think anything of it. The mention of witches – especially powerful ones – still made most people uncomfortable.

“Birthday?” the woman asked.

For a second you considered lying. Cordelia was adamant that you tell no one about your relationship, for she didn’t want the girls at the Academy to think she favoured you over them. But it wasn’t exactly a secret. Cordelia’s face had always been open, and you weren’t particularly good at hiding the joy that spread over your own every time your eyes met hers, every time someone mentioned her, every time the thought of her crossed your mind. Anyone who had spent more than five minutes with you and Cordelia knew you were in love. Most people were too polite to tell either of you how bad you were at hiding your feelings – except Madison, who seemed to think there was no greater joy in the world than to criticize “Foxxy” in front of you so that she could laugh at whatever new insult your “poor unimaginative brain” would come up with. But you didn’t mind Madison. She was a friend – an extremely annoying, unreliable friend, but a friend still. Movie nights with her were the best.

“Random act of kindness,” you told the woman, trying to keep your voice as neutral as possible. “She works so hard for us,” you couldn’t help but add.

The woman curled up her lips and ran one hand through her dark, thick, curly hair. The bracelets that hang off her wrist jingled.

“Well, I could let you look around, but it would take hours. And I think I’ve got just the thing you need. Simple, but beautiful. Not too showy, elegant.”

She went through one of her drawers and drew out a small rectangular box. It contained a necklace – a thin silver chain, a curved bail, a round-shaped moonstone with a blue sheen in the middle. Your heart jumped at the sight. It was perfect for Cordelia.

“And look here!” the woman went on, her voice rising almost to a squeal. You were so lost in thoughts of Cordelia and how beautiful that necklace would look on her, that you did not notice the sudden shaking of the woman’s hands as she drew out another box. “I’ve got another one, exactly the same! So you can match.”

“I’ll take them both,” you beamed.

The woman looked incredibly nervous. She gave you a tight smile as you fumbled in your bag for your wallet.

“I like it,” you said, nodding to the rose in an attempt to help her relax. “Very Beauty and the Beast.”

You paid for the necklaces, then clasped one of them around your neck and stared at your reflection in a small mirror perched on top of a pile. Your fingers gingerly touched the stone. You flashed a grin at your reflection, then sang out “Goodbye!” to the woman. She didn’t say it back.

It was a beautiful spring day, the sun splayed out low in the sky, the air crisp, the branches of the trees overloaded with blooming flowers, but you didn’t linger. Your heart and mind were filled with Cordelia. She had been more tired than usual those past few days, what with the arrival of half a dozen new girls who were very young and very scared of their powers. And she had been bugged by a “weird, tingling feeling”, as she had confided to you two days ago, late in the evening, her head resting on your lap and your hand running through her hair: “I think a new witch might be in town. And I think she doesn’t know who she is. I can feel her confusion, her fear.” You had dropped a kiss on her forehead, offered to run her a bath, but she had let out a tired groan and sat up, rubbing her eyes as if she had a headache, and said she still had paperwork to go through.

It worried you, sometimes, how hard she worked. Too many nights you had had to drag her out of her office and tuck her in and kiss her until her faint protests had turned into sleepy giggles. You and Zoe and Queenie had offered, multiple times, to take over some of her classes, and she had relented after several refusals. As it had turned out, you were quite possibly one of the worst teachers on the planet. Cordelia had attended your first class, wanting to make sure she was not entrusting her girls to an incompetent fool – for the rest of that day you had been unable to meet her eyes, your face red with shame. When in the evening she had finally managed to corner you in an empty room she had burst into uncontrollable laughter, peppering your face with kisses, pausing to try and whisper an apology when she noticed the outraged look on your face. The word “sorry” did not make it out past the first syllable before she was doubled up with laughter, tears running down her flushed cheeks. So it had been decided that you should help Cordelia with daily matters and paperwork, and let Queenie and Zoe do the teaching.

The Academy was very quiet when you reached it, as most of the classes weren’t over yet. You did some cleaning in the kitchen, made yourself some tea, then decided to take a nap. There was approximately thirty minutes left before classes would end and Cordelia would take her usual evening break before dinner.

You ran up the stairs to your room, changed into more comfortable clothes, tip-toed to Cordelia’s room to steal one of her pillows, tip-toed back to your own room, and collapsed on your bed. Your fingers played with the chain of your new necklace, a goofy smile spreading over your face as you thought about the moment you would offer Cordelia her gift. Surely matching necklaces would not be too obvious. Friends did things like that all the time. You were sure to be teased by Madison, though. You lay on your right side, clutching Cordelia’s pillow against your chest and burying your face in it, and closed your eyes. You were not feeling particularly tired, but sleep soon overtook you.

You woke up a few minutes later with a jolt. Your heart was pounding in your ears and your chest was incredibly tight. You remembered when you were in junior high and a brute who kept bullying you because you were “too weird” had unceremoniously thrown you to the ground and decided it would be fun to sit on your chest. The boy was twice your size. He had laid both his hands on your shoulders, pressing your back into the cement, breathed in your face and flashed a cruel smile at you as he shifted his weigh to crush you. “I can’t breathe,” you had managed to get out, your hands coming up to smack weakly at his arms, “get off, I can’t –“

Now the feeling was exactly the same. There was a heavy weight pressing down on your chest as if a demon were sitting on it.

You abruptly sat up, panic shooting through your veins. Instinctively you reached out for Cordelia, for warmth and protection – your hand landed on the cold sheet.

You managed to hiss in a breath, desperately patting the mattress, your other hand coming up to press against your chest. Your arms were shaking. And the sitting position didn’t help. Your chest still felt like it was being crushed.

You threw back the cover, made to stand up, fell back on the bed as the room around you started to spin. Your ears were ringing and you could hear terrifying noises like that of a monster’s rough, raspy breathing in horror movies – your breathing, you realized in terror.

You had to get up. You had to get up and call for help before – on shaky legs you stumbled out of your room and into the empty corridor, leaning against the wall for support, and croaked out: “Delia,” but it was too weak, too low, the words flopped at your feet. The corridor was spinning so fast you could no longer tell where the ceiling was. Cold sweat coated your skin as you took a few steps forward, calling again, “Delia,” a pitiful sound, barely above a whisper.

Your gaze fell on the railing of the stairs. So close, just a few more steps – so far away, too far away.

You wheezed out a breath, tried to inhale. There was no air left in the corridor. Your hand closed around the collar of your shirt. You tried to call out, tripped on nothing, and passed out.  

**

The first think you noticed when you came to was a hum of worried voices. Your head hurt too much for you to even consider opening your eyes. So you focused on the voices, tried to separate one from the others.  

“Step back, Millie, step back! Girls, give her some space!”

This voice was too panicky for your liking. It made your heart speed up. But there was something familiar about this voice, something comforting, so when it faded back among the others you groaned, straining to focus on it again.

“Ooh shit, she’s alive,” said another voice, young and jaded.

“Y/N?” The panicked voice again, louder, clearer. Something hot on your face. You let out another groan. “Y/N, can you hear me? Open your eyes for me.”

Now, that you would not do. You were pretty sure if you let the light in your skull would crack.

“Y/N, please.” The voice broke, and something in your heart broke with it. “Please, please sweetheart, come back to me.”

The thing in your heart that had broken kicked and ordered you to obey. There was no way, your heart screamed, no way you would lie here and do nothing to comfort her when she sounded that terrified.

Your eyes fluttered open. A blurry shape was leaning over you, golden on the edges, with two dark spots in the middle.

“Hey,” the voice called shakily, “that’s it, that’s it, you’re doing so good, look at me. Look at me.”

“Delia.” Her name escaped your lips before you had time to think it.

She was very pale, and her face was wet with tears, but she let out a relieved laugh when your eyes met hers.

“Delia,” you repeated, frowning in confusion as you took her state in.

You were lying on your back in the middle of a corridor, surrounded by a group of students. You spotted Madison, leaning against the wall next to Cordelia, staring down at you with interest and just a hint of amusement. “What…”

Your face crumpled as memories flooded you. Your right hand flew up to your chest and you gasped in a breath, fear rushing up to clench at your heart.

Cordelia cupped your face, stroking her thumbs over your cheeks.

“Shh, shh, you’re alright,” she whispered as more tears rolled down her own cheeks.

You bit your lip on a sob, raised your hand to wipe away her tears. Cordelia chuckled and kissed your palm.

“What happened?” you hiccupped between two sobs.

Madison held out something in front of her. Your heart skipped a beat.

“The necklace,” you stammered. “Oh my God, the – Delia I was about to –“

Cordelia shushed you again, leaning forward as if to kiss you before she checked herself. Madison rolled her eyes.

“Please, we’re not stupid, or blind,” Madison said, but you spoke over her, your breath coming out too fast as panic threatened to overwhelm you again: “Delia I was about to offer you the same necklace I was about – “

“Hey hey hey, Y/N, it’s alright, love, it’s alright.” Cordelia slipped one arm around your waist and pulled you up to her. You buried your face in her neck, breathing her in, letting her familiar scent and warmth wrap around you like a blanket. She gently ran her fingers through your hair, supporting you with her other arm.  

“How did you find me?” you whispered into her chest.

“I heard you,” she answered, her voice barely louder than yours. “I heard you calling in my head.”

You closed your eyes, confused, angry, and most of all afraid. Afraid of what would have happened if Cordelia had not rushed to you. Afraid of what would have happened if you had offered her the necklace and she had – you wrapped your arms around her, holding her tight, planting a kiss on her chest as you gulped back tears. You were trembling in her arms, your heart beating too fast, feeling like you couldn’t breathe again as images of an unresponsive Cordelia flashed in your mind, asleep but with her chest not moving, her heart not beating, a small moonstone shining pale blue on her skin that was as white as a corpse’s.

Before you knew it you were sobbing again, hanging on to Cordelia for dear life as she whispered words of comfort in your ear and stroke your back in a circling motion. You didn’t hear Madison ordering the girls to scatter, didn’t hear their confused footsteps, barely registered Cordelia pulling you up to your feet and guiding you back to your room. Gently she tucked you in bed, brushed your hair off your face, ran a hand up and down your arm as she wiped your tears with the other. You mumbled something, incoherent and sad, and she lay down by your side and wrapped you up in her arms safely. You pressed your ear to her chest, let the sound of her heartbeat lull you as you counted in your head, one, two, three, on the fourth beat a fond “I love you” murmured by Cordelia with a kiss on your head.

**

You had rarely seen Cordelia as mad as she was the day after when you explained to her where you had bought the necklaces. Anger burst from her like a snake opening its mouth to sink its fangs into flesh. Cordelia always looked powerful. Now she looked terrifying.

You stammered out short, anxious answers to her questions, instinctively leaning away from her. She noticed, and that seemed to make her angrier still.

She stormed out of the house and you stood nervously waiting for her on the porch. New Orleans would hold a funeral in a day or two. A corpse would be found but no clues as to its murderer would ever be discovered. Anna Morgana would be buried under the eyes of a curious crowd, camera flashes reflecting off her coffin.

You nervously shifted your weight on your feet, your eyes scanning the street in front of you, your teeth sinking into your lower lip. Ten, twenty, thirty minutes passed, and then Cordelia walked through the gate to the Academy. But she wasn’t alone.

Your heart did something weird. It jumped up your throat in fear, then swelled with warmth and pride and love. Anna Morgana was walking by Cordelia’s side, clutching a small backpack to her chest, her eyes avoiding you. She looked younger, somehow, and even though she was only a few inches shorter than Cordelia her body was like that of a child next to your Supreme.

Cordelia stopped in front of you, squinting in the sun. You tried to scowl at her, but the nervous grin you had been holding back crept up your face and your eyes lit up with love and adoration for this woman.

“Of fucking course,” you said.

Cordelia shrugged.

“What?” She cocked her head to the side, watching you. There was a hint of nervousness in her eyes as she studied your reaction. You reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. “She needed help. That doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences for your action,” she added, shooting Anna Morgana a cold, hard glance.

As it turned out, Cordelia’s intuition had been right: there was a new witch in town, and she was confused and lost. Anna Morgana must have known, deep down, that she was a witch, but the thought was so terrifying, so utterly unacceptable that when she saw you in her shop, when she heard you mention the Supreme, she freaked out. Her magic seemed to be powerful: all she did was wish that the necklaces would harm their owners, and she had quite succeeded.

Anna Morgana kept working at her shop, but she also started attending classes at the Academy. She profusely apologized to you and to Cordelia, bought you countless gifts, did all kinds of nice things for you, adamant that she right her wrong. She had a lovely personality, and quickly became part of the coven.

You knew she had been confused and terrified of who she was; you knew what fear was capable of doing to even the best of people. But you couldn’t help it: every time your eyes fell on Anna Morgana, every time you heard her voice, something in you awoke that you could not control and that had the terrible, pungent smell of panic. It grew in you like a seed, taking root in your stomach, spreading its branches into your chest to wrap around your heart and squeeze, tight.

You could tell it was hard for Cordelia, too. You had never heard her snap at any of her girls but Madison, and now Anna Morgana was added to the list, especially in the first few days of her settling in at the Academy. There often was an edge to Cordelia’s voice when she spoke to her, a flash of anger in her eyes, her arm extending protectively in front of you whenever Anna Morgana entered the room you were in. But Cordelia’s heart was endlessly kind, and she was brave, and believed people could change when given the opportunity to. Soon her attitude towards Anna Morgana softened. And Anna Morgana, like all the other girls in Cordelia’s care, opened up like a flower and blossomed and started healing.

And you felt trapped in a corner. Guilt about not being able to move on and forgive gnawed at you like a dog gnaws on a bone and doesn’t let go. Guilt about not being able to be the brave person Cordelia deserved. And the fear that would clench your heart every time someone would so much as mention Anna Morgana, grew so strong and invasive you were sure it had settled permanently in you like a new organ your body had grown. This organ was ill and worked poorly. It kept you up all night, made you fidgety. The faintest of noises – someone coughing in the room next door, footsteps in your back – boomed in your ears like the detonation of a gun and made you jump.

It became hard to focus on daily tasks. You isolated yourself from the other girls, saying you had too much to do for spare time. You snapped at one of the younger girls, once, for no good reason at all. And then you isolated yourself from Cordelia. You pretended to be too tired to wait up for her on the nights she worked till late. You avoided her at lunchtime, hiding in your room with whatever food your stomach could hold.

That week was particularly busy for Cordelia. She had to fly halfway across the country to bring back a new girl who was too panicked to leave her room. When she came back she had barely slept for three days and did not allow herself to rest until she had gone through the paperwork you had neglected to deal with. She nearly collapsed into your arms that night, and you gently tucked her in and dropped a quick, distracted kiss on her forehead before you all but ran to your own room. You thought you heard Anna Morgana’s voice in the corridor, which nearly drove you crazy with fear and had you mutter a protection spell behind your locked door. You whispered one for Cordelia, too, just in case.

You thought, you really did, that you could carry on living in a constant state of fear.

You woke up one night and everything around you was dark. Terror shot through you as something suddenly pressed all of its weight upon your chest and dear Lord, you could not breathe. You sat bolt upright, gasping for air, your shaking hands coming up to your chest to try and get rid of the necklace, but all you could feel was skin, hot, clammy skin, so you clawed at it desperately but the pressure would not go. It would not let you breathe. So you tried to spring out of the bed, wheezing now, your legs tangling up in the cover, but something closed around your arm to hold you back.

“Let go!” you screamed – and it was angry, it was an order, but above all it was terrified.

“Y/N what – “

You tried to hit whatever was holding you back, but it seemed you had lost your bearings for your hand only slammed air. And then there was light, and you realized it was Cordelia, only Cordelia, sitting up with her eyes wide with fear and worry, and there was nothing, no necklace around your neck.

You had one leg still on the bed, the other dangling out, and your nails had clawed so hard at your chest that the skin was red and scratched.

“Y/N are you alright? What happened?”

You ran a shaky hand through your hair, avoiding Cordelia’s eyes. Her hand that was holding your arm slid up to your shoulder to pull you towards her, but you resisted, trying to blink back the tears that were burning your eyes, humiliation and fear battling to take possession of your brain.

“Hey,” Cordelia called, her voice gentler now. You felt the mattress dip as she moved closer to you. Her warmth pressed against you. “Sweetheart, talk to me.”

“It was nothing.” Your voice was too small. You closed your eyes and squeezed them tight. “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

Cordelia let out a sigh. Gingerly, she pulled you back into bed. This time, you let her. But you were still too terrified to lie down, so you sat with your back against the headboard, one hand still pressed against your chest, your breathing still too fast, too shallow. Cordelia hummed, rested one hand on your thigh.  

“Bad dream?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You shook your head. Your throat was too tight.

“I woke up and I couldn’t – “ you croaked, tears spilling down your cheeks, your chin trembling as you let out a sob.

“You couldn’t breathe,” Cordelia finished for you. You met her gaze, her eyes so big and brown and shining with tears but so brave, and so kind, and so forgiving.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, hiding your face in your hands. Suddenly it was all too much, the fear, the guilt, the anger that had plagued you for the past few days washing over you like water released from a dam and threatening to carry you away in its force. Your body shook and caved in; but Cordelia’s arms met you, and held you tight.

It took a while for you to calm down. When you eventually did, you lay limp and spent with your body sagging into Cordelia’s. She stroked your back in a circling motion, as she always did when you needed to be comforted.  

“I’m sorry,” you repeated in a breath.

“Don’t apologise. I’m the only one to blame. I should – “ Her voice faltered, and you felt her swallow hard. Automatically your hand came up to stroke her cheek in comfort. “I’ve been too busy to even notice you were struggling.”

“I can’t –“ You closed your eyes, clutching at Cordelia’s nightdress. “My brain can’t seem to stop associating Anna with danger.” You paused, swallowed hard. “She could have killed me. She could have killed you.”

“I know.“ Cordelia inhaled deeply and dropped a kiss on your head. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “I can’t kick her out. She hasn’t done anything wrong since she’s been with us, and she has no home, nowhere else to go. She’s just coming to terms with her powers. I don’t…” She shook her head, bit her lip and pulled away to look into your eyes. Hers were big and watery and desperate. “I don’t know what to do,” she finished in a breath.

Something in her eyes, something in that confession – the helplessness, perhaps, that was so unlike her – made your heart roar in protest. You thought you could take a lot of things in this world, but this seemed to draw the line: there was no way on Earth, Heaven or Hell you’d be the one to paint that look on Cordelia’s face – your brave, kind, sunlit Cordelia.

You cupped her face, and when you next spoke your voice surprised you both. It was firm and confident and coated in a newfound determination that chased the demons out of the room. “You don’t have to do anything. You’re right, we can’t kick her out.” You tried for a smile. “So I’ll get a grip on myself and get over this.”

You tried to stop avoiding Anna Morgana. You sat next to her at breakfast, initiated a conversation at lunch, laughed at a joke she said at dinner. It sounded and looked too fake, but at least it was a first. You felt too nauseous to sleep that night, so you stayed up in the living room to watch movies. A little after midnight Cordelia joined you, carrying a blanket and two pillows. She snuggled up to you without a word, rested her head on your shoulder and made some sleepy comments about the movie. You fell asleep within the next half hour, lulled by Cordelia’s soft breathing.

The following days were scary, and some too hard when you felt like giving up and fleeing the city. Anxiety couldn’t be reasoned with. But Cordelia seemed to be everywhere with you, lingering in a corner of the room where you and Anna Morgana had a conversation, handing you a cup of coffee in the kitchen when you and Anna Morgana said good-morning, resting a hand soothingly on the small of your back when one time you considered wrapping your own hands around Anna Morgana’s neck and choke her for revenge.

On a Friday afternoon two weeks later, you and Anna Morgana went to get tattoos together. She held your hand during the entire session. Later that day as you met Cordelia in a corridor (dressed in one of her beautiful long floral dresses, stealing all the lights and colours from the sunset), you waved your arm in front of her face with a giddy smile and she gently grabbed your hand, flashing you a grin. The look on her face grew from amused to surprised to moved. When her eyes met yours, they were shining with love and tears.

“A lion’s heart,” you said softly, smiling down at the tattoo on your wrist, then back up at her. “It’s the meaning of your name, it’s what you have, it’s what you gave me.”

Cordelia bit her lip, gave a teary laugh and kissed you passionately in full view of everyone (she freaked out about it later, of course, and held an emergency meeting with the older girls during which Madison lost her cool and cried out, “surprise, bitch, everyone fucking knew”).

**

On the first day of summer you were awakened by a soft knock on your door.

You groaned, pressed your face closer to Cordelia’s chest as she stirred. Her skin was warm and soft and smelled like safety. You planted a lazy kiss between her breasts.

Another knock, louder. You opened your eyes groggily, and were met with the sight of pale skin, freckles sprayed over the swell of Cordelia’s breasts, a strand of blond hair curling just below her collarbone. Your mouth watered and something excited fizzed in your stomach.

“Your room,” Cordelia grumbled sleepily as another knock sounded.

You considered ignoring the goddamn intruder to worship your Supreme instead, but Cordelia – ever the responsible one – poked your knee with hers. You lifted your head, meaning to scowl, but her eyes were closed, a lazy smirk spreading all over her beautiful, messy morning face.

With a groan you got up, your legs heavy with sleep. You snorted as Cordelia mumbled, “Being the Supreme means I get to have nice boobs,” – because of course she knew exactly what was in your mind.

You opened the door with a rough “What?”

Anna Morgana flashed you a shy smile. She was dressed in a black lace blouse, black pleated skirt, and her hair was braided with pink flowers and sunkissed by the early rays slipping through the window.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said with another shy smile. “I thought you’d be up by now.”

Her gaze slid sideways and stared at something behind you. You pulled the door closer to you.

“I thought you’d be alone,” Anna Morgana went on. Her eyes met yours, amused. You tried to glare, but a smile betrayed you.

“I come bearing a gift,” Anna Morgana announced. She extended both her hands. In the middle of them sat a small rectangular box that looked way too familiar. Something unpleasant rose in your chest. You glanced up at Anna Morgana worriedly, but she nodded encouragement.

“Come on, open it.”

You’d rather not. You’d really, really rather not. Why was it suddenly too hard to breathe? For a second you were about to slam the door in Anna Morgana’s face. But then from behind you came the sound of ruffling sheet, of a warm body stretching in a lazy summer morning light, the sun bright and shining and still going strong, still welcoming every new day.

With a shaky hand you opened the box and lifted up the thin, delicate moonstone necklace. Your heart was pounding, and the room was too hot.

“It matches the colour of your eyes,” you heard Anna Morgana say. “And this one won’t try to strangle you.”

“It’s beautiful,” came Cordelia’s voice. One of her arms slipped around your waist and drew you close to her. Your body relaxed. You glanced up at her for courage, like plants stretch towards the sun for life.

You managed to offer Anna Morgana a smile. “Thank you,” you said, your fingers closing around the necklace.

Cordelia’s fingers playfully tickled your hip and your thigh bumped hers in retaliation, just as something in your chest you had not really known was there loosened and took flight and disappeared out of the window to melt in the summer heat.

[thebluestbluewords]

Silver(ware) Storm Today’s fic is brought to you by the burning question: How does dining service even WORK at Auradon prep??? Also, why are there only like six characters with full names and backstories? And WHY has nobody created a charming exchange student from a Don Bluth movie yet??

“Students work here?” Evie asks sweetly, twirling a piece of hair around her finger. Her hair is tied up in an elegant braid for dinner. They didn’t have time to curl her front pieces again, but they’re still holding well enough from the morning. Unlike Mal, Evie looks as cool and unbothered as a mermaid on a misty morning. “That’s nice of them.”

Mal is sweating through her undershirt. Fuck, she’s going to have to change later if they don’t want everyone in the halls smelling her from a mile away. Doug isn’t even as sweaty as she is right now, and he’s a teenage boy.

He’s still stuttering at Evie though, which will never not be satisfying for Mal to watch. “Some of us!” He explains. “It’s not-- you won’t have to. The king is covering your tuition.”

“How generous of him.” Mal deadpans. “He really seems like the generous type, what with all the smiling and waving and stuff.”

Doug glances at her. Interesting. “Yeah,” he says flatly. “That’s him. Generous.”

Oh, now this could be interesting indeed. “I thought Ben wasn’t the king yet,” Mal says, leaning in. “Isn’t he a good prince?”

Doug glances over at her. It clearly takes him some effort to pull his eyes away from Evie’s tits, as it should. “No, um,” he says, glancing nervously at Mal’s face, then landing somewhere over her right shoulder instead. “King Adam is covering the cost of your tuition.”

“King Beast?” Mal says, eyebrows shooting into her hairline before she can stop herself. “The big guy himself is paying for us to go to school with all the little princelings?”

Doug is still wildly trying to avoid eye contact, “Ah, that is, Prince Ben thought it would be best if--”

“Does King Beast know that he’s covering our tuition?” Mal asks, leaning forwards.

Doug deflates with a sigh. “No,” he admits. “That is, he knows, I’m sure. But Prince Ben is the one who put through the order for the children of the isle of the lost to have their tuition covered by the crown.”

Interesting indeed. “And is this a partial scholarship, dependent on good behavior, or?”

“It’s a diplomatic one.” somebody says from behind Mal’s shoulder. “Contingent on not getting kicked out of school.”

Mal’s head whips around so fast she can hear something in her spine protest. “Kicked out?” She manages, though her heart is beating practically out of her chest. “What sort of person do you think I am, getting kicked out of school?”

The kid laughs, and holds out a hand. “A villain, of course. I’m Aza, son of Dimitry. Here on a diplomatic scholarship as well.”

“Hi.”

“It’s so good to meet you,” Aza says, looking Mal square in the face as they shake hands. “It’s been so long since we had new kids here from outside of Auradon.”

The kid is taller than Mal, which isn’t hard. He’s not tall by any means, but the strength of his grip and the width of his shoulders probably means he’s stronger than his height suggests. He’s got brown hair, and unlike most of the kids with their gelled and tamed styles, it flops in front of his eyes when he moves. Mal sort of wants to hit him, just to see what he’ll do. She’s got a suspicion that the answer won’t be “curl up and cry” the way that she’s guessing it would be for most of the sugar-sweet royalty she’s seen around so far.

“Charmed,” she says, giving his hand a little squeeze before she lets go. “It’ll be nice to know we’re not the only ones who aren’t… from here.”

Aza laughs. “Oh, you aren’t.” he says. He doesn’t smell like anything at all, which is so odd that Mal almost wants to take another whiff at him. “There’s a whole squad of us, if you will. The international students. Some of us have been in Auradon for years, but others are just here for high school, like you.”

“Thank you, Aza.” Doug says, back straight and more life in his eyes than Mal’s seen out of him yet. “I need to keep showing our new students the dining hall, if you don’t mind?”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all,” Aza says, moving around to stand next to Jay, at the back of the little huddle they’ve instinctively formed upon walking into the new space. “I’ll just tag along if you don’t mind, always nice to see the old place with fresh eyes again.”

“The tour is supposed to be for new students only.” Doug says. He’s not glaring, but there’s certainly an expression on his face.

“Let’s pretend I’ve forgotten where I am,” Aza says, eyes flashing. “I need the tour again, da?”

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs “Self Destruct.”

Lol, wrote this one because I was thinking about it and it seemed liek aliens would find it sort of weird. Also they are totally stupid if they don’t take advantage of it :) 

The club was dark, an electronic human beat thundered through the floor as neon lights flashed and faded in time with the music. They kept it like that to keep off unwanted visitors. Generally only humans, Drev and Tesraki were willing to come into such an establishment. It tended to keep away all the goodie goodies who were to logical or law-abiding to see the true value of running under the radar.

Plus the music was loud enough, ad the humans were strange enough that they tended to draw the attention away from other aliens, and as far as the humans went, you just made sure to have half naked humans, and that generally dealt with anyone else who might be eavesdropping. Kinda hard to concentrate when your baser instincts are taking over.

It was with these rules and precautions in place that the syndicate met with each other, under the throbbing pulse  of the club’s beat, and the glowing light of neon.

There were five of them all together.

There were two Tesraki. One a young female with velvety black fur sitting cuddled close to a serious-faced dark-skinned human. He didn’t seem to notice her clinging to his arm as she was. In fact, he didn’t seem to notice much, a distant far-away look in his eyes either the product of cortical damage or the ravages of drugs though he was big, and acted as a good deterrent for anyone, human, or otherwise who might think about approaching uninvited.

Just to the side of them were two drev, one of them a mysterious pearlescent silver, and the other a rare sheen of black run up and down with strange rainbow light. He kept quiet his head down towards the table.

The last figure sat at the head of the table. A tesraki, tawny in color. One of his ears was rather mangled flopped constantly to one side and unable to move as the other was. He was missing a finger on his left hand leaving him with only three fingers, though all seven of his remaining digits were covered in rings and jewels. His beady black eyes blinked int the strobing of the neon lights.

“Well, do you have it.”

The dark furred Drev glowered at him while stroking her large human companion’s arm, “Payment first.”

The tesraki snarled, “Like I would trust you with payment.”

“Then at least let me make sure you have the credits.” She patted the human’s arm. If you don’t I will be forced to ask Z to deal with you, and he doesn't like having to deal with people.” 

Noctus snarled, but pulled a bag of credits from his belt and tossed it onto the table, a few of them spilling out onto it’s clear reflective surface dancing with the blue and pink neon lights overhead.

She reached out a hand beady black eyes wide with greed, but her hand was slapped away, “Now my information.”

She sighed but leaned back in her chair, “What do you want first, the object or the other information.”

“Why not talk about the object first.”

She shrugged, “No big deal. You’ll be able to find it in one of the shops on fifth three days from tomorrow. At that point it will be at its most vulnerable, and you will be able to take it without too much difficulty. Between the times of high sun, and a first moon low, security will be minimal, and anyone talented enough will be able to get in and take it. Now ... coming into the real problem, is actually getting out.”

Noctus crossed his arms, “Go on.” A group of loud drunken humans stumbled into the room adding a greater degree of chaos to the room.

“The GA has caught wind of our activities….”

Noctus groaned head thudding against the table as he rested his forehead against the cold glass.

“Expect to see some old friends of yours, Noctis.” The silver drev teased her yellow eyes squinted with amusement and pleasure at the Tesraki’s expense.

The dark female nodded, “Expect it. I heard rumors that they have THOSE humans working on it while they do repairs in our port. Usually I wouldn’t agree to something this dangerous now that THEY are involved, but…. That was before I heard about this thing.” She patted the big human’s arm.

“Well go on, don’t leave us in suspense.”

She grinned, “My informants have given me words, about something that could change the way we interact with humans. A last resort against their power and speed when all else is lost. It is guaranteed to work on at least fifty percent of the human population.”

“Only fifty percent.” Noctus demanded.

She frowned at him, “that’s fifty percent of humans YOU don’t have to deal with. Now let me finish.” She adjusted herself and continued, “I am told that this simple trick CAN incapacitate a human for up to an hour. You see, the way that some humans are built its like they have a natural…. Self destruct button, and if you can hit it, you win. Granted it isn’t likely to kill them, but making and injuring is a possibility.”

“And how does this help. If you are that close to a human than you are probably already dead anyway.” 

She waved a hand, “that is not the important part.” She reached behind her back and pulled out a little devie, something like a drone but not quite, “You remember this little gadget don’t you.”

“Isn’t that one of those self defence items for use against humans.”

She grinned and nodded, “This one is specific to the use of pressure points on the body as you will recall.” 

“Yeah, but it's not lethal, and my colleagues have shown that most humans can fight through it. And the way it was programmed immediately has the authorities raining down on us if we try to program it for more LETHAL things.”

She grinned at him, “Oh, but that is the beauty about this little piece of information. It isn’t lethal, but it has an extremely high incapacitation rate,  AND because it is not lethal, or even known to most of the GA, nothing is sanctioned against it. In essence, we have found a loophole.”

There was a pause around the room, “And has it been programmed into this device?”

She nodded another smug grin pushing it across the table, “Already done. Now it is up to your dark friend there to get things done.” She glanced towards the black Drev who sa brooding in his corner.

Slowly, and with one of his four arms, he reached out and picked up the object  kneading it in his four fingers, “Do you think you can do it?” Noctus demanded.

“Think, no. I know.”

***

The alarm sounded behind him as he slithered through the gap between two buildings and into a back alley. His dark carapace shimmered in the neon lights from billboards overhead, and he could hear the roaring of voices from down the street.  He recognized most of them as human.

He glanced over his shoulder having expected to be pursued, but he didn’t see anyone.

He turned back to the front alley breaking into a jog over the cold metal feet thudding quietly. He was almost there when, a shadow moved into the gap in front of him. In comparison to himself it was rather small, but the bipedal two armed nature of the creature made him pull to a stop.

He had expected this.

The human stepped from the shadows. He was tall for a human, but short compared to even the shortest Drev. He had tawny yellow fur atop his head, and was missing an eye. If what they said was true, he was also missing a leg. His face was mottled with the blue green luminance of the UV light playing along invisible stripes within his skin.  That same blue green glowed inside that single green eye. 

The fact that he was here didn’t exactly bode well for their little operation.

“Jeeajish daeen! Neh’hastish!” 

He was momentarily shocked into stillness surprised at hearing the drev language spoken by the squishy creature. 

He paused in place, “I have never met a human who could speak Drev before.”

The human stepped forward blue neon light highlighting the right side of his face, pink neon light lighting the left, “Well, now you have. I suggest you get on the ground and put your hands in the air before I am forced to do it for you.”

“Only you?” He wondered

“Je, zhe s nee tadi.” 

He turned in a sharp circle towards the second alley to his right to find the small female Drev stepping from the shadows, her beautiful luminescent blue dampened somewhat by the fluorescent yellow light at her back.

The human stepped closer, “I don’t suggest trying her unless you want to be humiliated.” 

The Drev turned back to the human reaching discreetly behind his back, “Oh, I don’t plan on it.” he pressed his finger into the trigger, and the little drone shot out from his hand.

***

Adam felt the impact a good five seconds before the pain set in. He had even gone to take a step thinking he would be ok, but knew he was wrong when his vision faded to grey.

***

The Drev thought it hadn’t worked at first. The human looked surprised , and then his skin slowly went white the rosy undertone fading from his face before he collapsed to the ground. He didn’t bother to look back racing forward and leaping over the human’s fallen body.” 

***

Death, death was upon him. He was going to die…. He wanted to die. It came in throbbing waves of agony through his innards. Like getting the wind knocked out of you but worse because at the same time he felt the overwhelming need to vomit. He barely recalled hitting the ground, but there it was right next to his face as he gagged and gasped curled into a ball on the cold metal of a filthy back alleyway. His vision was fuzzy and dark around the edges, so he barely noticed as a dark for leaped over him and raced into the crowd. He heaved again nears springing to his eyes with the horrific pain as if all his bowels were about to go shooting out of his body while his lungs refused to expand.

***

Sunny didn’t see what happened, one minute Adam had been facing off against the dark Drev, the next moment he had been on the ground while the other drev was escaping. She raced after him, but stopped upon coming to her fallen companion. Adam lay on the filthy ground curled into a tight ball. A high pitched sort of keening was breaking from his mouth as he rocked back and forth on the ground. That was only occasionally broken by the coughing and gagging. He was as pale as a sheet and tears were dripping from his exposed eye, which was squeezed shut. Little beads of sweat were rolling from his hairline and clinging to his skin. 

Sunny stopped in place and keyed her mic in frustration, “Man down! He’s getting away. He did something to Adam.” She tried to place a hand on Adam’s shoulder, but the human snarled at her swiping away her hand before curling back into a ball. Sunny leaned back in shock and surprise. She had never seen a human go that feral before.

“Maintaining pursuit.” Maverick panted over the radio.

Boots thundered against the ground down the alleyway, and sunny looked up to find team 2, headed by ramirez run into the alley.

The olive-skinned human pulled to a stop upon seeing the scene eyes going wide and then grimacing, “Oh shit.”

“What is going on.” Sunny demanded.

Ramirez walked over, “Ur…. he will be ok… hopefully.” he grimaced as he watched his friend writhe on the ground at his feet. Sunny saw his hands twitch, and he had gone almost as pale as Adam. Sunny had never seen an empathy reaction that obvious before.

***

He took another corner grinning to himself. It had worked, it had worked like a charm, the creepy little Tesraki hadn’t been wrong, and now he was pretty sure he had lost his pursuit. He turned another corner and skidded to a halt as another human blocked his path. This one was even shorter than the first by almost a foot, practically puny, compared to a drev. She too had a sort of white tawny hair and glittering hazel eyes. 

“Go on, try it. I'll kick your ass either way.” He smirked reaching behind his back and pressing the little button on the drone.

The human staggered back curling forward and yelping in pain, “SHIT!”

He waited for her to go down, but after a moment she straightened up face twisted into an expression of anger, “Ouch…” She snarled, and then ran at him.

***

Andam was getting ready to beg god to end him right there, when the horrific pain started to dull. He no longer needed to throw up, and he could breathe again. But walking was out of the question. Uncurling form his ball, he saw he was surrounded by a group of grimacing marines. 

Ramirez knelt next to him, “You ok.”

He grimaced trying to make a coherent thought, “They…. Know.”

He sighed, “They were bound to figure it out at some point.”

***

They were expecting Maverick, and for such reason were not surprised one she showed up dragging the incapacitated Drev behind her in power restraints. Her face was sort of twisted into an expression of mild discomfort and she threw the drev onto the ground at their feet, “I caught him.”

Adam looked up from where he was sitting, still looking green, on a discarded crate in the side of the alley.

“What do we know.” Ramirez asked

She smirked, “Apparently, dipshit here was told that his little device here.” She held it up, “Had the power to incapacitate fifty percent of the human population, apparently he didn’t stop to tell hi WHICH fifty percent of the population it wouldn't work on.” She grimaced again, “Not that it didn’t hurt, bastard.” 

Adam lowered his head with a groan.

Maverick patted his arm, “hopefully you don’t lose anything.”

“My pride…. My dignity.” He moaned.

 “Too late.”

Too bad the aliens hadn’t figured out who it would work on. It’s not everyday you learn a weakness that applies to fifty percent of a species. 

However now fifty percent of the human population was in…. Mild to moderate danger. 

Is not everyday that aliens have power over humans

[jimlingss]

Jungle Park [13]

Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 13.5 OR Chapter 14

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: Fluff, Light Humour (?), Slice of Life, Workplace Romance!AU

➜ Summary: The equation is simple. Hoseok needs to hire someone. You need a job. Except like any actual equation, it’s not fucking simple at all! Not when you have to add the fact that he was forced to hire someone he doesn’t want in his office, he has little respect for your job in general, and oh yeah...once upon a time you might have—*CENSORED*.

➜ Warning: Implied smut

“You look so good tonight.”   “Yeah, right.” She scoffs, looking straight into his brown eyes and ignoring the way his hand fiddle with the cotton hem of her floral skirt. “Your little games won’t work on me, Chen.”   “And why not?”   “Because I know you.”   “Do you now?” He cocks a brow upwards, intrigued at her confidence.   “I know the minute you have your fun with me, you’d go onto your next target,” she whispers in a breath, sounding more sultry than angered or accusational. “And let me tell you something...I’m not that easy.”   “I think you’ve misunderstood,” he says and removes his hand back to his own lap. “I don’t care about my job. I don’t give a shit about any other girl. I just want you.”   It’s quiet for a moment as she rolls her eyes and looks out the window. But there’s nothing to see when the surroundings are blanketed in darkness. “You’re a good liar. I almost believed you for a second there.”   “That’s because I’m not lying.” He slides and leans closer to her, murmuring and letting his hot breath skim over the shell of his ear. His rough hand returns to her thigh, slowly moving upwards, skin brushing on skin. “There’s nothing I would rather do than to pin you to my bed and fuck you deep until you can’t walk straight.”   She swallows hard, rapid breaths leaving parted lips and the woman decides to dance with temptation. “...What else?”   “I’d bend you over my lap and spank you for all the times you misbehaved.” His lips nip at her jaw and down her neck, tongue peeking out to lap at her flesh and relishing in the way she visibly shivers and seems to melt in his touch and shivers. “I know you try to act like you’re bad. But you’re a good girl who would take my entire cock. You’d cream all over me and when I’m done, I’d push my cum right back inside of you. You would like that….wouldn’t you? For me to fuck my cum inside your tight, pink pussy?”   The female’s breathing becomes laboured and she locks her gaze with his. “What if I told you I wasn’t wearing any underwear…”   “Then I’d take you right here, right now.”   It’s instantaneous. The two of them tug each other until their lips are smacking. They pull one another close, moaning as their kiss deepens and a soft groan leaves his chest at her taste. His hand comes up to tease her upper thigh and she gasps when he nibbles on her bottom lip.   It’s hot and heavy, full of obscene sounds and gasps that echo in the small space.   When they part, there’s a thin string of saliva that connects their swollen lips. She’s hyperventilating, the strap of her dress falling off her shoulder. “Th-this…...this isn’t right. What about your fiancée?”   “It doesn’t matter.” He’s eager, taking off his seat belt and holding her again. “I want you. I only want you.”   They kiss each other again, more intense this time, and he’s ready to pull her to straddle his lap, over the bulge forming in his pants….but then there’s a noisy clearing of the throat.   It’s obnoxious, sounding like you’re coughing up a chicken bone lodged in your esophagus.   You’re tightly gripping the steering wheel, sweating from your hairline, and glancing into the rear-view mirror every other second. You really, really don’t appreciate how they act like you’re an inanimate object, like you’re not less than a meter away from them and you can hear everything. You can see everything. And at this rate, you’re about to go blind.   It’s a massive distraction. You can’t even imagine what would happen if your mom found out you died after crashing your cab because your passengers were having sex and you couldn’t keep your eyes on the road — you’re sure that’s a new level of patheticness.   “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you can’t do that here!”   He parts away from her in annoyance and shouts at you, “Just get us to the destination, lady!”   The man is adamant about continuing and you slam on the brakes, jolting the entire vehicle forward as the tires shriek against the asphalt, causing them both to scream, and you park at the curb.   The couple cuss up a storm, and you rip off your seat belt to turn around. “No.”   This is where you draw the line. You’ve put up with a lot before, but you can’t allow stains on your seats or the horrible smell that would linger once they’re long gone. “I am not going to let you have sex in the backseat of my taxi! I’m trying to drive! I’m sorry! But no!”   He’s frustrated, leaning back and running a hand through his hair. The guy is desperate for a good dicking, you understand that, but he needs to understand your situation too.   Before you can get another word in, he digs into his pants, pulling out a wallet in his pocket. The male throws a few crumpled bills at your face and they land in your palms that you brought out on pure reflex. It’s three hundred dollars in cash.   “There. Is that enough?”   They become impatient at your extended silence, but there’s an entire debate going inside your mind. Are you really going to throw your dignity away? The answer is — “Make it quick.”   Yes…   Yes, you are.   You end up outside at two in the morning in the freezing cold. Every time you exhale, you can see your breath, a cloud of condensation created and floating up to the real clouds. There’s a faint light from a lamppost a few meters away, but it’s effort of providing luminescence is weak. You’re left at the side of the empty road, surrounded in darkness.   You pull out your phone to play a game until your hands begin to crack and shake from the frigid temperature, and you’re forced to bury them in your pockets. Your lips splinter, chapped at the corners, cheeks made numb, nose dripping, and frost nips at your skin. If you had known you’d be standing outside, you would’ve brought a warmer coat. But alas, you accept your situation, kicking rocks underneath your foot, shivering and trying to think of other things aside from how dark and cold it is.   Behind you, the car begins to shake and rattle like there’s an earthquake happening inside. You can hear the throaty moans and groans, causing you to hum loudly to yourself to block it out. It lasts for thirty minutes since they take their good old time enjoying themselves. And by the time you’re able to enter again, you sneeze for the fifth time.

Jung Hoseok isn’t sure what’s wrong with him.   Every morning is a routine for him. The moment he wakes up, he finds himself walking into work a mere hour later. He’s always in a fresh, crisp suit, wearing dark loafers and carrying a briefcase. It’s the same day in and day out, the daily grind of working that brings purpose to his life. But for some godforsaken reason, today, there’s a bouquet of limp baby’s breath in his other hand.   They were on sale.   It was too good of a deal to let go. And sure, it looks like he grabbed a fistful of weeds from someone’s lawn, but they were pretty up close. Though he honestly doesn’t know what to do with them. He’s certain that he shouldn’t just waltz up into the office with a bouquet like this. Or maybe he can put it in his office, maybe he can give them to Lisa and tell her to find a vase or—   You.   You’re walking ahead of him, cutting through the lobby towards the elevators. If he calls out your name, you would stop to turn around. If he picked up his pace, he could make it on time….   Quickly, he turns to the nearest person beside him. “Here.”   Hoseok shoves the baby breaths to the lady security guard at the front door instead of trashing them. The older woman is taken off guard and she glances down, before staring at his face, and then she takes them. “T-Thank you?”   She’s in complete shock that the infamous Jung, known for being brutal and an asshole, has given her flowers. In the next seconds, the surprise morphs into awe and she’s touched, putting a hand over her chest, mouth still wide open. But Hoseok doesn’t pay any attention and only gives a firm nod, eyes diverted off to you. “Keep up the good work.”   When the compliment that acts as an explanation is said and done, he takes off, quick steps and wide strides until he’s practically running. Everyone turns around to gawk, moving out of the way and absolutely bewildered at how the usually composed lawyer is sprinting in the lobby. “Y/N! Y/N!”   You hear his voice, automatically pressing the button to keep the elevator doors open. Hoseok appears with a grin on his face and you stare at him, blinking once. “What’s wrong?”   “No, nothing.” He catches his breath, stepping into the elevator and watching as the door shuts. Hoseok steals a glance at you. “Good morning.”   “Morning.” You hold back a laugh, but it still bubbles out. “Why are you so energetic today?”   “What do you mean?”   Your finger lifts to point to his head. “You’re sweating.”   “No, I’m not.” The lawyer sulks and then tries to fix his hair that he feels is flopping onto his forehead. He tries to look into the polished silver of the metal walls, but the reflection is too blurred.   You sigh. “Here, let me.” And reaching up, you comb his bangs back into place. “There we go.”   The doors part when the elevator stops at the correct level and you walk out. Hoseok is left lingering in a delayed moment, caught off guard, and he scrambles out before the elevator can start moving again. “Your voice sounds kind of hoarse,” he comments.   “Really?” You forcibly clear your throat several times, ignoring how it aches. “Better?”   “A bit. Did you catch a cold?”   “I don’t know...” The pair of you slow down once you enter the office floor, making your way down the hallway towards your personal offices, past reception where Lisa and Dahyun are already answering calls.   “You should take medicine if you are,” he takes a peek at you and then looks away. “Wouldn’t want you to infect anyone else in the firm.”   “Don’t worry, you won’t catch whatever I have,” you tease, even when he mutters something along the lines of ‘that’s not what I mean’. For some reason, Hoseok seems tense and he stops right in front of your closet of an office like he’s dropping you off at your front door. There’s an awkward silence. “I’m going in now.” You turn your body slightly, hitching your thumb over your shoulder.   “Right,” he nods. “I’ll see you later then.”   Hoseok walks the way he came from, going straight into the office and shutting the door.   As a violent sneeze leaves you, making your head ache, you wonder if he’s really the sick one and not you.   //   The clock is slower than it should be. Perhaps it’s broken and he should call someone up to fix it again. But then it doesn’t explain why his computer and phone have the same exact time on it. Hoseok feels as if the seconds are being drawn out, five minutes turned into fifty, an hour is a whole day. The universe warps around him and it’s not because work is especially boring.   “I’m going downstairs.” Yoongi pokes his head through the door. “Want anything?”   “Why are you sucking up to me?” Hoseok flips the page, trying to get the documents in order for a court hearing tomorrow. “Are you trying to get that additional vacation day?”   The lawyer smirks. “Maybe.”   “I don’t need anything.” Suddenly, a thought crosses his mind and he pauses, movements stopping. Jung Hoseok lifts his head and stands up, chair pushed back haphazardly. “Wait. I’ll come with you.”   “Sounds good.”   They walk down the hallway together and Hoseok’s eyes stray off to the end. “What’s Y/N doing?”   “I don’t know.” Yoongi’s steps slow, still retaining his impassive expression despite being thrown the odd question. “Want me to go ask?”   “No, no, it’s fine.” They continue forward, entering the elevator as he buries his hands in his dress pants pockets. “She has a cold, that’s all.”   “If you cared about your employees spreading their colds, maybe you should be more lenient with those sick days,” he mutters from the corner of his mouth passive aggressively, making Hoseok smile while he watches the numbers of the elevator decrease.   “You’re not getting that extra vacation day, Yoongi. I’m not paying you to sleep at home.”   The corner coffee shop in the downstairs lobby isn’t too busy at this time of day, between the morning bustle and lunchtime. The two men join the line-up with Yoongi ahead, ordering a blueberry muffin with his drink and a strudel that Sunyi ordered. When it comes to Hoseok’s turn, he only takes a mere glance at the menu.   “I’ll take two regular coffees please.”   He taps his card on the machine, moving to the other counter to wait for his drinks. Yoongi’s chewing on his muffin, cheek puffed out, and brow lifted. “You’re drinking two?”   “Mhm…” He hums, not giving a direct answer.   Three minutes later and some small talk made, the hot drinks come out. Yoongi moves to the station to pour in his preferred creams and sugars while the other male is left staring motionlessly at the two cups in his hands. A worker stares at him, wondering if he’s a statue.   Hoseok stays completely still, staring, not blinking, like he’s transfixed or daydreaming about something else and no longer a part of reality.   His friend finally turns, confused at his bizarre behaviour. “Hoseok?”   “Why would she want coffee if she’s sick?” He mutters to himself and trashes the coffee in his left hand, letting it fall to the bottom of the garbage can.   “Hey.” Yoongi catches up with him as he walks off and whines, “That was perfectly good coffee. Why did you throw it? You could’ve given it to me.”   “No.”   “Are you okay?”   “I’m fine,” he brushes him off.   Except, he’s not. Jung Hoseok is going absolutely insane and at this rate, he might have to admit himself into the hospital to figure out what’s going on. He can’t concentrate on work at all. It’s like something is bothering him. He’s constantly looking up and out of his office like a hyperactive child or a criminal who’s fearful of the police. And it’s all because of you.   He stares every time you walk past his office towards the kitchen and it’s to the point where you have to ask if he’s okay, to which he tells you it’s nothing. A lot of people have been asking that lately — if he’s alright or not. Hoseok doesn’t know what the truthful answer is anymore.   Every little action you do, he has an overwhelming urge to watch. Every little word you say, he’s hanging onto every syllable. He frowns at how many times you sneeze, overhears you ask Inyoung where the tissue boxes are, and as your voice becomes more and more nasally as the day goes by, Hoseok gets driven more and more mad.   He feels like one massive creep. He feels absolutely pathetic. But he can’t stop and he’s going insane because of it. You’re like a fly circling around his head that he just can’t swat away or get rid of. The funny thing is….it’s not even you. It’s just thoughts of you.   “Hoseok!”   He jumps at the shout of his name, startled. His eyes stray off to the brunette man standing at his doorway with his arms crossed. “What? You scared me!”   “I called you five times. Are we going out to lunch or what?”   “Y-yeah...sorry.”   “Are you working on a difficult case?” Jimin tips his head to the side. “You seem so out of it.”   “I’m fine,” he repeats as if he’s trying to convince no one but himself.   The two men eat together in a quaint restaurant that serves lunch. Jimin insists that bonding time is necessary to maintain their relationship since they’re the foundation of the firm. Hoseok thinks that his partner is higher maintenance than an actual significant other.   Jimin orders his lunch and Hoseok makes his order as well, but before the waitress can skedaddle off to the kitchen, he stops her. “Could I actually get soup too? The chicken noodle. To go?”   “Certainly.”   “Soup?” Jimin asks him after she’s left and looks doubtful. “I thought you told me soup was watered down baby food.”   “It is,” the lawyer states confidently, masking his true intentions with an air of nonchalance.   Yet, Jimin is stubborn in nature and doesn’t give up so easily, especially when his curiosity is piqued. “Is it for you or someone else?”   “....None of your business.”   He’s amused at how childish his partner is being. The brunette lawyer threads his fingers together and props his hands under his chin, elbows to the table as he stares at the person across from him with mischief glimmering in his brown orbs. “Really? I think it is.”   “Me ordering soup is your business?”   “Your business is my business.” Jimin grins. “Since we run a business together.”   Hoseok sighs, leaning back in his seat. “Sometimes, I wonder why I chose you as my partner.”   “I chose you,” he reminds with a soft giggle. “And you love me.”   “Yeah, you’re right,” Hoseok admits with only a small ounce of sarcasm. “I love you and maybe we should just get married.”   “In your dreams.” His smile widens. “I’m expensive, you know. You won’t be able to keep up with me. My ass is out of your league.”   There’s bubbling laughter that leaves his chest. “You can’t say you’re expensive when you were part of a hugging club and wore a sign to hug random people on the street. I don’t even want to know what kind of diseases you contracted.”   He giggles too, eyes crinkling as he defends himself, “It’s not as bad as you. You used to kiss everyone!”   “On the top of their heads and on their foreheads.” Hoseok pouts, lips cutely downturning and jutting out. The two of them don’t care about the heads that turn to stare at them.   “Doesn’t make it any better!”   “Don’t you love my affection, Minnie? I love you, remember?”   “Please stop,” Jimin begs. The roles have completely reversed, tables have turned, and once more someone’s at Hoseok’s mercy. “Go back to being serious and weird, okay? Don’t act cute. It creeps me out.”   Hoseok quirks his head to the side and bats his lashes. “I thought you were the one who wanted to get married to me.”   “I never said that,” he points out. “No offence, but I can’t be with someone so nitpicky and naggy and overly organized.”   “So, you admit you live in a dump?”   “An expensive dump.”   They banter back and forth as usual until the food arrives. Halfway through the meal, the waitress comes back with his warm soup in a styrofoam container, plastic spoon and a napkin all prepared in the plastic bag. Jimin continues to talk about what’s been going on with his life, but Hoseok becomes distracted. He’s quiet, eyes staring at the object on the table beside him.   “No…” He shakes his head, muttering underneath his breath, barely being coherent. “No..it’s too weird.”   “What’s weird? Wait.” Jimin watches as his partner tears off the top of the container and begins chugging the soup. “You’re eating it? Right now?”   Hoseok doesn’t say a single thing, brooding to himself, ingesting it all while Park Jimin remains absolutely bewildered. When it’s empty, he wonders what the hell he just did. He’s an idiot. And now he’s too full to move.   12:46pm. Hoseok: Have you eaten yet?   12:46pm. Y/N: just finished 12:46pm. Y/N: why?   The lawyer lets out a sigh of relief, thankful that he didn’t end up giving it to you. It would’ve been unbearably awkward. He can imagine holding the bag out to you or leaving it on your desk, only for you to bring it back to him and tell him that you already had lunch.   12:47pm. Hoseok: nothing 12:48 pm. Hoseok: are you feeling better?   12:48pm. Y/N: im ok   12:48 pm. Hoseok: you can go home early 12:49 pm. Hoseok: if you need to   He sits on the edge of his seat, resisting the urge to nibble on his fingernails. He waits for a response and waits and waits. Hoseok can see the dots appearing on his screen signaling that you’re texting him back, but he wonders why it’s taking so long, and the anticipation grows and grows.   12:52 pm. Y/N: you’re not getting rid of me so easily   “Why are you smiling to yourself?” Jimin asks before sipping on his water and letting his narrow eyes pin onto the man past the rim of the glass. “And who are you texting?”   “No one.” Hoseok clears his throat, setting his phone down. He makes eye contact with the waitress who is preparing the bill.   “Uh-huh. Doesn’t seem like no one.”   “You’re acting like we’re really married.”   “If we are, I want a divorce.” They laugh, both divorce lawyers pretending to argue about the settlement and how to divide their assets while the waitress can’t conceal her mortified expression, believing that it’s legitimate.   Back at the firm, Hoseok beelines straight into his office when Lisa informs him there’s a client on the line. But Jimin hangs back and his eyes meet Yoongi’s who’s happens to be strolling around.   “Don’t you think he’s acting weird these days?”   “He’s always been weird.” Yoongi is at the copier, deciding to give Seulgi a break from having to make copies from him every five minutes. He fiddles with the buttons until the machine is whirring to life and spitting out the correct pages.   “But like...especially.”   “You don’t seem that concerned.”   And he isn’t. Jimin’s entertained. “No, I’m not.”   “He seems more panicked and anxious these days,” Yoongi insightful comments. “But happier.”   “I agree.” The lawyer nods and pats his employee on the back before leaving, eyeing your office as he makes his way to his own.   You and Jimin share a lot in common, but one of those things are that you two are the few that remember Hoseok as being very hyper and outgoing. It’s only work that turns his bright nature ten notches down and makes him serious. Jimin muses that his partner has been quite calm these past few years, but it seems like only you can get under his skin.   //   “Y/N? I..uh..stopped by—”   There’s no one in your office.   Hoseok waits in the small room for a second as an exhausted exhale leaves the seams of his lips. The work day is over. It’s five o’clock. But your belongings are still here, so you haven’t left yet. You’re not gone, but his timing wasn’t right — his timing is never right.   Reluctantly, he places the new tissue box that he bought on your desk, right in front of the keyboard. And the man lingers a few moments before walking out. A part of him feels uncomfortable. Hoseok wished he could’ve seen you one last time before leaving for the day.

[jtsodergren]

The Best of 2019

2019, what an exceptional year for movies! A great way to close out the shittiest decade! Here are the 50 best films I saw this year... click on the title to go to the IMDB page, and I’ll try to post a link to where you can see many of them. Also for the first time this year, I’m including MOM WARNINGS! My mom reads this list and sometimes actually watches these movies... so to save her some grief, sadness, or general concern for my psyche, there will be a NOT FOR MOMS!! warning where applicable... here we go!

50. STAR WARS - EPISODE IX: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER (Amazon)

People really hated this movie... I actually really liked it! Aside from the horses running around on the outside of spaceships (which makes no fucking sense... didn’t Leia get all space frozen exactly one movie ago??), it was a satisfying conclusion to a franchise I guess I don’t really care about as much as other people, so I was into it!

49. JOHN WICK: CHAPTER 3 - PARABELLUM (Amazon)

Quickly becoming one of the more well produced action franchises of all time. Probably two too many machine gun shootouts in this one for me (I get a little exhausted with gun violence), but the hand-to-hand stuff is brilliant and bloody and badass! Not to mention the deepening of the mythology and Halle Berry and her dogs. It’s a fun time, a welcome addition to the series, and I can’t wait for number 4.

48. QUEEN & SLIM (Amazon)

Billed as the black BONNIE AND CLYDE and from first time feature director Melina Matsoukas, this atmospheric tragedy is gorgeous to look at, delivers a pair of standout lead performances, and proves to have one of the more stressful final 30min of any of the films I saw this year, even if you know the inevitable conclusion is just around the corner.

47. UNDER THE SILVER LAKE (Amazon PRIME)

A wild Los Angeles noir story from the director of IT FOLLOWS. Plays like if David Lynch directed THE BIG LEBOWSKI, a weird, screwball whodunit. It’s a little long, and there are so many loose ends that seem to be thrown in just to fuck with the protagonist (and the audience), but it’s a really fun time and you’ll want to stay to the end to see it all play out. LA looks gorgeous too.

46. KNOCK DOWN THE HOUSE (Netflix)

Truly inspiring. Really shows how if you put your mind to something, believe in yourself and that you can make a difference, you can accomplish anything. Regardless of your political leanings, or how you feel about AOC personally, this is well worth your time and it has a great message for young people, especially those young women of color who might not think they can achieve great levels of success. It made me cry the happy tears.

45. LONG DAY’S JOURNEY INTO NIGHT (Amazon)

Best known for it’s remarkable 59min-3D final take, this hallucinatory journey through memory and dreams is mind-blowing and breathtaking. Hard not to leave this one feeling like you’ve been put though some kind of experiment that you don’t fully understand, but you’ll want to experience again. Highly recommended if you have access to 3D, or simply have some killer edibles and want to be thrown for a loop.

44. CLIMAX (Amazon PRIME)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

Speaking of being under the influence, holy shit is this film nuts! From Gaspar Noe, who if you’re aware of his work, you kind of already know what you’re in store for here. It’s been described as “FAME directed by the Marquis de Sade”... incredible dance sequences and audacious camerawork that slowly but surely devolves into hell. It’s a blast!

43. HAIL SATAN? (Hulu)

A fresh and funny documentary about a group of smartass Satanists exposing the hypocrisy amongst bible-thumping Christians who’d rather stomp their feet and be the loudest in the room than listen to anyone else’s perspective. Frustrating and entertaining in equal parts, this compulsively watchable film makes you want to scream at these Jesus freaks as much as you want to laugh along with the antics of these harmless, intelligent and organized troublemakers. An excellent time well spent.

42. FIRST LOVE (Amazon)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

Director Takashi Miike’s yakuza action-comedy is the most accessible of his films I’ve seen (he’s now made more than 100 movies, which is insane), but that doesn’t mean it’s not a gonzo wild time at the movies. The violence is here in full force, but unlike AUDITION or ICHI THE KILLER, you don’t need a barf bag close by to enjoy it. It’s often hilarious and moves at a breakneck speed. Super fun!

41. THE DEAD DON’T DIE (Amazon PRIME)

Jim Jarmusch’s star-studded, droll zombie-comedy came and went from theaters without much fanfare, but provided me with plenty of laughs. It’s also the second of 3 Adam Driver vehicles to be on this year’s list. Bill Murray and Driver lead the way along with plenty familiar faces in cameos throughout (including the RZA in one of my favorite scene’s of the year). Classic Jarmusch... a meditation on death and mortality in his vintage style.

40. EL CAMINO: A BREAKING BAD MOVIE (Netflix)

Dude, Aaron Paul is a legit GREAT actor. Picks up right where the show left off, and I was on the edge of my seat and filled with anxiety just like I was during the best moments of the now classic series. It was good to hang out with my old friends again.

39. DOCTOR SLEEP (Amazon)

A box office flop due to poor promotion and a title people weren’t familiar with, this sequel to THE SHINING is based on the Stephen King book of the same name, which I read, and I can’t recommend it more. Great suspense, and fantastic performances from both Ewan McGregor and (especially) Rebecca Ferguson. It’s a dark and scary film that is a fun trip back to the Overlook Hotel... provided you wish to return there...

38. THE LAST BLACK MAN IN SAN FRANCISCO (Amazon PRIME)

About 90min into this beautifully shot film I was ready to lock it in as a possible Top 5 contender. Then the bottom fell out for me the last quarter of the movie and lost my confidence. No bother, it’s still wonderful enough to find a spot on the list and carry my recommendation. Young men and women watching their city change before their eyes, and wondering what the concept of “home” really means is a real challenge facing many people here in the Bay Area. This film does a fantastic job conveying that, for most of the film anyway. 

37. THE PEANUT BUTTER FALCON (Amazon)

A bonafide crown-pleaser of a movie, and another example of the true talent Shia LeBeouf has and is capable of (more on him later). A young man with Down Syndrome escapes his assisted-living facility to track down his wrestling idol the Saltwater Redneck with the help of an outlaw and a social worker. Sweet, funny, and heartfelt... a feel good surprise.

36. A BEAUTIFUL DAY IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD (Amazon)

I didn’t cry nearly as much as I did during the excellent documentary WON’T YOU BE MY NEIGHBOR from last year, but if you’re a Mr. Rogers fan, you’ll still shed a few during this heartwarming film. Tom Hanks does his thing, and even though this movie is guilty of borrowing a little too much from the previous doc, it’s still a great showcase for the truly selfless and beautiful force of nature that Fred Rogers was. Bring tissues anyway.

35. CARMINE STREET GUITARS (In Theaters Now)

A love letter to both New York City and the art, joy, and love that goes into honing and maintaining one’s craft. Meanwhile the looming doom of gentrification hovers over the proceedings, never letting you get fully enrapt in the sweetness that these artists (and their many famous customers) exude when talking about and playing their one-of-a-kind works of art. A stunning and lovely piece for musicians and talentless fans of music alike.

34. HOLIDAY (Amazon)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

A tough, cold film with nary a character to actively root for... until after about an hour of icy behavior comes (no pun intended) a scene so shocking in its graphic and disturbing nature, people left the theater without staying for the final resolution. First time director Isabella Eklof pulls off the bold and audacious maneuver, all while making it seem like she doesn’t care whether you like her characters (or her film) at all. It’s a very fine balancing act, executed to perfection. But be warned... it’s rough.

33. AVENGERS: ENDGAME (Disney+)

What can I say? You saw it. It’s good. A bunch of Supermans fly around and blow shit up. A satisfying end (until the next 20 films).

32. MIDSOMMAR (Amazon Prime)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

A disturbing slow burn of a gothic horror film. Characters do hallucinogens while ritualistic religious murders and tribal mating practices threaten to ruin everyones existence. Florence Pugh is phenomenal (more from her in a minute) in a very trying roll. Doesn’t pack quite the punch of the director’s last film, HEREDITARY, but it’s still well worth the watch. But yeah, it’s disturbing.

31. APOLLO 11 (Hulu)

A fascinating look at the first moon landing from rarely seen archival footage and audio. Seeing it on the IMAX screen was intense and exhilarating, unlike narrative pictures like the severely overrated FIRST MAN. This isn’t my favorite documentary of the year, but it is an absolute lock to win the Academy Award for Best Doc of 2019. It’s a must see, a must experience.

30. HIGH LIFE (Amazon PRIME)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

French auteur Claire Denis’ bizarre, erotic sci-fi mindfuck about isolation and humanity is not for everyone, but is a brilliant take on the genre, and is yet another showcase for Robert Pattinson, who is quietly becoming one of my favorite working actors. Juliette Binoche also is on fire here and has what one critic calls “the single greatest one-person sex scene in the history of cinema.” So it has that going for it.

29. TRIPLE FRONTIER (Netflix)

A fully loaded heist film with no real bad guy, but instead a group of recognizable badasses in a Netflix-released action thrill ride. There’s absolutely no reason this should’ve worked, or even been half as good as it is, but boy is it good! Compulsively watchable, and rewatchable. If this were on Showtime as much as DEN OF THIEVES is I’d have seen it 30 times by now. It’s one of the most pleasant surprises of the year.

28. 1917 (Amazon)

An unbelievable visual achievement from cinematographer Roger Deakins and director Sam Mendes. The story isn’t the greatest war story ever told (are there great war stories?), but it’s shot to look like one continuous long take, sustained for 2hrs. It’s really an unbelievable feat, but doesn’t come off as gimmicky or distracting. It’s intense, beautifully staged, and sad. A big screen spectacle. 

27. TOY STORY 4 (Amazon)

Woody and the gang are back, and the films continue to keep the dust from collecting. It’s still so much fun to hang out with this group of misfit toys. There was talk that after the incredible TOY STORY 3 this was just a money grab and was labeled unnecessary, but I found it to be a sweet, charming, and nostalgic trip I was glad I took.

26. HONEYLAND (Hulu)

My pick for documentary of the year comes from the mountains of Macedonia, where a woman named Hatidze lives with her dying mother making a living cultivating honey. When a family of shitheads moves into a shanty next door, what seems like a fix for her lonely existence becomes catastrophic as they disregard her teachings and threaten her livelihood. I was an emotional wreck throughout the experience and it goes without saying it’s a must-see. Gorgeous and heartbreaking.

25. LITTLE WOMEN (Amazon)

I have never read the book, nor seen any of the film adaptations, so I went in blind to this lovely film. Director Greta Gerwig follows up the phenomenal LADYBIRD with this Altman-esque rendition of the widely beloved literary classic. I found it exceptional in its execution and performances, including the previously mentioned Florence Pugh, who is a knockout. A wonderful addition to the ever-growing stable of Christmas films I look to enjoy during future Decembers.

24. GREENER GRASS (Hulu)

It’s as if Tim & Eric made BLUE VELVET. Bizarre, outrageous, gross, and a guaranteed future midnight movie favorite. My sides hurt. A satire skewering upper-middle class suburban soccer moms and dads alike. Babies are given away. A boy turns into a dog. Everyone has braces. There’s a creep on the loose. It’s wild and flat-out hilarious literally from start to finish. Almost too many jokes to keep up with. Watch it! Bring weed. 

23. RELAXER (Amazon)

NOT FOR MOMS!!

Speaking of gross, this film is disgusting, but in a good way. A satire about lazy consumerism and self-destruction. It’s a short hang, thankfully, but if you can stomach it to the end (remember, it’s nasty) you’ll be rewarded with not only a hilarious dark comedy, but also an unexpected haymaker of sadness you didn’t see coming. It’s a pretty impressive feat, and an overall success. But, yeah, it’s fucking gross. 

22. AD ASTRA (Amazon)

APOCALYPSE NOW in space starring Brad Pitt. If you need more information than that, I don’t really know what else to do for you. 

21. SLUT IN A GOOD WAY (Amazon PRIME)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

A black-and-white raunchy French arthouse teen comedy that gives a middle finger to the double standard set by the equally raunchy teen-boys-will-be-boys genre. It’s so much fun, and honest, and the actors are such natural talents you forget the subject matter is at times shocking (only because of said double standard) and just go with it. I think it’s just wonderful. Seek it out!

20. US (HBO)

Jordan Peele’s excellent follow-up to GET OUT. Doppelganger home invasion terror with a killer twist. To describe more would be to risk giving something away. I’ll just say that Lupita Nyong’o is my pick to win her second Oscar, this time as Best Actress, here in a dual role. She’s incredible. If you haven’t seen it, try to go in blind, you’ll be rewarded.

19. THE FAREWELL (Amazon PRIME)

A heartfelt homecoming film about family, culture, and how the things we don’t say can be just as strong of a show of love as the things we do say. It’s sweet, tender, and bursting with personal flare and emotions from director Lulu Wang. Awkwafina also curbs her more manic and loud tendencies as a performer for more quiet, thoughtful, and somber choices. She’s phenomenal. 

18. KNIVES OUT (Amazon)

A clever ensemble whodunit that’s just as funny and smart as it is mysterious. Everyone across the board delivers as the assorted motley crew. The film rewards repeat viewings and Daniel Craig knocks it out of the park, stealing every scene he’s in, reminding us all what a fantastic actor he can be when he’s not sipping the Vespers. 

17. BOOKSMART (Hulu)

The female SUPERBAD is the elevator pitch, but this coming-of-age gem is really unlike any other example in the genre. They’re privileged, uber-smart, and have never partied. Yet they have the same neuroses as any other teen scared to death of what to do next or how to be normal. It’s also fucking hilarious. You wanna hang out with these girls and at the same time bury your head under the covers because you feel their pure terror/embarrassment. It’s a blast.

16. THE MUSTANG (Amazon)

Starring Matthias Schoenaerts, one of the finest actor’s working today, this understated and emotional drama about rehabilitation and redemption floored me upon first viewing. It is a gorgeous film. You’ve probably seen stories similar to this before, but rarely is one told with such compelling conviction. A borderline masterpiece. 

15. HONEY BOY (Amazon PRIME)

Remember a few years back we had the McConaissance, where everything Matthew McConaughey did was solid gold after years of middling bullshit? I’m calling it right now: Shia LaBeouf is about to have the same thing. He wrote the script and plays a version of his own father in a brutal version of his own fucked up childhood as an up-and-coming child actor. It’s heartbreaking and absolutely riveting. I’m hoping he gets an Oscar nod, but regardless I implore you to seek this film out, he’s incredible. 

14. MONOS (Hulu)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

A bizarre, bewildering, chaotic, and unsettling film. Some of the most beautiful photography I saw on the big screen this year, yet some of the most surreal and disturbing imagery as well. It’s a militarized, Latin American LORD OF THE FLIES with commentary on tribal behavior and violence. It can be a tough sit, but boy is it beautiful. 

13. DOLEMITE IS MY NAME (Netflix)

What a wonderful, welcome surprise! Eddie Murphy in an awards caliber performance as Rudy Ray Moore, the multi-hyphenate performer who created the alter ego Dolemite, spawning a film franchise and many legendary comedy albums. It’s obviously hilarious, and a great behind-the-scenes biopic, but also shockingly sweet and heartfelt, even between all the cuss words. I even teared up a couple times. The 3rd best thing Netflix released this year (more on that in a minute).

12. JOKER (Amazon)

You already saw this.

11. THE IRISHMAN (Netflix)

It’s far too long. It could’ve done with being cut as a three part miniseries or special. There’s about 45min worth of scenes that are quintessential DVD bonus features (I’m looking at you Action Bronson), but goddamn if it’s not Scorsese doing his Scorsese thing. It’s a gangster film, but it’s also a meditation on aging and death. Pesci is incredible and Pacino steals the show. Sure, the de-aging thing is distracting, the curb stomping scene is embarrassing. But still, I mean... IT’S MARTIN SCORSESE!

10. PAIN AND GLORY (Amazon)

Pedro Almodovar’s most personal work to date, a tale about making art and the loneliness of love. If you are unfamiliar with his work, this is a great jumping off point. His movies can be challenging and dark, but this film has such joy and hope amongst the heartache. The final reveal, while not earth shattering on paper, is nonetheless so moving it left the screening I attended without a dry eye in the place. It is his best film yet. 

9. THE LIGHTHOUSE (Amazon)

From the director of THE WITCH comes another type of gothic horror, this time with the legendary Willem Dafoe and the (already mentioned) brilliant Robert Pattinson marooned on a lighthouse rock alone to drive each other completely insane. It’s hallucinatory, violent, disorienting, and flat-out brilliant. If it weren’t for another guy we’ll get to in a minute, Dafoe would be a lock for Best Supporting Actor here. It’s a slightly challenging film, with the period style mariner dialogue, but it’s just as funny as it is terrifying.

8. JOJO RABBIT (Amazon)

A beautiful, touching, funny, crowd-pleasing comedy about a little Nazi whose imaginary friend is Hitler. Yep, your read that correctly. There are about a million reasons this should absolutely not work. Yet, it’s one of the best theater going experiences I had this year. A must see... ESPECIALLY with Mom!

7. MARRIAGE STORY (Netflix)

The best written and acted film of the year, and the third Adam Driver vehicle to appear here. Sad but honest. Touching but brutal. It’s awkward and a bit of a bummer, but there’s such great work being done here, in front of and behind the camera. Noah Baumbach is a force of nature, and has yet to make a film I was even iffy about. He’s the real deal and this might be his masterpiece. 

6. WAVES (Amazon)

Speaking of auteurs, Trey Edward Shults is now 3/3 on features after the brilliant KRISHA and IT COMES AT NIGHT. Here he follows a middle-class black family, led by a domineering father, through a tragic moment in all of their lives. The first half deals with the son’s story, then abruptly switches to the daughter’s life post said event. It shouldn’t work, yet somehow manages to be one of the most emotionally affecting pieces of art I saw this year. The camera never stops moving, constantly swirling and whirling and you can’t help to be sucked up into it. It’s a beautiful tragedy.

5. LONG SHOT (HBO)

The biggest and most pleasant surprise of the year. An opposites-attract rom-com with more brains, bite, social commentary, and laughs than it has any right to have. Easily the most fun you’ll have with (almost) the whole family... there’s a lot of cum jokes. But don’t let the vulgarity dissuade you! It’s a total riot with just the right amount of sweetness to balance out the saltiness. I love love love this movie.

4. THE ART OF SELF-DEFENSE (Hulu)

What starts as a strange, dark comedy morphs into a FIGHT CLUB-esque thriller with allusions to disturbingly toxic masculinity and an offbeat take on what it takes to “be a man.” It is laugh-out-loud hilarious, and expertly made, while really having something to say, and it says it in a way I’ve never really seen before. It’s not surprising this didn’t get more attention, the characters are truly difficult to relate to, let alone root for, but as far as originality goes, you’d be hard pressed to find anything this year much better than this. 

3. UNCUT GEMS (Amazon)

(Probably) NOT FOR MOMS!!

The cinematic equivalent of being locked in the brain of a lunatic having a cocaine-fueled anxiety attack. If that sounds like fun (AND IT IS!!!) then this is the film for you! Oh, and Adam Sandler is going to be nominated for an Oscar for Best Actor. For real. It’s a chaotic, stress-filled masterpiece.

2. ONCE UPON A TIME... IN HOLLYWOOD (Amazon)

My favorite filmmaker’s 2nd best film. A personal story about the love of film during the late 60s, a time of dirty hippies and Charles Manson, as well as the passing of the torch from old Hollywood to the “golden age” of cinema. It’s a fairytale of sorts, with Tarantino’s trademark flare for spontaneous violence and mining multiple genres to make his most mature work since PULP FICTION. I’ve been rewarded with new takeaways upon each subsequent viewing, and my love and appreciation for it only grows and grows. Brad Pitt is a lock for Best Supporting Actor, he’s magnificent. It was always going to be my #1 with a bullet no matter what, because it’s just that great...

1. PARASITE (Amazon)

...but then Bong Joon-ho, the master of new Korean cinema unleashed PARASITE. Not only is it the best film of 2019, it’s one of the best films I have ever seen. Like EVER ever. He is in such astonishing control of his craft it’s hard not to sit back and marvel and the sheer skill on display. You can be laughing one moment and then recoiling in horror during the same breath. He’s using multiple genre tropes, incredible set design, pitch perfect acting/writing, and such exquisite planning you can’t possibly know what’s in store for you from one scene to the next. It is an absolute masterpiece and if it doesn’t sweep every category it’s nominated for at this year’s Oscars, it’ll be a travesty. If you have even a passing interest in film as an art form, the power it can wield, and the messages it can convey, you owe it to yourself to see this film. It’s perfect.

Well, there it is. Thanks for reading any part of this. Now go see PARASITE. I love you.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Wrought Iron Machine (Part 13)

They arrive on Ember Island at precisely noon, it is as Azula has planned. The sun beats down with the fury Azula enjoys. On a balmy breeze the scent of mango and pineapple is carried. From a smoothie stall wafts even more fruity fragrances. It is nice to be on Ember Island again, it is one of the few corners of the world left untouched by the rapid industrialization.  Not that they will have time to enjoy themselves. They are there only to shoot their video. Still, the change of scenery does her well and she hopes that a few hours under the island sun will but a tan on her skin.

As she steps off of the ship, it still runs through her mind, the intrusion on her bath. It vexes her, she can’t afford to have her focus divided. But, since the encounter, she can’t put it out of her mind that people believe that she truly loves her brother. Somehow...there has to be some way of doing at least a little damage control. She pushes her mind to come up with something.

Anything.

She can kiss Mai or TyLee. But then she’d be a whore. She supposes that she doesn’t want to play with TyLee like that either, Agni forbid she returned the feelings. She can have Zuko flaunt his relationship with Mai more. But he already does that…

Oh Agni, did they think that he was some kind of slut?

Does it matter? Since when did it matter how others saw her? It did now that she had a career to think of and her sanity to keep. Where is a good plan when she needs it. She flops down onto a lawn chair, mulling it over as the camera crew set up.

“Hey, Azula!” TyLee shouts cheerfully, “while they set up do you want to take a walk by the water?”

Azula sighs, she doesn’t particularly want that, but TyLee’s eyes are so bright and sparkling that she can’t bring herself to say no. Perhaps a seaside breeze will help clear some of the stress whirring within her mind.

“It’s so nice to be back here.” TyLee declares.

Azula shrugs. “I suppose that it is.” She watches TyLee dig around in the sand for shells. She pulls a teeny one out and hands it to the former princess. “Now just what am I supposed to do with this?”

“Hmmm…” TyLee hums. A delighted grin lights up her face and she sntaches the shell back. She scampers the beach for more of them and fashions her finds to the ends of Azula’s hair. “There you go! Very pretty.”

“I’m not sure that they suit the aesthetic of our music mover, Ty.”

“I can paint them black.” TyLee beams.

Azula rolls her eyes, she supposes that it can’t hurt the mover too much to wear the silly shells, at least for the scenes that they are shooting on the beach and in the jungle. It is the least she can do for TyLee; the girl has been handling the scandals and the sometimes not quite savory sleeping conditions without even a ghost of a complaint. Of course she will take them out when they start filming on the rim of the volcano. They will undergo an entire costume change for that bit.

She watches TyLee dive into the water. Azula sighs, hoping that the girl would not be sopping wet when it came time to shoot the video. Her friend beckons her to come into the water but Azula waves her off. As TyLee makes use of the ocean water, Azula’s mind wanders.

She thinks that she knows how to approach the scandal. It is a risk, but if done right, they might be able to save some face. They will just have to weather an image twice as poor for a while. But it should work in the long run. Lately she hasn’t been thinking of the long term, it is what has gotten her into this mess and she chides herself for it in the same way she used to chide Zuko for it. For his impulsiveness.

Now all she has to do is decide how to work her plan into an already thematically experimental album.

“They’re all set up, Azula.” Zuko interrupts her thoughts.

“TyLee!” Azula shouts. The girl looks up and comes bolting to the shore. “Dry off, we’re about to start.” She’d tell them of her plan after they finish shooting. She doesn’t want to raise tensions before the first shot nor between sets.

Dressed in full Sun Warrior attire they bring a sound Azula is certain no one has ever produced before. She has heard various types of folk and metal hybrids. But she doesn’t recall ever hearing a band try to combine tribal instruments with the metal scene. Especially a style of metal that is so wildly heavy.

It will be the first of its kind.

It will be memorable.

They need to be memorable.

And for something worth being remembered.

Halfway through shooting on the beach, Azula finds herself thankful for the plethora of shells in her hair. The clicking of them when she tosses her head back, adds something to the performance.

Somehow it feels more primitive. More in tune with the show she is trying to put on.

It is interesting to see TyLee working with tribal drums instead of her usual drum set. But the girl’s practice has paid off. She is as natural with them as Azula is with her fire--which she uses generously when they move from the beach to the jungle.

Space is tighter between the trees and she has to look out for low hanging palm fronds when tossing her blue flames about. This is the first time she has truly used her firebending for entertainment purposes. Up until then she left the pyrotechs to Zuko, deciding that the warm hue of his flames suited their shows better. For the deep jungle part of the video though, she wanted a cooler mystical aura. The kind that her flames crafted well.

Mai seems to have the easiest time, mostly her job is to headbang in the background, with a guitar in hand. Mai played the part of the silent shaman. Her guitar had a costume of its own; it would pose as her shaman’s staff. All Mai had to do was stand at the center of the circle of incense burners and play.  

.oOo.

As she had planned, they begin shooting on the volcano’s rim at sundown. And if she has things timed exactly right, they will finish when the sky is a deep indigo, not yet night but far from day.

The volcano is billowing smoke, just active enough for the lava to churn and bubble below. But passive enough to allow for a safe shooting. It is the atmosphere she desires. As close to it as she can get anyhow, without running the risk of being roasted alive for her music mover. Agni knows how adamant Zuko had been about not needing anymore of his body and face charred. At least her brother is trying to make light of his own misfortunes, it is better than she can say for herself.

TyLee does not join them on the rim of the volcano, its surface is too narrow, jagged, and bumpy for their drummer to be even remotely safe up there. Despite TyLee insisting that she is quick and balanced enough to be safe, Azula can’t say the same of the her equipment. They can’t afford new drums either, especially since she had TyLee’s set custom and handmade by Ember Island natives--more specifically the descendants of the original Sun Warriors.

It is the very reason for their tight music mover budget. Azula refuses to let that money burn away in a flare of hissing lava.

So TyLee’s shots take place near the base of the volcano, where the rocks jut out with just enough space to form a ledge for her to safely play on. Azula will find a way to splice those clips in once their filming has been accomplished.

For the first time in a long while, Azula comes out satisfied with her performance. With all of their performances. Based upon the lively chatter of their camera and set crew, she’d say that they agreed.

Pehpas if they had the funding they’d be drinking smoothies with a shot of fire whisky on the beach. The sky wears a full cloak of black and glowing silver by the time they arrive back on the beach. The tides are high and Azula can hear the native folk making their own steel drum music.

“Can we check them out Azula?” TyLee asks batting those big brown-grey eyes. “Please.”

Azula gives a soft sigh. “I suppose you all worked hard today...”

With a grin, TyLee is darting in the direction of the band before Azula can even finish. Mai takes Zuko’s hand as they follow along. Azula figures that it will be nice to watch a show instead of preform in it, even if the music isn’t quite her taste. They have worked hard and it will do her well to have this before she drops the news that they will be prolonging their stay to shoot another video on Ember Island.

[jack-katz]

ORIGINS & FAMILY:

Name: John David Katz

Nickname: Jack

Birthday: December 18th

Age: 28

Gender: Male

Place of Birth: New York, NY, USA

Places Lived Since: Washington, DC; Chicago, IL, USA; New York, NY, USA; London, UK

Current Residence: Hackney Wick, Hackney, London, UK

Nationality: American

Parents: Benjamin Katz & Mary Katz (née Doyle)

Grandparents: Eliezer Katz & Ruth Katz (née Geller); John Doyle & Niamh Doyle (née Murphy)

Aunts & Uncles: David Katz, Ava Aoun (née Katz); John Doyle, Sean Doyle, Michael Doyle

Number of Siblings: One - Daniel Katz

Relationship With Family: Jack is on very good terms with his family and especially his parents who’ve always supported him throughout his career. They’ve rarely been the type of parents to scream or shout, but they convey their disappointment in ways that can break their children’s hearts. He used to be closer to his Dad’s family because of proximity, but since moving to London it’s been easier to go back and forth to Connemara to finally really get to know his Irish grandparents and uncles.

Happiest Memory: The bow he took at the end of his first school performance.

Childhood Trauma: None, aside from some sadly expected bullying whenever he moved to a new city that was usually targeted at his lankiness, love of the arts, and Jewish heritage.

PHYSICAL:

Height: 6′0″

Weight: 160 lbs

Build: Slim, usually bordering on just plain skinny but he has been known to build up some lean muscle either for a role or because he’s made a sudden sweeping decision to get into better shape.

Hair Color: Dark Brown

Usual Hair Style: It varies depending on what stage of growth it’s at. When trimmed short, it’s fairly neat and looks good. It grows fast, though, faster than he can usually keep up with so it starts to get curly and out of control usually every couple months and he’s yet to figure out how to really get it under control. Sometimes the stars align and it looks good on its own, but most times he just wakes up with a really bad hair day and decides it’s the day to go to the barber.

Eye Color: Green

Glasses? Contacts?: No need for them currently, though his eyesight has definitely gotten a bit worse over the last couple years

Style of Dress/Typical Outfit(s): Very casual unless it’s something someone else picked out for him. A lot of graphic tee’s and old flannels and jeans that only fit properly with a belt and some pretty beat up sneakers. The belt never matches the shoes and he has two sweatshirts he tends to wear - dark navy and black so it can be hard to tell which one is which. He’s anything but a fashion icon, though at the very least he does his laundry on a decent schedule so his clothes are always clean - just not always very stylish.

Typical Style of Shoes: Sneakers about 90% of the time, hiking boots and flip-flops often when on vacation, and occasionally loafers for fancy events.

Jewellery? Tattoos? Piercings?: No tattoos or piercings. Whenever he gets a great idea for a tattoo he always seems to have a role coming up and doesn’t like to take any bodily risks around that time.

Unique Mannerisms/Physical Habits: When he gets really nervous or anxious he tends to drum his fingers on his leg or together to try to get out some of the nervous energy.

Athleticism: When it comes to genuine contact sports like rugby and American football, Jack isn’t that good. Running based sports, however, he’s not that bad at, though he only likes to play for fun. He enjoys soccer/football and actually doesn’t mind going for runs when he’s trying to get in shape. In high school he’d sometimes just show up to the soccer field during practice times and play around until the coach got mad at him for not being a real player and kicked him off the field. Theater was always his main focus in high school, anyway.

Health Problems/Illnesses: None, aside from potentially very high cholesterol in his future.

INTELLECT:

Level of Education: Most of high school completed but no diploma.

Languages Spoken: English fluently and natively, Spanish almost fluently from middle school and high school classes, and some Hebrew and Gaelic he picked up from his parents. Also bits of conversational vocabulary from a handful of languages in places he’s visited like French, Italian, German, Czech, and Japanese. He’s very, very good at picking up languages through context and immersion, but he hasn’t taken real classes or spent long enough in each places to really learn the language beyond basic conversational things.

Level of Self-Esteem: It varies from day to day but can be sadly very low during slower times in his career.

Gifts/Talents: Acting is truly a talent and one that Jack possesses as much as he tries to insist it’s really not that hard; artistic ability like drawing and painting which is less polished than acting but still a natural gift; the ability to pick up on languages very quickly; singing and dancing talent that is perhaps not absolutely outstanding but naturally good and can be improved with lessons leading up to a show.

Mathematical?: Not really, as Jack’s passions have always lied more with humanities and creative outlets.

Makes Decisions Based Mostly On Emotions, or On Logic?: Emotions, or he’d probably have his high school degree right now.

Life Philosophy: Do what makes you happy.

Religious Stance: Jack would call himself a Catholic but also considers himself a bit agnostic but never would consider himself to any point have been an atheist. He also enjoys learning about Judaism from his father and father’s family, even if he never had a bar mitzvah or went to Hebrew school. He did receive the Catholic sacraments up through Confirmation but his mother was never terribly, terribly adamant about him being brought up Catholic and she always encouraged him and his brother to explore Judaism and other religions as well. His parents, though both dedicated to their own religions, were very liberal and open as both people and parents so they encouraged a very open attitude in their sons toward religion. If Jack ever had more time and energy on his hands to really dive deep into religion and his personal beliefs, he might, but it’s not something he feels particularly inclined to do at this point in his life.

Cautious or Daring?: Daring in his creative exploits and travels, but cautious in basic day to day activities and interactions.

Most Sensitive About/Vulnerable To: Criticisms about his work.

Optimist or Pessimist?: He’s optimistic for other people and pessimistic about himself.

Extrovert or Introvert?: Introverted, bordering on ambivert.

RELATIONSHIPS:

Current Relationship Status: Single

Sexual Orientation: Bisexual

Past Relationships: 

Eloise Pelletier - his first girlfriend in middle school. The relationship lasted a month, but they were each other’s first kiss and have remained friends to this day. Eloise is now an accomplished stage actress and aspiring director.

Riley Huizar - his high school girlfriend. The two started dating around homecoming his sophomore year and stayed together for about two-and-a-half years, but Riley dumped him after a series of disappointments including: he missed their second anniversary for an audition, he missed a long-planned nice dinner date to attend a stand-up show, and she learned he wasn’t going to get his diploma. It was a messy ending that came when they were both drunk at a friend’s house and the two never spoke again afterward.

Lillie Piasta - dated for two out of the three seasons Jack was on SNL. She was one of the female writers for the show who was a few years older and Jack never quite realized that the reason she never seemed older was because she was pretty immature. She dated younger men fairly consistently and people tried to warn Jack that after a couple years of the whining and tantrums from the woman who, for all her humor, had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth and been spoiled her entire life. Even though she’d been working longer than Jack she expected him to pay for everything and wanted lavish gifts that he caved to at first but stopped after realizing it was a waste when she never used or wore anything. Lillie was fired from SNL shortly before Jack chose to leave to pursue a movie career, and she wanted to move with him to London but he wasn’t ready to move in. She dumped him at the airport before he left.

Natasha Laris - dated for one year after Jack officially moved to London. Jack was a guilty pleasure fan of love at first sight stories but never quite believed it could happen. He still doesn’t think love at first sight is real, but he believes sparks at first sight are real and stronger than he ever anticipated since he met Natasha. The two met  through a friend at a fundraising party Natasha had organized on behalf of a charity she worked for. It wasn’t ultra ritzy like a lot of other fundraising galas Jack had been to or heard about, but still elegant and enjoyable. Natasha just had a way of making everything elegant and enjoyable. Jack doesn’t remember asking her out because he believes the nerves caused him to just black out for the thirty seconds it took to ask and receive a positive response. They both fell pretty hard and fast but it was over the holidays when they both had some downtime and real time off. Then life picked up again. Jack had filming commitments, Natasha had a lot on her plate helping to run a decently sized charity with hardly enough staff. They saw each other when they could, but it only got more difficult over the months to find extended time alone together unless they were away on vacation - of which they only went on two brief ones as that was all they could manage. By the next Christmas, while struggling to figure out how they were going to spend the holidays after promises to meet each other’s families, they realized it just wasn’t feasible. It wasn’t just the holidays that weren’t feasible, but being together at such a busy and overworked time in their lives. Jack has only seen her once since they broke up, a couple years later - with a boyfriend who he was told by a friend worked a 9 to 5 office job, weekends off and the opportunity to work from home, and had a set amount of vacation time to use at his own discretion. It was the only time he ever envied an office job.

Primary Reason For Being Broken Up With: Forgetfulness, not committed enough, and his schedule was too hectic.

Primary Reasons For Breaking Up With People: A hectic schedule.

Ever Cheated?: No, it’s something he doesn’t understand.

Been Cheated On: No.

Level of Sexual Experience: Experienced even if he might not seem it. He lost his virginity in high school to Riley and since then has always had a healthy, active sexual relationship with whatever girl he’s been with. Since breaking up with Natasha it’s the longest he’s ever gone without having a girlfriend, but between Riley and Lillie there was still enough time that he had a couple short flings and some one-night stands that were usually enjoyable even if not serious. He sees the benefits in fun in both long-term relationships and short flings. After Natasha he went through a lengthy dry spell of his own volition but for the last four years has mostly just had flings that last anywhere from a single night to a few weeks and are always fun. He does know in his head how many women he’s slept with but it’s not something he’d ever like to broadcast and only his closest friends who’ve known him for years know the extent of his sexual experience and exploits.

Story of First Kiss: Eloise and Jack both lied to their parents and said play practice lasted a half hour longer than it actually did so they could spend time together alone behind the school theater. For twenty-nine minutes all they did was hold hands and talk until Eloise heard her dad’s truck around the corner. Jack snuck in a quick kiss and went to sleep that night on cloud nine.

Story of Loss of Virginity: Riley’s parents were always far more trusting of Jack than he ever expected them to be and would constantly leave Riley and Jack alone together at the house while they were out at work or going out on dinner dates. Jack didn’t push Riley at all, though he was ready whenever she was. She let him know she was ready when she pulled out a whole list of things that needed to happen beforehand, as was her way with most things. She was going to see an OB-GYN that specialized in adolescent care, look into birth control and whether there were options that were safe for a sixteen year old (though she’d already done her own research and knew the pill was the best option), and regardless of whether she went on the pill or not, Jack needed to buy some condoms. Jack was so nervous about the condoms he made his friend Avi go in and buy them, mostly because he was always more confident than Jack. Despite all the strict rules and guidelines and plans in the months leading up to Jack and Riley actually having sex, the night itself was still kind of special to Jack and he quickly became even more comfortable with buying his own condoms after realizing what all the fuss was about.

A Social Person?: Not really.

Most Comfortable Around: His family and closest friends, of which there are about a handful between the USA and UK.

Oldest Friend: Toby Hartman, his best friend from NYC who lived next door to the Katz’s first apartment in the city. He’s currently a doctoral candidate at NYU who lives with Daniel Katz in the two-bedroom flat Jack owns in NYC.

How Does He Think Others Perceive Him?: Jack thinks others perceive him as having an equal number of failings as accomplishments and thus is just a mediocre human being who just happened to be in some largely broadcast shows and movies. He knows his family has high opinions but thinks the public doesn’t have a very high opinion, mostly because he only focuses on the negative reviews of his works. 

How Do Others Actually Perceive Him?: Jack Katz is an accomplished young man who maybe got lucky that he was int he right comedy club on the right night, but it wasn’t luck that he was funny enough to catch the right people’s attention. Everything since then hasn’t but just luck but has also been a testament to his talent and willingness to do whatever and move wherever for his work. Even if he’s not flashy with his money, he’s no doubt made quite a bit.

SECRETS:

Life Goals: Do work that makes him happy and that others find enjoyable, maybe even inspiring.

Dreams: Travel to every country in the world, become fluent in a new language, write a full script, direct a movie, perform in a Shakespeare play, finally learn to cook at least one decent dish, own a restaurant, and many others that come and go with the days that pass.

Greatest Fears: Forgetting a line during a live performance.

Most Ashamed Of: There were a couple jokes Jack tried out during his early days in comedy that crossed a line but thankfully never even made it to a real set. He just tried them out on his family, and their response was enough for him to hope no one ever learned of those jokes he thought up when he was younger and more inexperienced. There are also many minor mishaps that have occurred during rehearsals and conversations that, though not necessarily shameful, are very embarrassing and he tends to remember as being more extreme than they really were.

Secret Hobbies: It might not be that secret, but Jack really enjoys video games. He’s not as good as he wishes, but they’re fun.

Crimes Committed (Was he caught? Charged?): None, aside from some truancy.

DETAILS/QUIRKS:

Night Owl or Early Bird?: Night owl

Light or Heavy Sleeper?: Heavy sleeper

Favorite Animal: Dogs

Favorite Foods: Anything greasy

Least Favorite Food: Iceberg lettuce

Favorite Book: “Audition” by Michael Shurtleff

Least Favorite Book: “The Catcher in the Rye”

Favorite Movie: Pulp Fiction

Least Favorite Movie: The Emoji Movie

Favorite Song: Empire State of Mind by Jay-Z & Alicia Keys

Favorite Sport: Soccer/football

Coffee or Tea?: Coffee

Crunchy or Smooth Peanut Butter?: Smooth

Type of Car He Drives: N/A, he’s never had a car and doesn’t have a license

Lefty or Righty?: Lefty

Favorite Color: Green

Cusser?: Yes

Smoker? Drinker? Drug User?: Smokes when he’s drinking sometimes and others he’s with have cigarettes; drinks daily, though not to excess daily; occasionally uses drugs but usually just pot

Biggest Regret: Passing up on some more serious drama roles in the past

Pets: None

[banshee-cheekbones]

Shane/Ryan - forehead kiss?

In which Ryan gets very drunk at a work function, tries to determine exactly what is causing his hallway to sway alarmingly (spoiler alert, it’s not ghosts), and makes out with Shane for the first time, in that order.

warnings for heavy drinking (although it’s nothing too over the top) and mild emetophobia (it’s a pretty vague scene, but still, please be cautious). 

~2k, on ao3 here.

the mysterious case of the swaying hallway. 

As soon as Ryan stumbles out of the elevator, Shane half a step behind him, he realizes that there’s something odd about the corridor leading to their apartment.

Even though they’re definitely on dry land, the hallway has a distinct sway to it, like it’s suddenly been transported onto a cruise ship rocking on the waves of the ocean. The carpet is undulating gently, and Ryan pauses so that he can prod it with his toe, see if that will make it stay still.

“Shane,” he says, pausing again and frowning, because Shane’s name feels somehow different in his mouth, like it has six syllables more than usual or like it’s wholly new to him. He forces himself to ignore it for the time being so that he can continue. “Do you see what the carpet is doing?”

“S’not doing anything,” Shane answers, bumping into Ryan’s side, which just makes the hallway sway faster. “C’mon, I wanna go home.”

“But the carpet,” Ryan protests even as he follows after Shane. He can’t seem to get a sure footing on the ground, so he throws one arm around Shane’s waist for balance and leans into his side.

Shane’s reply is a little garbled, but Ryan thinks that he hears, “You can investigate tomorrow,” which is a fair enough point. He doesn’t have anything to do tomorrow; there’s no raucous work parties to attend, no work at all. It’s just going to be another beautiful Sunday, spent with his best friend and roommate.

He’s sure that he can pencil in ten minutes for investigating the carpet. Maybe after lunch.

By the time they make it to their door, Ryan’s head has come to rest against Shane’s arm, and he’s reluctant to move away; the fabric of Shane’s sweater is soft against his cheek, and the extra point of contact seems to make it easier to keep his balance on the swaying floor. Thankfully, Shane uses his other arm to unlock the door, and Ryan keeps a hold on him until they’re inside and he has to kick his shoes off into the hall closet.

“Did you see Steven?” Ryan yells at Shane’s back as he wanders off into the kitchen. It takes him a few attempts to get the question out, mainly because he keeps getting distracted by undoing the numerous buttons on his coat.

Strangely enough, he doesn’t remember wearing a coat when they arrived at the party. Even more strangely, he doesn’t think he’s ever owned a silver coat in his entire life.

Shane yells back an acknowledgment before he comes back into the hallway, holding a glass of water, his own shoes apparently discarded somewhere on his journey to the kitchen and back.

“He’s gonna be so fucked tomorrow,” Shane says, taking a great, slurping gulp before he turns down their other hallway, the one that leads to their bathroom and respective bedrooms. There’s a suspicious thud a few seconds later, followed by a wheezing laugh.

“Oh, definitely.” Ryan finally manages to shuck out of the strange jacket, throws it into the closet, and stumbles down the hallway to the bathroom. Before he closes the door, he yells, “But that’s Adam and Andrew’s problem.”

“You’re a problem,” Shane retorts, like he’s a goddamn five year old, and Ryan rolls his eyes as he shuts the door.

Getting his contacts out and brushing his teeth takes an absurdly long time, primarily because whatever was making the hallway sway is also affecting the bathroom. Once his contacts are out, Ryan does everything else with his eyes closed, which seems to help a little, but he can’t help but frown down at the shifting tiles before he heads back into the hallway.

There’s definitely something weird going on.

Maybe the apartment block is built on a ley line.

His bedroom is right next to the bathroom, and strangely enough, not only is the door open, but the light is on. When he steps inside, he discovers that Shane is sprawled out face first on his mattress with his face shoved into Ryan’s favorite pillow. One of his socked feet is hanging just over the edge, and for a moment, Ryan plays with the idea of either tickling it or grabbing it and dragging Shane off the bed.

But after a few moments of careful contemplation, he realizes that’s either going to result in him getting kicked somewhere very uncomfortable or possibly throwing his damn back out, so instead, he settles for dropping down in the tiny bit of available space between the wall and Shane’s side.

“Get out of my bed, asshole,” he grumbles, poking Shane in the ribs. He doesn’t have to move very far to do it; even with his back pressed against the wall, Shane is still so close that he can feel the heat pouring off him. “You’ve got your own.”

“Yeah, but yours is better.” Shane slowly lifts his head out of the pillow and flashes him a lopsided grin. His glasses are crooked, and Ryan clumsily paws them off Shane’s face and leans over so that he can drop them on the nightstand; the last thing he needs is Shane somehow managing to smash the lens when he inevitably drops his face back into the pillow.

“Why’s mine better?” he asks, flopping back against the mattress. Objectively, it’s not even true; Shane’s bed is way more comfortable, has a memory foam topper that’s like sinking into a marshmallow, and it’s massive.

He doesn’t have quite enough pillows, but still. No one’s perfect.

“’Cause you’re in it. Obviously,” Shane answers with a slight frown, like he’s vaguely disappointed in Ryan for not already knowing the answer.

Warmth leeches up Ryan’s neck, into his cheeks, and down into his very brain itself.

“Oh,” he says. His head is so warm that he feels dizzy, but the window is on the other side of the room, and he doesn’t think he could stand back up even if he tried. Shane is staring at him with a dazed grin, eyes wide, looking so damn handsome that Ryan kind of wants to bury his face under a pillow, because looking at him for too long is just bound to make his brain hurt even more. But there’s a logic test he wants to apply to Shane’s statement, so instead of burrowing under a pillow, he asks, “So if I was in your bed, would your bed be better?”

Shane nods rapidly, stubbly cheek rasping against Ryan’s pillowcase.

“Now you’ve got it.” After a moment, with what seems a titanic amount of effort, he rolls onto his side, so that he’s fully facing Ryan, and slides over an inch or so, minimizing the already minimal space between them. Ryan abruptly realizes that his own back is no longer flush with the wall, that at some point, he shifted closer, so that their legs are mere inches away from touching.

Perhaps he should be concerned about that, but he’s fairly sure he’s had a dream like this.

Or two dreams. Six. A dozen. Whatever. It’s not like anyone is counting.

Shane’s brows scrunch together in concentration, but before Ryan can ask what he’s thinking about, Shane leans forward and very carefully presses his lips to Ryan’s forehead, square in the middle.

The heat filling Ryan’s brain ticks up by at least ten degrees.

Even after Shane leans away, Ryan can still feel the imprint of his lips on his skin, like he left a smear of lipstick behind.

“Uh,” Ryan says as his eyes drop down to Shane’s mouth, which is parted just enough to show a sliver of teeth.

“Yep,” Shane agrees, although what he’s agreeing to, Ryan doesn’t really know. He laughs a little, spindly fingers twisting into the sheets only an inch away from Ryan’s stomach. For a moment, Ryan finds himself transfixed by their movements, but then Shane makes another quiet sound, like a wistful sigh, and Ryan’s eyes shoot back up to where Shane is staring at him, cheeks flushed red, dark eyes wide.

Ryan blinks.

Shane blinks.

They both move.

They crash together.

For a few minutes, about all Ryan can say with any certainty is that they’re making out; their limbs are so thoroughly entangled together that it’s hard to say where one of them ends and the other begins. They’ve simply blurred together, like watercolors.

Eventually, when he has to pull away to suck some air into his neglected lungs, he’s able to get his bearings. He’s in the middle of the mattress, and Shane is resting heavily between his splayed apart legs, pressed down against him in half a dozen spots. Both of Ryan’s hands are underneath Shane’s sweater, fingers spread wide across his back, and Shane is blinking down at him, pupils blown, mouth curving into a grin that Ryan can’t help but mirror.

He’s definitely had dreams that started like this.

“Hey, Ryan?” Shane asks, sliding his huge hands under Ryan’s shirt to rest on his stomach.

“Yeah, buddy?” Ryan gasps, pressing up into the warmth and breadth of Shane’s palms.

Shane’s grin grows a little more before he abruptly freezes, goes as stiff as a plank underneath Ryan’s fingers.

“I think I’m going to throw up.”

Before Ryan can say a thing, Shane jumps off the bed in a flurry of limbs and lopes out the door. A few seconds later, on the other side of the wall, Ryan hears a loud thud that sounds suspiciously like someone crashing into a door frame, followed by a quieter thud that might be someone dropping to their knees on the ground.

Ryan’s pretty sure that the nicest thing to do would be to get up and see if Shane’s alright, but frankly, it kind of feels like he’s melted into the mattress, so he settles for banging on the wall instead.

“Do you need some help?” he yells. The volume of his own voice is so unexpectedly loud that he winces.

“No!” Shane calls back. That’s followed by some sounds that Ryan doesn’t want to think about, let alone listen to, so he drags a pillow over his face, tries his best to block them out and turns his attention back to the problem of the swaying hallway.

By the time Shane stumbles back into the room and turns the light off, Ryan has discounted eight different theories and is on the brink of falling asleep. Shane drops ungracefully down onto the mattress, half on top of Ryan, and when he rolls onto his side, a series of cold water droplets spray into Ryan’s arm.

“Your hair is soaked,” Ryan grumbles, pulling the pillow off his face. When he inhales, he smells citrus and mint, shower gel (his shower gel, more specifically) and toothpaste. “And you smell good.”

“I hate Eugene,” Shane groans, throwing an arm over Ryan’s waist and dropping his head to Ryan’s chest. Immediately, his hair soaks Ryan’s shirt. “This is all his fault.” Ryan nods in agreement and wraps one arm around Shane’s shoulders, which are also damp. He’s pretty sure that as soon as he stops actively trying to stay awake, he’s going to pass out, but there’s one more thing he needs to say, before he forget.

“You know we gotta talk about this in the morning, right?” he asks. Shane nods and twists to press a kiss to Ryan’s chest, right above his heart, a kiss so unexpected that it feels like Ryan’s been gut-punched.

“Yeah. Morning. We’ll talk about all this. But I’m gonna die if I don’t sleep.”

“Alright.” Ryan turns to press a kiss into Shane’s dripping wet hair and closes his eyes. “Don’t throw up on me.”

“I won’t. Shut up. Gotta sleep.”

“Shutting up now. Goodnight, buddy.”

If Shane answers, Ryan is asleep before he hears it.

[poisonedfortunecookie]

shance month - day 29 - Pamper 

-

Lance is adamant that Shiro needs to relax. Shiro is too tried to refuse. 

-

“You need to relax,” Lance said sharply.

“What I need is to defeat Zarkon and free the universe from Galra control, then I can relax,” Shiro sighed. It was an old argument, but ever since Lance had become the right hand of Voltron, it was one he was having more frequently.  

Lance had never been afraid to challenge Shiro's leadership or question decisions he saw as poor, but now he seemed just as concerned for Shiro's physical well-being as well as his integrity.

It was nice, to know someone cared enough to nag him about such things but it was also exhausting.

“And how do you plan to do that if you collapse from exhaustion?” Lance said smartly.

“Come on Shiro, even Keith tried to take time off to go for a swim,” Lance huffed remembering their disastrous attempt at visiting the A pool.

“I still don't get why it was on the ceiling what gives?” Lance muttered to himself. The pool was still a sore point for him.

Squaring his shoulders, Lance met Shiro with a sharp, stubborn glare.

“Now,” he commanded. He grabbed Shiro by the shoulders and marched him away from the empty bridge. Shiro could have fought back, all he had to do was dig his feet in, and Lance wouldn't be able to force him to go anywhere. But Shiro was tired, and if he went along with things just this once and proved to Lance that he didn't need to ‘relax’ then maybe Lance would finally give up.

“First put this on,” Lance ordered when they got to his room. He shoved a pair of black pyjamas into Shiro’s hands and moved over to his bed to grab his own.

“Where did you get these?” Shiro asked looking down at the black and silver paladin pyjamas that matched Lance's blue ones.

“Same place I got mine. These pyjamas are so comfortable you'd have a better nights sleep if you wore them.”

Shiro didn't bother to mention that on the occasions he did sleep he preferred to sleep in his underwear, as he found any clothing too restrictive in bed. It was not something Lance needed to know.

He made no move to change and instead he watched Lance as the other stripped out of his clothes and tossed them on the floor revealing an endless expanse of glowing bronzed skin and long elegant limbs. Shiro winched as he caught sight of the gnarled skin on Lance back, a reminder of how close Shiro had come to losing one of his team, only moments after they'd arrived. The scar was soon covered by Lance's pyjamas, but Shiro could still see it. He could never forget the sight of it.  

“Why aren't you dressed yet?” Lance demanded, turning around to face Shiro.

“Uh,” Shiro floundered, clutching the pyjamas tighter he worried he'd been caught staring.

“I can leave the room if you want some privacy," Lance added more gently and full of understanding.

“No. It's fine,” Shiro turned around to face the wall and got changed. He could hear Lance moving around behind him, keeping busy so Shiro wouldn't feel like he was being watched.

When Shiro turned around again, Lance had set a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor, and a collection of pots and bottles set to one side nearby.

“Take a seat,” Lance said with a grin. He sat down near the pots and patted the pillow next to him Shiro did as he was told very gingerly, he felt more than a little foolish sitting on the floor on top of a pile of pillows.

“First we apply the face mask,” Lance said picking up one of the pots beside him.

“Close your eyes" he instructed, and Shiro listened. Well, he'd come this far he may as well see it through to the end.

Lance slathered the goo over Shiro's face, and Shiro tried not to recoil at the wet slimy sensation.

“It tingles, is it meant to tingle?” Shiro asked.

“Yes, that means its working. It's when it starts burning you need to worry.”

Shiro's eyes snapped open. “What?!”

Lance was grinning at him eyes shining with laughter. “Shiro relax this stiff has been tried and tested on my beautiful skin. I would use something that might damage it."

Shiro scowled. “You know it's hard to relax when you make jokes like that.”

“Sorry, sorry," Lance chuckled and scooped up some more goo on his fingers, “now close your eyes again please, I'm almost done.”

When Lance finished, Shiro was given strict instructions not to touch the mask while Lance applied the goo to his own face. That done Lance fixed the lid back on the pot and swapped it for one of the small bottles.

“Give me your hand,” he held out his own hand expectantly. Shiro hesitated looking at his Galra hand and then his flesh one.

“I'm not the engineering genius Pidge and Hunk are, I only know how to deal with skin,” Lance said softly, apologetically. Shiro gave a small smile of understanding and placed his human hand in Lance's hand.

Lance tipped a few drops from the bottle on the back of Shiro's hand, set the bottle down and then used the fingers of both hands to massage the oil into Shiro's skin. His fingers worked quickly and with force, pressing along each of Shiro's fingers working the oil into the skin at each join before moving on to the next finger.  After massaging each of Shiro's fingers, he moved to his palm.

Even with the pressure from Lance's fingers, Shiro could feel how soft and callous free his hands were.

“Your hands are so soft.” Shiro only realised he'd spoke out loud when Lance froze.

“Just because my hands are soft doesn't mean I don't work hard. You could have soft hands like there's if you took care of them,” Lance said defensively.

“I didn't mean it like that,” Shiro said quickly.

Lance flinched. “I know. I'm sorry.” He muttered, his head hung low. He was ashamed of himself. This was supposed to be about Shiro and helping him relax. Shiro's hands were so rough from hard work and worn from all the fighting he'd done. Lance held his palm against Shiro's for a moment and just held it there, comparing them. Shiro's fingers twitched, curling around his hand lightly in a gentle act of forgiveness and an apology of his own.

Lance quickly pulled his hand away when he realised just how long he'd been holding his hand against Shiro's.

“Right, that's that. Now let's look at those shoulders.” Lance said briskly. He shuffled over the pillows and sat behind Shiro.

Lance’s hands settled on his shoulders and got to work. They may be soft, but they were strong, his fingers moving firmly and dexterously to kneed the tights knots out of Shiro's muscles.

Shiro melted. He hadn't realised how tense he was until Lance's hands were forcing the tension from his shoulders. He groaned and sank into the touch.

“See I told you,” Lance said smugly.

When Lance was finished Shiro felt lighter, and completely at ease.

“Now what?” He asked with a contented sigh.

“Now we just lie down and let the face mask work its magic.”

“But what about you?” Shiro asked. Something wasn't quite right.

“What about me?”

“Your shoulders. Don't you need a massage too?”

“Shiro, are you offering to give me a massage?” Lance asked with a suggestive smirk that quite frankly looked ridiculous with his face covered in green goo.

“Sure why not?” Shiro shrugged.

“Oh, ok then" Lance shuffled awkwardly having not expected Shiro to agree so readily.

Shiro moved to sit behind Lance and tried to replicate what Lance had done though he was cautious about applying too much pressure and mindful of the twisted scarred skin that reached up between Lance's shoulder blades. He didn't want to hurt him.

But as usual, Lance wasn't afraid to call him out. “Come on Shiro you need to press harder than that or you won't do anything.”

“A little to the left….left...up...yes there!” Lance moaned when Shiro hit a particularly tough spot.

“You're pretty good at this, we should do this more often,” Lance mumbled happily. He flopped down on his back, and Shiro lay down next to him.

“That would be nice,” Shiro agreed with a sigh. Lance turned to face him.

“Seriously?”

Shiro grinned and nodded.

“Yes! Finally, someone understands my love of spa dates!” Lance crowed triumphantly punching his hands in the air. Shiro laughed, Lance was so excited, so cute. He wanted to do this again.

“What are you two doing?” A voice interrupted them.

“Pidge?” Shiro turned to the door, blinking owlishly at her.

“Don't you know how to knock?” Lance demanded snappily.

Pidge smirked and held up the orange device that allowed them to take photos. She snapped a photo.

“I have got to show this to the other," she said gleefully before running away.

“Pidge you get back here right this instant!” Lance yelled, scrambling to his feet he ran after her.

Shiro sighed and settled back down. He was in no hurry to leave nor did he care if Pidge had an embarrassing photo of him. He was happy to wait for Lance to come back. They still had to wash off the face masks and who knows, maybe there would be more for Shiro to discover after that.

[fy-kpopfanfiction]

Can You Tell What I Want - Suho/Minho

Currently having tech difficulties with ao3 (????) When I’m able to log in, I’ll post this there and include the link down below! 

Requested by: @xxuso-ambreigns-chick-4lifexx​ — Hope you enjoy this! If you have any requests, send me a message or an ask! Anons welcome! Only M/M pairings, but I’ll write just about anyone! :)

Pairing: Suho/Choi Minho (Mentioned: Jongkey/Taekai/Krisho/Taohun)

Summary: Minho and Suho hang out (and make out) after a concert.

Warning: None

Word Count: 1446

Rating: T

The company had decided to put two of its biggest groups into a small tour together. A few stops in China, Japan, and, of course, Korea. EXO and SHINee were on the last stop in Japan – the sixth on their tour – when they started to feel the exhaustion.  They were given one day to relax following their concert and planned to take advantage by unwinding late into the night before.

After the concert – EXO performing before SHINee and then the two of them performing together to wrap things up – they crowded into a room backstage first to enjoy a catered spread. The young ones were rowdy, drinking caffeinated drinks, nibbling bits of everything, even feeding each other. Taemin and Jongin, especially, flopped around the room together, playing and enjoying themselves.

The older members of the group grabbed food and drinks and seated themselves on the perimeter of the room to relax, their version of unwinding.

Junmyeon found himself somewhere in the middle. He was on the older side of EXO, but didn’t feel like seating himself with Minseok, Kris, or Luhan. He was still young, but not enough to flop around like a puppy with Sehun or Jongin. He loitered by a table filled with sushi rolls, two of them on a small plate in his hand.

“Hyung…”

Junmyeon started and turned to the left when he heard a voice beside him. Minho stood there, a smile on his face. Junmyeon smiled at him and rested a hand on his shoulder when Minho perched against the edge of the table. He was seated low enough that Junmyeon standing straight was slightly taller than him. “You were good out there tonight,” he said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze before removing his hand to eat one of the sushi rolls.

“You too, hyung. I was proud of you.”

Junmyeon choked on his sushi and set the plate aside. Minho clapped him on the back as he coughed. Junmyeon waved him off with one hand, covering his mouth with the other. When he’d recovered, he laughed, embarrassed. “Sorry, I…”

Minho interjected, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. You just caught me off guard.”

Minho began to reply when someone across the room shouting stole his attention. Key and Jonghyun, hanging on each other, were headed out the door, waving goodnight to everyone. “See you tomorrow!” Jonghyun shouted. “But not too early. We’re sleeping in!”

Key playfully swatted at him and they disappeared through the doorway.

Moments later, Jongin and Taemin followed suit along with Chanyeol and Kyungsoo.

Junmyeon watched them go, wondering if all the couples would soon be gone. A pang of jealousy hit him, but he tamped it down, reaching for a bottle of water behind him to occupy himself.

“Why did I catch you off guard, hyung?” Minho had also observed the couples pairing up and disappearing, but he didn’t much mind. He’d like to be left alone in the room.

“Hmm? Oh. Well, I’m older than you. Shouldn’t I be the one to say that I’m proud of you?”

Minho’s eyes flicked up to him, his shaggy silver bangs falling in his eyes. “Are you, hyung? Proud of me?”

His voice was low and the combination of that and odd height difference made Junmyeon gulp for reasons he couldn’t quite define and wasn’t sure he wanted to. He looked away from Minho’s dark eyes that seem to burn into his. “Of course,” he said, staring across the room. Tao and Kris were making eyes at each other in the corner and it made his jaw clench. “I think I need to get some air, Minho. It feels warm in here. Excuse me.”

Minho loped behind him as Junmyeon quickly made his way to the door. “Hyung, can I come with you?”

“I don’t know if…”

“Please, hyung. Only Jinki hyung is still here and he’s almost asleep on the couch. I’ll be all alone.”

When Junmyeon looked back, he knew he’d made a mistake. The pout on Minho’s lips was too much. He could have asked for the world and Junmyeon would have come up with a way to get it for him.

Ten minutes after leaving their members behind in the room, the two found themselves on the roof of the concert venue. Minho stood too close to the edge for Junmyeon’s liking, but he joined him to protect him.

“Look at that view, hyung.” Minho’s grin looked almost too big for his face and it made Junmyeon smile.

The younger man was cuter than Junmyeon had ever bothered to notice before. When Minho planted his hands on the edge of the roof’s barrier and leaned forward, his biceps flexed and Junmyeon noted that he was also hotter than he’d ever bothered to notice.

That combination could get him into a lot of trouble…

“Doesn’t it just give you a rush being up here like this, hyung?” Minho finally turned around, resting his bottom on the barrier, again appearing slightly shorter than Junmyeon.

“Like what?”

“Up on this roof, just the two of us. I don’t think we’re supposed to be up here…”

“What… What do you mean?”

“Well, surely it’s against the rules?”

“What rules?”

Minho barked out a laugh. “I don’t know, hyung.” He took a playful jab at him. “Just the rules of the building or whatever. I doubt they want people walking all over their roof in the middle of the night.”

“Oh, right. Maybe we should get down from here then.”

“No, hyung, come on.” Minho grabbed his wrists. “I want to stay.” He tugged Junmyeon toward him. “Don’t you want to stay, just for a while? It’s so nice up here. Just the two of us.”

“I…”

Minho’s grin dissolved into a deep frown. He cast his eyes downward, still holding Junmyeon’s wrists gently. When he spoke again, Junmyeon was so stunned that he gaped at him. “Hyung, I see the way you look at me.”

Minho looked up slowly, peeking under his lashes, to gauge Junmyeon’s reaction. Shocked. So, Junmyeon really thought he was being sly, or perhaps it was only obvious because Minho wanted to see it.

Or… maybe Junmyeon wasn’t even aware of how he looked at him.

He tugged Junmyeon a little closer, having fun teasing him. “Hyung…” He purred. “Do you see the way I look at you?”

Junmyeon gulped and shook his head.

Minho shook his hair away from his forehead. It fell back immediately, but not low enough to cover his eyes that bore into Junmyeon’s. “Do you see the way I’m looking at you now, hyung?”

Junmyeon’s heart raced. He didn’t think he’d ever consider another man after things didn’t work out with Kris. Minho had always been a good friend, but… Could he really be more than that? The twisting of Junmyeon’s stomach seemed to indicate that he could.

Minho kept pulling him closer, guiding him between his long, outstretched legs. He leaned in, his mouth over Junmyeon’s ear. “Hyung, can you tell what I want?”

Junmyeon hesitated a moment and then  reached out, latching onto Minho’s hip with his right hand to brace himself as he leaned in to whisper in his ear. “Something like this…” His heart pounded hard as he traced Minho’s earlobe with his bottom lip.

The younger man shuddered under his touch. “More like this,” he countered, attaching his mouth to Junmyeon’s neck, sucking at the sensitive skin beneath his ear and feathering kisses down his neck to his throat. Junmyeon leaned back to give him better access, moaning as he raked his teeth over his prominent Adam’s apple.

Minho nibbled and kissed his way to his lips. Junmyeon pushed him back, holding his hips as he kissed him hard on the lips.

Minho’s hands gripped his hips and pulled him closer, their hips colliding. Junmyeon moaned against his mouth at the sudden friction.

Their kisses became frenzied. Lips. Tongues. Teeth.

Hands were everywhere. Gripping, pulling, clawing.

Minho’s hand slip onto the back of Junmyeon’s head and he tugged his hair, pulling his head away from him. “Hyung, can we go back to your room?”

Junmyeon nodded. He roomed with Sehun, but he was positive that makae would be out most of the night with Tao.

Minho scratched his fingertips through Junmyeon’s hair and kissed his lips. “We can be alone, right, hyung?’

“Yes.” If Sehun was there, he’d get rid of him.

Minho took him by the hand and led him to the roof access door. Just before he walked through, he turned around, hand still clutching Junmyeon’s.

He stared into his eyes and asked, “Can you tell what I want now, hyung?”

[cajunquandary]

About Bar Fights and Moobs

Characters: Sam, Dean, Reader

Wordcount: 1100

Warnings: Drinking, bar fight, WinCHESTers (yes their chests are a warning)

Summary: The reader is at a dive bar drinking and complaining about men and relationships along with another woman who she just met when a random fight erupts the entire bar into a war zone. Que Winchesters.

A/N: I wrote this for @iwantthedean’s Two Prompt Challenge. My prompt was “Listen here, Chisel Chest, okay, we were here first.” While I tend to write mostly about Dean or Benny, Sam kinda spoke to me on this one. It’s Sammy central but fear not—there’s plenty of sassy Dean to go around! ((And if anyone doesn’t know? Moobs=Man Boobs and no I’m not even sorry.))

 “I just don’t understand, Alicia. It was Alicia, right?”

“Actually it’s Alex—“

“Anyway, he’s so frustrating! I’m glad it’s over but honestly I’m still raging. How dare he thinks he can talk to people like that? And don’t even get me started about the lying and money.”

“Yeah, I hear you. Mine did the same thing, but it was always MY fault. Everything was.”

You downed your shot while only half listening to Alicia. No, Alexa or something. Whatever. Neither of you would remember come morning. You both just got dumped and had come out to let off a little steam, and it was working so far. Kind of. Why did they call it an angel shot anyway? The mixed liquor was mostly a beige color with the thinnest line of blue on top. Honestly, it reminded you of a trench coat and there’s not much angelic about that.

Before you could ponder about the strange drink menu, a chair flew behind you, a couple of ragged bikers starting to fight. In no time at all, every patron in the building was involved. Chairs, tables, plates and fists flew—had you just stepped into a bad cartoon? A beer bottle grazing your scalp drew you back to the chaotic reality. “Shit!”

You hopped onto the bar top quickly, sliding down to the other side to take cover. Alicia—no, Alex something—flopped with an umph next to you, her drink still in hand. She held it up and panted lightly, “Priorities.” She gulped the remainder in record time.

“OW!” Had a moose just landed on you? For God’s sake!! For a moment you wondered if there was anywhere safe. You tried to protest but the hefty man’s rear was pressing on your lungs, his head somewhere by your sprawled out feet. Poor thing landed upside down, he twisted trying to right himself, but only caused more pressure on you. Stars gathered at the edge of your vision before he succeeded. Once free, he got up on his knees, chest poking out as he stole a glance over the countertop.

“Listen here, Chisel Chest,” You croaked, voice finally coming back. “Okay, we were here first. And where the hell is your shirt?! You’re going to poke someone’s eye out!”

The beast of a man stooped back down to look you in the eye, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but all you could focus on were the hazel of his gentle, concerned eyes, his dimples as his mouth pressed into a hard, irritated line, and the was his long hair fell haphazardly in his face. Your eyes travelled down past his moving mouth, though you couldn’t hear the words falling from those soft lips in your daze.

There was a little blood on his neck, on the thin membrane bouncing over his Adams apple. You licked your lips. There was a bruise forming just under his collarbone, and a circle of red from where someone punched him in the stomach. You could gaze at such a work of art for all eternity and call it heaven. Maybe that angel shot worked after all!

The man outstretched a hand to you. “Come with me, I’ll protect you.”

You found your voice, pushing it past the lump in your throat. “I don’t need protection, especially not from a male model. Are those even real?” Slightly drunk you was notoriously a little handsy, and with abandon you reached out and grasped his firm pectorals, one in each hand. “Oh,” You murmured. “Those are definitely real.”

The din seemed to have died down, but you were unable to move, mortified now with the situation. The man stared back at you in equal surprise.

“Uhh, Sammy?” You both turned to the newcomer—a tall, equally gorgeous man whose arms crossed over his own bare chest, shoulders and knuckles spattered with blood that was clearly not his own as he looked on in smug amusement. “Am I… interrupting?”

You jerked your misbehaving arms to your torso, face burning red. Sammy leaned back and sighed in annoyance. “This was your fault. If you’d just kept your mouth shut, I really didn’t need the chair. We were leaving anyway. But noo, Dean, you just had to square off.”

Dean set his hands on his hips defiantly, nearly giving you a heart attack as more freckle-dusted skin pulled taught over hard muscles, gently loosening around the belly. “Well excuse me bitch for standing up for my baby bro.”

Seriously? The bigger one was the baby brother?

“You owe me a new shirt. And what happened to yours?”

Dean stepped back, appalled at the question. “It’s my favorite Led Zep shirt. Dad bought it for me when I was in my twenties. No way I’m screwing it up in a bar fight!”

Exasperated, Sam tossed his hands in the air and moved to stand, holding out a hand to you once again.

You shrugged it away and stood on your own. “I don’t need help from a couple of male-modeling sons of bitches; I can take care of myself, thanks.”

Dean retrieved his shirt from the beer well. “You heard her, Sammy. She can take care of herself.”

You turned towards Alexcia or whoever when sirens of the coming police armada grew close, ready to bolt but knowing there was no getting away. She was long gone already.

Sam placed a hand on your shoulder and you tensed under the warmth. “Come one, we can get you out of here. Please? To say sorry for ruining your night? And falling on you?”

“Ugh! Fine. What did you have in mind?” You turned, eyes rolling just in time to catch a glimpse of something silver in his hands. “Handcuffs, seriously? Right now isn’t the time to be getting kinky, sir.” In his other hand, an FBI badge rested. “Oh.”

Remarkably quickly, you were cuffed in the back of the Impala and riding away from the chaos of the scene, and even with minimal snickers from the local police in the case of Sam’s half nudity. You knew in that moment, while gazing at the brothers in the front seat, that no matter what the road ahead held, you were glad that these strangers were taking you there. Sam looked back at you and you flashed a toothy grin. Yeah, the night hadn’t ended so badly after all.

Dean rolled his eyes in the rear view. “Can you two wait to continue your weird grabby things until we get to the motel? And get your own damn room.”

(Bonus, just cuz. Shirtless Dean:)

Tag List:

@supernatural-jackles @jensen-jarpad @wheresthekillswitch @aseasyasdeanspie @bummblebeeblue @nothin-after-79 @docharleythegeekqueen @fangirl-writing-fiction @inmysparetime0 @impala-dreamers-mainfrigginblog @impala-dreamer @arryn-nyxx @idk-life01 @attorneyl @akshi8278 @deathtonormalcy56

[decembercamiecherries]

Strawberry

Part three of the Miraculous x Hunter series created by @emthimofnight, featuring a prickly Killua (secretly Chat Noir) being saved by Ladybug (secretly Gon), who is determined to protect his best friend no matter what, even if said best friend doesn’t want his protection!

All parts of this series will be put up on my ao3 soon, and there will be more drabbles to come! I wasn’t joking when I said me and emthimofnight were talking about this au nonstop haha XD

Word count: 2067

Other Miraculous x Hunter links: 

GonNoir mirror drabble, Killugon ballroom scene drabble

Fanart by @emthimofnight that started this whole thing

Killua really hadn’t planned on spending his free afternoon running away from the Mayor’s akumatized daughter- but, well. That’s just the kind of thing he’d gotten semi-used to since becoming Chat Noir.

“KILLUA ZOLDYCK!” came the horrible ear-piercing wail. The sound made Killua want to cover his ears as he pelted down the cobbled street but he resisted. He had to find a place to transform as soon as possible, or else that girl would terrorize the entire city-

“COME BACK HERE AT ONCE!!!!” 

“Why don’t you try and make me, huh?!” he hollered over his shoulder and smirked at the shriek of rage that echoed off crooked rooftops and looming skyscrapers.

He didn’t have anything against the Mayor’s daughter, really. She was a pretty but shy girl whose parents- along with Killua’s own mother and father- were adamant on setting her up with Killua. 

And that was about as likely to happen as Killua giving up on chocolate.

THUMP.

The pavement shook underneath his feet and he nearly stumbled. Shit. He couldn’t afford to lose his footing now; if he did, he would be caught by the newest akuma victim before he could change into Chat Noir.

Civilians screamed and pushed him to the side in their attempt to get away from the chaos unfolding behind them. Killua did his best to duck around them while simultaneously peering down alleyways, searching for a hidden place to transform.

He cursed under his breath. None of these would work. Not as long as people were still running around in masses like this-

A sharp, sizzling noise filled the air. Nearby buildings took on a greenish hue and Killua’s hair stood on end.

“WATCH OUT!”

Killua’s heart leaped at the familiar call. He twisted on one foot just in time to see the one and only Ladybug drop from the sky. He landed right in front of Killua, planting himself in between the silver haired teen and the akuma laser-beam weapon aimed in is direction.

The Mayor’s daughter released the trigger with a scream that was more of a yowl than anything, but Ladybug’s yo-yo was already spinning through the air in a blur of scarlet red and scattered black.

Ladybug’s weapon deflected the laser with ease, shattering it upon contact and scattering its remains harmlessly into the air. Killua let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Thank god. Ladybug was here and he could take care of the akuma so Killua could finally transform-

Ladybug whirled around. Killua had a split second to register to the determined glimmer in his brown eyes before Ladybug swept Killua’s feet out from underneath him. The next second, they were soaring through the air.

Killua gasped instinctively at the sudden height and his stomach rolled. Yorknew stretched out below them in all its glory.

Killua knew this sight by heart; he’d jumped higher than this with Ladybug as Chat Noir more times than he could count. But being here now, held tenderly like damsel in distress by freaking Ladybug as his civilian self, had to be one of the most mortifying things in the entire world.

Or maybe fate was just another old lady who hated him.

“Don’t worry, citizen!”

Killua’s head snapped up. Ladybug beamed at him, his dumb classic ‘hero smile’ in place.

“I won’t let you fall,” Ladybug continued proudly. He landed on another rooftop and leaped again before Killua could protest.

A wave of prickling irritation washed over Killua. What the fuck. He hadn’t asked to be carried in bridal-style away from the akuma! Who did Ladybug think he was?!

“Let go of me!” he said loudly over the whistle of wind.

Honest surprise flitted across Ladybug’s face. “I- but, I must protect you-”

"You did that already!” Killua snapped. He tried to squirm his way out of Ladybug’s iron-like grip but the superhero didn’t loosen his grasp on Killua’s arm and legs. “Just- put me down! NOW!!!” 

“I can’t do that! You’re in serious trouble! That akuma villain is after you.”

Killua snarled, “I- don’t- CARE! Put me down already!” 

“But-!”

They were falling back down towards the rooftops again. Killua saw his chance and took it.

Seconds before they landed, Killua elbowed Ladybug in his chest. Hard. 

Ladybug inhaled sharply at the unexpected jab and his hold loosened. Killua twisted, prying Ladybug’s hands off him and throwing his own hands out to brace for impact.

The palms of his hands scrapped across jagged pebbles and tiny rocks as Killua landed on the newest roof. He managed to land on his hands and feet though- fingers splayed out flat against the cement, sneakers pressed securely into the ground as his legs curled into a squat- just like a cat should.

He looked up just in time to see Ladybug land nimbly a few feet away. The troubled expression on his partner’s face was almost funny enough to make him laugh out loud.

“Why did you do that?!” Ladybug asked, sounding truly upset. “You could have gotten seriously hurt if we were higher up!”

Killua barely resisted rolling his eyes. He wasn’t so stupid as to try that at a height that would have killed him!

“Yeah, well.” He stood up gracefully, ignoring the stinging pain in his hands. That was going to hurt tomorrow. “If you had let go of me like I asked we could’ve avoided that whole thing. But nooooo, you had to go and be a hero.”

Ladybug puffed out his cheeks indignantly. “I am a hero! I’m Ladybug! And as Ladybug, it’s my job to protect civilians from danger-”

“I didn’t need your protection,” Killua cut in. “I was doing just fine on my own before you showed up.”

“No, you weren’t! You were about to get hit by that weapon and you would’ve been injured if I hadn’t stepped in!!!”

Killua huffed. “I would’ve survived.”

“You don’t know that!”

Ladybug’s bottom lip was stuck out in a full pout now. Killua eyed Ladybug’s white-knuckled fists at his side, the rigid firmness in Ladybug’s stance. 

It was clear that Ladybug wasn’t gonna leave anytime soon. Killua bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from groaning. Great. This was just fantastic. 

Killua cared about Ladybug- he did, honestly. How could he not care about his ridiculous partner after running around Yorknew and saving akuma victims with the guy for the past couple of months?

But this was just annoying. How the hell was he going to transform with Ladybug standing right in front of him like this?! Revealing his true identity was out of the question. 

Maybe if he played nice, Ladybug would leave?

“Okay,” he amended. “Okay. Maybe you did help. A bit. But that’s over now, so, thank you very much, you can go back to saving the rest of Yorknew now-”

“I’m not gonna leave you!” Ladybug said, abashed.

...what?

“Why the hell not?!”

Ladybug slapped his hands on top of Killua’s shoulders. He stared intently at Killua’s face, gaze never once wavering, and Killua instinctively leaned back. What was up with that expression?

“You seem to be confused,” Ladybug said slowly and Killua barely held back a shriek of rage. “There is no need to worry, Killua. I swear I will keep you safe from the akuma!”

Killua’s eye twitched. “I already told you,” he grounded out. “I don’t need your help! You did your job by shielding me from the laser beam- now go and save someone else already! You’re supposed to be the hero of Yorknew, aren’t you?!”

“You do need my help,” Ladybug insisted stubbornly, fingers digging into the soft cotton Killua’s purple sweatshirt. “The akuma is after you, specifically! So you’re the one who needs the most help right now. Chat Noir can take care of everyone else while I take care of you.”

Chat Noir won’t be able to do anything if you keep hanging off me like this!!! Killua thought shrilly.

He knew the akuma wanted him, but Killua had never seen Ladybug so dead-set on keeping a specific civilian safe before. This was crazy! And there was no point in trying to dissuade him, either; once Ladybug wanted something, he refused to let it go. He almost reminded Killua of Gon in that way.

Gon. 

Killua’s heart fluttered. Gon was home with Aunt Mito right now. Killua knew that because he had actually been headed there to do homework before the akuma attack hit. For Gon’s safety, at least, Killua was grateful. There was no way Killua could have kept track of him with Ladybug on top of him like this.

So. Ladybug was the real problem, here.

Killua refocused on his superhero partner. Ladybug still had all of his fierce attention aimed directly at Killua. The spotted mask did nothing to hide the intensity of his look. It was almost annoying, actually.

“Would you stop-” he impulsively tugged at Ladybug’s red and black bandanna, relishing the startled cry that followed, “-ogling at me like that?! I’m not gonna disappear or anything!”

Ladybug stuck out his tongue childishly. “You’re so mean, Killua! I’m trying to save you and you just-”

“Saved,” Killua corrected him. “I don’t need saving any more, Strawberry.”

Ladybug’s mouth fell open. His hands slid off Killua’s shoulders and Killua breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Finally.

“Did- did you just...call me strawberry?!”

“Mhm.” Killua folded his arms with a smirk. “S’not my fault your outfit is red and has black spots all over it. Plus, y’know, your hair kinda looks like leaves the way it flops over like that.”

Ladybug’s expression was a hilarious mix of emotions, like he was too confused at the comparison to be offended. Killua’s grin widened. He couldn’t help it. Ladybug was made it too easy not to tease him and hopefully Killua’s comments would be enough to make him push Killua away for good.

“What, no comeback to that one?” Killua jeered.

Ladybug’s eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth-

“WHERE ARE YOU KILLUA ZOLDYCK?!”

The bellowing roar was loud enough to make air tremble. Killua clapped his hands over his ears, wincing, but Ladybug’s head snapped around to find the source of the noise instantaneously. 

“COME OUT, PRETTY BOY! NO ONE IN YORKNEW SHALL BE SAFE UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU!”

Ladybug ran over to the edge of the roof, leaning over as far as he could without falling over. He was searching for the Mayor’s daughter, Killua realized as he lowered his hands.

“Killua...” Ladybug said lowly. He turned back around and Killua’s heart started to race at the dark intent in his eyes. Ladybug was getting serious, now.

“I’m gonna draw the akumatized victim away from here, okay?” Ladybug told him. “She’s gotten too close to us. I thought Chat would’ve gotten here by now but...well, he’s late sometimes.”

And who’s fault was that?! Killua thought as he clenched his jaw. He was going to sit Ladybug down and have a conversation with him later about shadowing civilians. It wasn’t good for the rest of Yorknew if they concentrated on any one specific individual.

(Killua didn’t let himself think about what he would’ve done if Gon had been the one in danger. Killua would never let that happen to his best friend. Never in a million years.)

Killua blinked when Ladybug suddenly appeared in front of him again. Ladybug grabbed his hands without warming, squeezing them lightly and giving Killua a smile bright enough to rival the sun.

“I won’t let her get to you,” Ladybug swore. “I pinky promise! So stay here until I come back, okay?”

Killua didn’t have time to react to that before Ladybug had dropped his hands and was flying over the rooftop edge. 

“H-Hey!” Killua shouted at Ladybug’s retreating figure. “Don’t treat me like some kind of weak, fragile thing, damnit!” 

But Ladybug was already gone. In the distance Killua could already make out the scream of the akuma. Ladybug must have found her.

“Stupid,” Killua muttered, shaking his head. Ladybug owed him big-time for the amount of shit he’d just put Killua through.

At least he’d finally left Killua alone.

“Stay here, my ass.” Killua twisted the miraculous ring on his finger and savored the rush of warmth the flowed through him at the glowing light. “As if I’d let him have all the fun! CLAWS OUT!”

(short follow up to this drabble)

[guardianofjunmyeon]

I’ve Got You (part 1)

Pairing: Jongdae x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Canon AU, Future Smut (??)

Description: You work for SM as it’s public relations specialist, and Jongdae is one client that you have to deal with far too often. Sometimes though, he isn’t all that bad.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21.

You hate working for an entertainment company.

Correction. You fucking hate working for SM Entertainment. You definitely thought that this is what you wanted to do while you were still in college. Now you’re a graduate stuck working for a company that gives you more stress than a late 20-year-old should have.

Yeah, you got to work with celebrities. And yeah, you got to live in the exciting work environment that you dreamed of as an undergraduate with hope and ambitions. Work is never boring. But that’s just it. It’s never boring. You never have a slow day.

Any time that you think you have a chance to breathe, someone will waltz in all worried and apologetic telling you “we’ve got another crisis”. Whether that someone got followed in to a club they (in the first place) shouldn’t have been in and got photos taken of them, someone got their dick stuck in something, or more often times than not, they got their dick stuck in someone at the club.

It’s your job to handle all of these oh so fun incidents. Damage control. That’s what you do. That’s what your job title should have been called. All the messes, all the mishaps, the misunderstandings, you’re the first on the scene to get the facts, write the press release and find a way to spin the story in a way that doesn’t make your clients look like the dumbasses they all are. You keep them from losing their jobs, or more importantly you keep yourself from losing your job. There’s no way you’re going to let some stupid celebrity mistake be the reason you lose you first steady flow of income.

Not when you’re getting paid as much as you are at that.

So, you know everything. You have to. To fix it you have to hear the truth straight from the horse’s mouth. You probably know more about all of these idols’ personal lives than you’d ever like to.

One client though, one client in particular is slowly but surely driving you to an early grave.

Jongdae.

EXO’s Chen.

Jesus Christ the kid is a saint on camera, but if you had a dollar -scratch that, a penny- for every god damned issue of his that you’d had to deal with, you’d be able to retire on an island and never have to deal with P.R. ever again.

You really should have signed a contract that paid you by project instead of in scheduled time intervals.

It’s Monday today, and walking in to the large building you can already smell the sheer amount of bullshit that you will have to deal with after the weekend.

Maybe you should have just majored in Chinese like you wanted and worked as a translator.

It’s been 5 years now. 5 years that you’ve been working for SM as its main public relations representative. You started out under some older guy at first, but after a huge lawsuit was filed against the company that he wasn’t able to handle finally blew over, you got bumped up.

Let’s just say that after that day, you try to crush the lawsuits before they can even reach that level of media coverage.

You graduated college wanting to be a true professional. You know, the good guy. You wanted to show the truth to the public. You wanted to prove not everyone in your line of work was full of lies. Boy, the dream died in your heart quickly.

After a particular incident where one SM idol -who shall remain nameless for the sake of confidentiality- was caught in another country in a huge orgy with a team of Russian trapeze artists, you learned sometimes the truth is better unsaid. To this day, everyone still thinks that he just went to the circus and got injured after a flip gone wrong by one of the performers.

It took you a solid 3 weeks to get everyone to believe that shit. You’re honestly a miracle worker. You’re just hoping your luck doesn’t run out too fast.

Walking in to your office, you throw you purse into the chair in front of your desk before flopping in the large one at the desk’s head. You name is engraved on a small silver plaque for everyone to see.

Even though everyone here already knows who you are at this point. You are basically their caretaker.

The silence in your office is all too short as it’s interrupted by the sound of knocking. Your newest secretary walks in with a nervous smile and a stack of papers. She’s only been here a month so far and is still terrified of you. It might have been since when she walked in for her first day you were on the verge of physically assaulting Jongdae after another one of his “conquests” got away before signing a nondisclosure agreement. He was hiding behind your desk as you pitched different object at his head (okay maybe you weren’t just on the verge of attacking him).

You liked the new secretary so far though. She’s a university student who wants to work for JYP. She’s shadowing you in a way. She’s kind hearted. Bright. Hopeful for the future. Reminds you of a younger version of yourself.

God it’s going to be sad watching that excitement fade from her eyes.

“Sehun is here to see you,” she says softly.

Sehun never causes problems. If anything he’s known to not tell on anyone when they fuck up. A loyal kid. What could he possibly want?

She leaves and the guy walks in, all broad shoulders, and angry eyebrows in his practice clothes. Oh shit, they have a comeback coming soon. You need to remember to have someone leak the audio to one of their songs…or maybe even edit one of the former songs so that their fans can go to town hyping themselves up for their official comeback.

He addresses you by your first name.

“Sit,” is all you say. He fidgets. “What happened?”

His eyebrows loosen and his entire expression shifts in the way that makes him look like an entire different person. Like the actual maknae of his group. “I just wanted to come and tell you this before you heard it from someone else, and I don’t want you to be mad at me or at Jongdae because it’s not his fault I promise!”

There’s his name again.

You groan in misery. “What did he do now?”

Sehun sits up in his seat. “Chanyeol and I were going to go get food, but Baekhyun and Jongdae wanted to come along and we already know that we shouldn’t travel in big groups out in public, but Jongdae told us that maybe we shouldn’t go with any guards because that would make us more suspicious. And Chanyeol was like ‘yeah’, but Baekhyun said that it was a bad idea. But then Jongdae said we could just go eat somewhere farther away and we wouldn’t get noticed, so Baekhyun caved and we went.”

You snap your fingers impatiently. “I need you to speed this up. What exactly did Jongdae do? What do I need to be on the look out for?”

He blinks rapidly and leans back in his seat before sighing. “Jongdae bought a fleshlight at a uh…at a-”

“At a sex shop,” you fill in.

“Yeah,” he swallows hard and his adam’s apple bobs. “He bought one as a joke and we all signed it because we thought it would be funny, but then he uhm…he left it on the train,” he finishes sheepishly.

It’s Monday. And you already have to deal with a lost fleshlight on a train. Maybe you should start naming these cases like Scooby Doo episodes. Pinching the bridge of your nose to fight of an impending headache you give Sehun a tired look. “Send Jongdae to my office.”

“He’s not going to get in trouble right?”

“Yes, he most definitely is.”

“But…not a lot of trouble right?”

“If you mean getting kicked out of the group trouble then no. A lost fleshlight with almost half of EXO’s signatures on it is not something Lee Sooman needs to hear about. Nor is it something I’m willing to lose my job over. Just…send Jongdae up.”

You are going to strangle him when he gets here.

[sscsldcp]

Something Rotten Tour: Previews

This is going to be a LONG post with a lot of notes from the Something Rotten Tour! I saw it January 14th and 15th in Schenectady.

WARNING: SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE GOING TO SEE THE TOUR. YOU WILL ENJOY IT MORE IF YOU DO NOT KNOW THE CHANGES. TRUST ME. 

If I wrote UPDATE, its something that either changed or I didn’t notice the first night but did in the next show

Welcome to the Renaissance: Instead of saying ‘and everything is new’ the minstrel said ‘whats a famous bard to do’

UPDATE: He was perfect this time!

It is so weird seeing the new ensemble, especially when two shakespeare understudies next to each other, because they look identical

2 ensemblists had to pull open the theater for the beginning since nothing is mechanic

Nick and Bea’s house is made of 2 different boards and a door, also brought on by ensemblists

MAGGIE AS BEA IS SO CUTE. Its similar to Heidi’s Bea but not exactly like her

During Right Hand Man, when she says ‘Then I’m your go to guy’ he does finger guns and when Nick said ‘You’re not a guy’ he does these half assed finger guns back

When she says ‘So don’t be a sexist pig’ she grabs Nicks collar, pulls him down to be shorter than her (she is probably 5-6 inches shorter than Rob), then puts him in a choke hold while she continues singing

Instead of flopping down on the bed, Josh kneeled down then crawled in a circle once or twice like a dog before settling down

AUTUMN. IS. GORGEOUS. Her Portia was adorable, although it sounds a bit forced

Bro Jerry was hilarious. He got so many laughs in places that didn’t get laughs before

Shylock was so funny. It is weird seeing someone who's younger (50s-60s as opposed to 78) in the role but he brought new life to it

Nostradamus is a mixture of Brad and David. Not quite as outgoing as Brad (nothing can replace Brad!), but very very funny

New shoes for A Musical!! No longer red, now sparkly purple and green!

UPDATE: the shoes changed because now they work for both A Musical and Bottom’s Gonna Be On Top, I’m assuming this was done to lighten the load of shoes needed for tour

Still weird seeing the set being brought on by the actors

I Love the Way was adorable as usual, I love Autumns singing voice, she reminds me more of Kate than anyone else

Autumn doesn’t say ‘IT’S A LETTER’ which upsets me deeply

SHAKESPEARE VALET IS NO LONGER ITS OWN CHARACTER. ITS JUST A LEATHER BOY WITH A HAT.

Will Power was the same, except the stage, again, is dragged out by the leather boys

I am loving the new leather boys though (no one can replace the broadway leather boys, but for a tour cast I love them)

New Shakespeare Jackets! This one is a sparkly silver, similar to the last one, and the act 2 jacket is all gold and very shiny. Its basically the Sciottospeare jacket revamped

Instead of the ‘thanks for helping with my wood’ line, Rob screamed at the leather boys ‘WE ARE HAVING A BABY!!!!’ and they were so confused

Nick screamed off to Bea ‘IM GONNA BE A FATHER’ before he was alone on stage and did the usual ‘I’m gonna be a father….!’

Portia is wearing a coat similar to the blue one in I Love the Way in pastel green for the party scene

Before she falls over, she tried to sit on the bench, but someone was sitting there, so she stumbled around to the back and fell forward on to her stomach behind the couch instead of backwards

“CHESS. No wait that cant possibly work” was changed to “HAIR. That would just be weird”

Bottoms Gonna Be On Top had a few changes

In response to “Master Bottom you’re such a wonderful writer”, instead of saying “Why thank you”, Rob said ‘I can hear ‘em now!’

Instead of Lord Clapham saying “You’re the greatest” and Shylock saying “You da man!” Shylock says “You’re the greatest” and EVERYONE- Nigel, Bea, the Ensemble, and Shylock say “You da man!”

Hard to Be The Bard was pretty much the same, just different tracks did different things (I know a majority of the tracking at this point so I can say for sure things were changed)

In We See the Light, the male puritan carry in the benches while they all walk in singing ‘no no that won’t do’

Bro Jerry has 2 less puritans following him (he has 2 instead of 4)

UPDATE: Josh dropped the hat. He almost dove for it, but the throw was nowhere near him

Nigel and Portia didn’t dance during we see the light! I think it works because its supposed to be their dream, so when they danced it kind of ruined it. Now they stand in the middle of everything holding each other and its adorable

UPDATE: Dancing is back!

After Nigel goes ‘Let it speak for my soul’ he usually sits down at his desk and starts writing while the troupe comes in and then they start rehearsing. That was not the case.

After he said it the first time, the music changed and he said ‘Let it speak for my soul’ again, AND THEN “Sure as the day, follows the night, sure as the sky turns to blue, this much I know, this much is true, above all else in whatever you do, to thine own self be true” in a new tune

Then, Nigel wants to start with “The Princes Soliloquy”

Normally when the ensemble starts saying ‘this much I know, this much is true, above all else in whatever you do, to thine own self be true’ they do a soft shoe tap number with the music while Nigel watches. NOW- the music stops and they start singing a cappella, and Nigel joins in. Personally I am not a fan of this change

Update: I miss the tapping, but the a cappella this time was REALLY GOOD

To Thine Own Self is not really as much of a song anymore. It’s become more like arguing to music with the chorus being sung. If you saw previews its similar to that. I have most of the dialogue typed out if anyone wants it. Here is a snippet where there was a MAJOR change.

Troupe+ Nigel: “Sure as the day, follows the night, sure as the sky turns to blue, this much I know, this much is true, above all else in whatever you do, to thine own self be true” -

Nick: It’s beautiful but we don’t have time for this. I know, for a fact, that Omelette will be known as perhaps the single greatest play ever written 

UPDATE:  It drastically changed from Nick appreciating what Nigel wrote to him 

Nick: *screaming* ‘WHERE’S THE OMELETTE!?!?!?!?!?!?!??’ 

The ensemble also would put on jackets before they started on broadway, however there are no longer jackets

Shylock line change: He walks in and says “Nickkk you’re not selling any tickets…. BECAUSE YOU’VE SOLD OUT!”

New eggs and Omelettes! They seem MUCH lighter and I think the eggs are collapsable

Someone dropped their omelette tonight but was able to catch it

UPDATE: Omelette was a mess today. First, a piece of bacon nearly ended up in the pit. Then one poor guy had such bad luck with his egg. First his yolk undid inside his costume and went out the bottom, leaving him with 2 feet of fabric around his feet. He tried his hardest to tap but he nearly fell over because he was getting stuck in the fabric. Then, the egg shells on their head are magnetic, and I think their are multiple magnets (there is one on the side for like a piece of ham or a mushroom once they turn into an omelette) and his egg shell got stuck on the wrong magnet which ended up covering his eyes. At that point, the poor guy gave up and tapped off into the wings.

Court scene: ‘Exit Shakespeare!’ is followed by ‘Shakespeare’s leaving’ at which point everyone in the stands runs after him

Stage door: It was INSIDE which was amazing. Night 1 I met Rob, Josh, Maggie, and Adam. There were maybe 20 people in a nice calm line that night.

Adam greeted me with ‘Hi Sweetie how are you!? Thank you so much for coming!’

Rob greeted me with a hug and saying how it was so sweet that I came

Maggie is SO SWEET. I told her how I’ve seen it *just a few* times on broadway and she was like oh my god thats amazing, thank you for coming!

The next say stage door was MAD. There were probably 60-80 people there just mobbing the stage door. Adam, Rob and Josh came out again, and this time Daniel Beeman (my second favorite in the ensemble AND Shakespeare u/s), Kyle Anderson (my favorite in the ensemble and Nigel u/s, he took over Brian Ogilvie’s track), and Scott Cote (Brother Jeremiah) came out.

Daniel, Kyle, and Scott clearly were not planning to stage door and were shocked when they opened it to the mob that was there. Daniel was super sweet and signed autographs and took pictures anyway. As did Scott, who also appreciated that I thought he was the funniest Brother Jeremiah after I’ve seen the show so many times. However, Kyle really did not want to stage door. As soon as he walked out, he stood against the door and was like ‘OH MY GOD.’ He truly is Nigel, and he will make an AMAZING Nigel and I hope he replaces Josh once Josh’s contract is up. He signed a few autographs before he ran out. I sadly didn’t get to talk to him, and even though he was standing behind me I figured I should just leave him be.

I talked to Adam for a bit and asked if he got new jackets, which he confirmed and was very impressed that I noticed.

I waited for the mob to dissipate a bit before I talked to Rob, and once it did I asked him about the line changes, mainly ‘WHERE IS THE OMELETTE’. Rob said they asked him to try that in the show that morning (I saw a matinee, so maybe at 4 or 5 hours earlier). I told  him how with that line I can finally see Nick as a bad person, like you are supposed to. He appreciated that because that is what you are supposed to be thinking there.

I really love this cast, at leas those who I have been fortunate enough to meet. They are all such sweet people.

All in all, I enjoyed the tour. It is definitely not broadway, but it is as close as it could get. A lot of the changes help to clear up confusion that may have been there, and the rest make the show better as a whole. There are some things I miss from broadway, but this isn’t broadway, its the tour, so it is a good time for a change! If the tour is going anywhere near you I would definitely recommend going!

[taxicabmag]

A Story by Sherri Harvey

How to Learn to Love Liquor

I start practicing early. When I’m nine years old, I master the art of making a stellar vodka martini for my dad because he calls on his way home from work and reminds me of the instructions he gave me yesterday. First, put the martini glass in the freezer so it gets nice and cold. Then in the silver bullet cocktail shaker, pour three shots of premium vodka—Stolichnaya. I know the difference between Stolichnaya and Gordon’s—even if I can’t even say it. I call it Stoli for short, like an old friend I have known since first grade.

I use the biggest shot glass on the shelf—the one my dad brought back as a souvenir for me from his Caesar's Palace Las Vegas trip last year.

I put two ice cubes in the silver bullet. Not three, not one, but two. I set the silver bullet in the freezer next to chilled litre of Stoli that lives there. My dad will be home in an hour. I already know this ritual. I set my Snoopy watch for 50 minutes, go start my addition and subtraction homework for Mrs. Howard’s math class tomorrow. I sit at the glass dining room table with the brass frame. After 50 minutes, I return to start preparing.

I open the freezer and carefully avoid touching the bowl of the glass—I only grab the stem. (If I grab the bowl, I compromise the temperature.) I make sure my fingers aren’t wet—I know, wet, they will stick to the glass. I shake the silver bullet seven times. Not five not six but seven. Using the strainer, I pour the mix into the frozen glass. Then, I gingerly slide three Sugarfina olives on a toothpick and stick them in the glass. I dip my finger in the jar of olives and drop a smidgen into the vodka. I hear my dad’s voice caution: Not too much!

When my dad comes home from work, and he yells out, “Hey Bartender, can I make it a double?” I laugh like he laughs: a deep rolling guffaw that makes his cheeks red. Only my cheeks aren’t yet red from addiction.

I carry the cocktail into the living room to my father, using both of my nine-year-old hands to hold the stem. He is sitting in the pleather recliner with his navy blue checked tie loosened around his neck and his feet propped up on the gold velvet footstool as a Now-100 Ultra Slim burns in the ashtray on the brown wood coffee table next to him. I hold my breath as I walk through the recently-exhaled smoke and hand him his drink gingerly. I watch him bring the concoction to his lips, close his eyes for a second, and swallow. I notice his Adam’s apple as it bobs with each sip. I look him in his glassy blue-green eyes as I hear him say, “Exxxcellent! I’m so proud of you!”

When I am 14, I practice sipping Canadian Club before bed when I can’t sleep. I pour myself a healthy shot (using what my dad thinks is the most treasured favorite gift he ever gave me: the Caesar's Palace shot glass) and slowly raise the glass to my lips. As I get the shot glass close enough to smell it, I try not to gag. I hold my nose and stick just the tip of my tongue in. I feel the burn on my tongue. I see my mom smile as she saunters into the kitchen. “Oh, that will help you sleep. You’d be better just to swallow whole.” I direct the heavy shot glass towards my mouth, close my eyes to stop the tears from escaping, and say a little prayer that it will go down quietly. I toss the glass quickly, feeling the burn all the way down through my throat, my chest, and finally, to the pit of my stomach. I wonder if swallowing fire would burn less. As my head spins, I make my way to bed, hand over mouth, and hope I don’t throw up.

When I am fifteen and my dad moves out to his own apartment, I watch my mom open a bottle of wine to unwind after she gets home from a long day of work as a Delta Airlines Ticket Agent. I am sensitive to the fact that customer service is hard work and she needs to relax. Plus, I remind myself that we are celebrating her independence. I have a glass with her because I know she doesn’t like to drink alone. She picks her second favorite tonight—Beringer's White Zinfandel, because she knows I will have a drink with her, and as she pours the pink elixir all the way to the top, she smiles at me like she is giving me a precious gift. I take a sip before I spill it, then raise the glass to toast. I ask myself if I will ever start to like the taste of any liquor. I watch her finish the bottle while I am working on my first glass of the sweet pink drink. I look at her and say, “You are the coolest mom in the world” to remind myself—all my friends say so.

When I am almost sixteen, and my friends come in the front door to pick me up before the football game Friday night, my mom calls out from the kitchen “Stacey, Ronnie, can I make you a drink? I am having CC and diet!” Stacey and Ronnie excitedly exclaim “yes, please!” I go in the kitchen to try to slow her down and laugh when Stacey calls me by my nickname: The Gestapo. I roll with it. I watch my mom fill a red plastic cup three-quarters full with CC and secretly cringe inside as she adds a splash of diet coke. I grab Stacey’s car keys and announce that I will drive, even though I don’t legally have my license yet for another two months. I listen to my friends giggle about the strength of their cocktails, smile politely and nod sympathetically all the way out to the car as they tell me how cool my mom really is. I tell them I already know.

When I am sixteen and studying for my English final on Shakespeare tomorrow, my mom comes in my bedroom with my Aunt Mimi and Uncle Brent to tell me they are going up to the Peppermint Twist Bar for Country Night to dance. I tell them not to stay out too late and remind her not to drink and drive. Then, I follow her into the kitchen to watch as she pours three stiff Canadian Clubs with a splash of Diet Coke into red plastic cups and hands them to my aunt and uncle. They dash out the front door.

As I try to figure out Hamlet’s hamartia, I fall asleep slowly, book in lap, then wake up to the red digital clock announcing 2:45. I feel the stillness in the lonely house. I get up and check my mom’s room. I am home alone. I throw on ragged grey sweats and flip-flops, grab my car keys, and head up to the Peppermint Twist. I storm in the front door, ignoring the doorman who laughs at me in my sweatpants with my sixteen-year-old swagger. I look out on the dance floor and see my mom and aunt and uncle busting a move to Billy Ray Cyrus’s “Achy Breaky Heart.” I try not to explode with frustration. I watch them look up and see me. I stare, incredulously, as they run promptly off the dance floor to the bathroom—all three of them into the Men’s Room. I follow them in and tell them to get their asses in the car. I am sick of this. I tell them they are going to kill someone drinking and driving. They roar with laughter. I listen to them say my nickname: The Gestapo. I wonder if they even get the Hitler reference as they say that. I ask myself how they ever became ADULTS. But, as they start to follow me, I let out a sigh of relief because they are amicably leaving. At least this time. They grab their purses and coats, slam the last of their CC and diet cokes and follow me out. As we exit, my mom and aunt grab me by both arms (my uncle drags behind) and tell me how much they love me. I seethe with anger as they say their good-byes to their friends like rock stars saluting their fans. I congratulate myself that they follow me out.

In the car, I try hard to ignore their obnoxious singing to Garth Brooks playing on the radio. “I got friends in low places,” and louder—I wait for it “WHERE THE WHISKY DROWNS AND THE BEER CHASES.”  I cringe as they roar with car-shaking laughter. I vow silently to never pick them up again. I tell myself that I don’t care if they kill someone—that’s on them. I don’t admit to myself that I am lying.

When I get home, I watch them head for the liquor cabinet and make themselves another cocktail. I slam my bedroom door and scream “Fuck you guys!” I ignore the picture of my sister that falls off the hall wall and shatters. I am happy she is staying the night with her friend Dacia. I remind myself that I have to be up in three hours to take my English exam.

I consider going into the kitchen to grab a shot, but decide against it. Because I can’t stand the thought of looking at them. Because I have an English test in three hours. Because the sound of their laughter makes me want to run out there with a butcher knife. Because I resent the taste. Because I still haven’t figured out whether to be the sinner or the savior.  

One feels so right, but the other feels so easy.

Sherri Harvey spends her days pouring over words, galloping her horses, hiking with her dog, scaring her husband and drinking vodka, sometimes all at once. She has published in Eventing Nation and 3Elements Literary Review. She teaches English and Comparative Literature at San Jose State University. #sherricoyote

Pictured: Looking into the Sun, Colored pencil on paper, 2018. By John Collins, Taxicab Magazine’s Virtual Artist-in-Residence.