#Have some pretty big worlds in my head and displayed through folders of writing and doodles

[sol-dream-sentinel]

Thank you so much for drawing the grundy, it's too cute! I love this alien fella so much, it means a lot that youdrew one. Green is my favorite color for these guys so that's perfect! Your art style is incredible! It's insane how good you drew this Grundo. I need to see more of your creature art! Thank you again, I absolutely love it!

AAAAAHH!! Thank you kindly Anon!!! I do aim to post more of my art more often. ^-^

So if ya stick around you'll probably see a lot more over time. I'm drowning in it a little... and the insecurity of posting unfinished pieces holds me back... help heeha :D

*To hold ya over till my next art post, here's a green alien oc I drempt up a little over a year ago, and finally polished the design of this week. ~ Gently places this being into your hands*

This thing will definitely knock over random objects annnd might take your shiny green things... But it probably doesn't mean harm. ^-^

My main blog has some other art I've done for Mega Man Star Force stuff here and there. But this blog is the main melting pot for personal projects, other fan art, ect.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

happy 200! i’m so glad to see your blog grow, it’s one of my favorites and i adore all your writing. i’ve never cried so much and i love the kind of unsettling feeling you write in your fics, it’s perfect in the category of yandere and dark content. in particular, i loved your drabble about shigaraki mourning over a dead reader and i’ve reread that one too many times to count haha! as for asks for headcannons and drabbles, it would be amazing to see that with bully!eren especially since he was such an awful person to the reader. i’d love to see him suffer honestly, but if you don’t want to write it, that’s completely fine! once again, i’m so proud of you for hitting 200! that’s such a huge milestone and hopefully, there will be many more in the future! :)

SYNOPSIS: bully!Eren has to navigate the world without you.

Pairing: Bully!Eren x Fem!Reader

A/N: I can't even explain in words how much I CHEESED at this message like my grin was ear to ear. can't explain how many times I read this. It singlehandedly made my day anon, and to repay you for my happiness....here is some angst. this is a slightly different route than the shiggy one but I hope it still suits you <3

TW: mentions of death, past dubcon/noncon, mentions of trauma, bullying, alcohol addiction, drunk driving, abusive behavior, revenge porn, nonconsensual photography/videography, mentions of infidelity, angst, so much of angst, violent behavior

WC: 2.5k

It's not like Eren had been doing a lot of soul-searching. He's not delusional enough to label his half-assed epiphany of "maybe I'm a shitty person" as soul searching.

It's just the conversation with his very sick mother burned holes through the back of his mind. Carla had asked about you and why you don't come by the house anymore. How she missed baking with you in the kitchen, and how you sweetly smiled whenever you would see soft creamy peaks form in the meringue.

Eren felt like he was swallowing needles as he assured his mother with false truths, that nothing was going on and distance between childhood friends is natural, and if it means so much--ok ok he'll bring you over.

He stays until he sees her chest slowly rising and falling into a gentle asleep. He touches the tip of his ears, unsurprised by how hot it was.

Eren, when you tell a lie, the tips of your ears turn red.

You're not at school the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that.

Guilt is not an emotion he feels often but the events of the past weekend replay in his mind. It was just a dumb party that Floch threw, and he was surprised to find you cornered by a trio of thee dunderheads. Like a distorted fairytale, he swept you away from the bad guys like a knight in shining armor, to only shove you in an empty room and demand compensation for playing hero.

Fuck, with that big mouth, you would think that you'd know how to suck cock.

Use your tongue stupid slut. If you use teeth, I'll shove this dick in your ass without any prep.

No, I don't care, you're taking all of it.

There's a video on his camera roll. How could he not record it? You're sobbing, mascara running down your cheeks, looking so beautiful and ruined with jizz smeared at the corner of your mouth. He was brutally fucking your mouth, making you take all of his length.

Breathe through your nose dumb whore. Or else you're gonna run out of air.

You were pleading with whatever garbled sounds you were constricted into producing.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren is conflicted with muting the video because he can't stand to hear himself like that. But he didn't want to miss out on your pitiful whines.

He remembers the distraught expression on your face when he was finally done with you. He tucked himself inside, and sneered, "I've got a girl coming here. Get lost." You looked so fucking distraught. Why? All he did was make you suck his dick. He didn't even fuck you.

He should have. Eren thinks grimly when he stares at your empty desk on the first day you didn't show up to school. He's gotten off to the video more than enough times than he can count over the weekend, and he was aching to see your pretty face twisted into a terrorized expression when he flipped up your skirt to grope your ass.

Kindly, Eren decides he'd allow you to have a rest day. But the second day, Eren pays a visit to your house finding it dark and locked, like no one was home and hadn't been there for a while.

On the third day, you're declared missing.

Your incompetent workaholic mother who finally came home and decided to give a damn reported you missing to the authorities who had scratched their heads because as far as they knew, the pivotal 72 hours were up.

Paradis was surrounded by forests. No one wanted to say it, but they were all thinking it. If you got lost in there, chances are you wouldn't make it out.

Eren wasn't always this admired and fawned over. He had his fair share of behavioral issues that frightened people (not you though, not then at least, not when you were children, and you still came back every day to play).

But when he channeled that anger into sports, there was somewhat of a star in the making, especially for some small-town boy. He was becoming extremely popular, and that's nice and all, but at the end of the day, he has a mother whose health was taking a sharp decline. He was constantly under stress, stress that he took out on you.

Where did his favorite stress-ball go?

It's all fucking surreal. Having detectives in the school. Not that there were many students to question (because christ, did you even have any friends after Eren turned everyone against you?).

Eren was questioned. He can't help but mirthfully chuckle. Maybe this was your grand plan, maybe you were able to finally sort out a mountain of evidence against him. If you were going to fuck him over, didn't you want to see it happen with your own two eyes?

The dark-haired boy wishes that was true. If you had gotten your revenge, would you be here? No, revenge isn't the right word. If you got any justice for what he made you suffer, would you come back?

Hi, I'm Detective Hange. I would like to ask you some questions today. You're Eren Yeager, right?

Yes, that's me.

How do you know ___?

We were childhood friends. We're uh, we're not as close anymore.

When was the last time you saw her?

Friday night at Floch's party-

-Floch Forster right? There were a number of kids there from your school.

Yeah. It was a big party. She uh, doesn't usually come to parties but she was there that night.

You were the last person to be seen with her. Other kids have said that they saw you and her entering a room together, and then only her leaving the said room.

[Sigh] Yeah we sorta...hooked up.

I thought you said you guys weren't close anymore.

You can be not close to someone and still hook up with them.

But you guys were close once right?

Yeah. Once.

The dark-haired boy asks if he was under any suspicion. The detective waves their hand in a dismissive gesture, “If her diary tells us anything, it’s only that she really liked you.”

Were detectives even allowed to divulge that sort of information? Eren doesn’t know but the stray detail that they offered off-handedly made him feel like he was swallowing needles.

At that point, Eren honestly still doesn't believe you're gone. You had a habit of running away, even when you were little kids, but you always came back.

Still, he participates in the search parties with a renewed vigor, even going alone in the forest with a flashlight on most nights.

And he's just so fucking tired. The darkest crevice of his mind almost wishes you were dead because this ignorance was just agony. Almost. Because he still clings to the feeling that one day, he’ll stroll into class and find you in your seat in the back of the class, looking out the window like some cliche shojo manga protagonist.

There are folders and folders on his phone. Albums. The most recent one is dedicated to your crying face as you were choking on his dick. Earlier albums are composed of creepshots of your panties, of that obscene o-face, of your skirt flipped up and your ass cheeks, pictures of your cleavage, videos of you thrashing as he dunked your head into toilets like a villainous middle school bully.

Pictures of your neck covered in hickeys, your naked breasts, ass cheeks striped with red after getting spanked, your leaking cunt, just endless and endless media dedicated to pieces and pieces of your body like you were never a whole person.

The earliest ones though tell a different tale, from off-guards to your drooling face as you napped in the middle of the day.

He has a favorite picture. Your eyes are watery from the cold, snowflakes stuck between lashes, nose and cheeks flushed red, and you're smiling. Smiling right to the camera. Right at him.

"Eren, are you taking a picture?" You asked, bouncing in place, giddy that it was finally snowing.

"Not of you, shut up. Get out of the way." His voice is gruff but not harsh.

You laughed and jumped into frame anyway, and the bright streetlamp behind you made you seem like you were wearing a halo.

He wishes he had more pictures of you being...yourself. Because now your crying face displayed over countless pixels haunt him. But like a fucking degenerate, he still jerks off to all the nudes he coerced from you. Sometimes he cries when he's jerking off which is probably the most pathetic thing he's ever done. This is what you've reduced him to.

He hates the sound of his own voice.

Breathe through your fucking nose. This is for your sake. Otherwise, I don't mind face fucking your lifeless body. You'd be more useful that way anyways.

Eren goes through the motions of life without really feeling like he's in the moment. Seasons change and time flies. His mother dies, and his withdrawn father dies a year later. He proposes to Mikasa because it's something he was always supposed to do. She loves him unconditionally, so even when he doesn't put any effort into the relationship but proposes, she says yes hoping he'll change and be a good husband.

He doesn't go to his parents' funerals because they're already dead. What's the point. He doesn't visit the candlelight vigils in your honor either. After tearing his ACL again and a somewhat traumatic injury, he kisses his pro-football career goodbye. To be totally honest, he's relieved. Because he had gotten quite bored, and maybe he was looking for excuses to quit the entire time. It's not like you'd be cheering on the bleachers anyways.

Mikasa has an affair, more out of a desire to see her fiancé feel something for her as opposed to any burning lust. But when she asks him if he's ever cared at all, with tears springing out of her eyes, he's just calmly drinking his fifth of whisky.

The dark-haired man doesn't even look up, "Let's break up."

"Is this about her, huh? Fucking get over it already Eren. She's GONE. And you have some big fucking audacity moping about her death like you weren't making her cry in the bathroom stalls every fucking day you piece of shit."

"Get out."

"You know what, I bet she killed herse-"

SMASH

The dark-haired woman doesn't finish her rant because the whiskey bottle smashes on the wall next to her head, sending glass everywhere and staining the carpet amber. She's unharmed, knowing it wasn't Eren's intention to hit her but Jesus Christ, what a monster.

She packs her bags and leaves the town like she should have a long time ago. All her friends had left years before and she stayed behind because that's where Eren was. She thanks her lucky stars that they didn't marry.

It's funny because he had always imagined himself being the first to move out of their small town, but he's the one staying. He can't leave this place. feels too tethered to ever leave. Every diner and liquor store is saturated with memories of you. He remembers buying cigarettes and exhaling the smoke to your face to piss you off in empty parking lots.

Maybe he stays in case you'll come back.

Eren's days consist of alcohol-fueled hazes. He doesn't know how his liver is still functioning. He doesn't know he's still alive after crashing his car into a tree when he was drunk out of his mind. He was on his way to get some more vodka.

He barely recognizes himself in the mirror anymore, not that he looks at himself much. His hair is long, nestled around his shoulder because he couldn't be bothered to cut it, dark circles under viridian eyes, and a perpetual stubble on his jaw.

His parents had left quite a sizable inheritance so there's no need to work but he's good with his hands. Likes crafting up birdhouses and cabinets, and occasionally does odd jobs around the neighborhood, never charging the elderly.

He's under the sink, tinkering with a wrench against the pipes when he hears the old lady coo at him.

"We're so lucky to have you Eren. I'm surprised a handsome young man like yourself doesn't have a special lady. The girls must be lining up at your door!"

The dark-haired man winces, and offers no comment, knowing that that the older lady was susceptible to long tangents.

"You know, we're getting a new neighbor." Eren grunts as a response. "They're young, I've heard. Isn't that exciting? Oh my, Eren! I think they're gonna be living in the house right next to yours..."

He tunes out the rest of the conversation because doesn't really care. He just hopes his new neighbors are quiet.

It's Sunday noon when obnoxious noises of moving trucks and people wake him up from his deep slumber. Eren's annoyed to wake up despite the fact he's probably been sleeping over 15 hours. He oscillates between getting too much sleep and getting none, his sleeping habits completely dependent on his dreams.

His nightmares are too visceral, visions of your corpse asking him if he'd enjoyed hollowing your soul with his teeth.

His dreams are achingly sweet. You in your prom gown, shining so iridescently like diamonds were sewn into the silk. He's dancing with you, holding you close, and then after you guys go to your favorite diner and gorge on burgers and milkshakes.

There's a peal of distinctly feminine laughter that stirs up Eren's senses. He's so pathetic, was the mere sound of a woman laughing getting him excited?

He sighs. He thinks of the whore he's frequently visited because of her resemblance to you. Hair color, skin color, face shape--with enough alcohol, he could really convince the person beneath him, was you. Maybe it's time to give her a call, but she's gotten so fucking needy and he hated how her voice didn't match yours.

The green-eyed man peers from the lace curtains, irritated by the brats playing on his lawn. A full family next door? Great, just what he needs.

The friendly knock on his door breaks him out of his daze. He contemplates whether he should answer but on the second more muted knock, he lets his feet guide him.

He turns the knob.

And Eren Yeager completely shatters.

Because it's you isn't it? You're the person standing in front of him? He can hear what you're saying but he doesn't really register it, soaking in the cadence of a voice he had long forgotten because all he had were pleading whimpers and frenzied moans stored on his cell.

He's shaking. Is he dreaming? He's dreaming, right? He knows it's you. You're older, far more beautiful than he's ever seen you. You have a different hairstyle, wearing clothes he would have mocked you for, and there's this joyfulness within you that makes you glow.

There's a mess of emotions electrifying in the pits of his stomach from euphoria, anger, and dread. He could feel his skin growing clammy like he was about to vomit at any second.

"Hey, are you all right?"

Doe eyes full of concern peer up at him. He voices out the syllables of your name like a desperate prayer.

You tilt your head to the side, "How do you know my name?"

[steve0discusses]

The Full Metal Alchemist Live Action Movie Part 8: Watch This Episode Covered in Butts be the Only One Not Flagged by Tumblr

Gonna be risky business and not only upload all of these caps the way I screenshot them--which has just SO MANY poorly CGI’d butts but also gonna do it on the Tumblr Drafts folder, which I have been assured works now.

I’m so worried about so many things, but considering all the fears I have about like...everything else in the world right now...I guess I’ll take a risk on tumblr.

Edit: I cannot believe that I had 8ish episodes of Kaiba’s tall dueling tower get flagged but not this movie. I just....wow I cannot.

So anyway, last we left off, General Hakuro stepped in and was like “Hi guys, you like my wily plans that no one in their right mind would have ever guessed???”

Yo remember this part of the anime? Where the bodies drop from the ceiling and it’s a hunk out of the final arc--it’s here. In this movie. This movie that can’t possibly afford to do that. Lets get some CGI animated bodies in here ASAP.

(see some texture regrets under the cut)

It’s like a Monet, as the Mean Girls say, because far away and shrinked to 500 pixels this looks kinda neat. They sort of look more like those slime ball that grow in the back of your throat rather than human bodies, but they still look pretty gross hanging up there.

But then.....we zoom in. Remember again that this was full screen on my computer, and at one point was on a freakin movie screen. This level of 3d...was on a movie theater screen.

The mind boggles. The mind boggles!

Like as you know, I am an artist, and I’ve dabbled in...basically everything in my pursuit to make a dollar...and I have taken about 2 years of classes in 3D art with Maya and all those. I’m not thaaat great at it--I’m much more an illustrator/painter--but I feel like I have that reference point. Can I just say--the model is...fine...you can do a lot with layers of bump maps so you don’t need a truly detailed model (not like they did that, because they didn’t do that, but I can figure that maybe they had an intention to do that and forgot?)

But, there’s no connection of the wires to bodies. They just kinda float? The bodies are also all the same shiny-ness? To the point that it looks like a copy paste? (I don’t think it is, the wires are slightly different on a few of them) There’s just not much in the way of a texture map or a bump map. It just...there’s also something missing from the skin.

Skin is actually kind of rough to render, so when I did it back in the day, I followed like a checklist to make sure I had all the layers and steps to make someone look...clammy. Some things are kinda translucent, they reflect light a different way...especially white skin like this wouldn’t be just...white like putty. Dunno if you ever saw a white person, but we got so many veins...there was so much potential to make something really gross and fleshy.

Instead we got silly putty. It’s fine. I’m fine.

So General Hakuro decides to just...kill everyone right now.

This makes no sense to me.

That means that the whole thing of Lust killing Hughes was completely unrelated to General Hakuro. All Hakuro needed was Shou Tucker, who has been in prison for...I assume months since Ed shipped him off. And Shou was only released today? Just now? Just now when Hughes was shot?

So this all just happened at the same time by accident?

I mean the General sent us to the wrong lab initially, so he didn’t actually want us to be here, and now that we are here, he’s going to set off an entire army as a reaction to three people walking in and going “oops”?

So, lets get a look at our army.

Oh it was so disappointing, this reveal. Not just the eyeball that has a bounce light coming from below the top lip there (how did that even happen???) but also when it opened it’s mouth, it had a flat animation of skin breaking--it wasn’t actually rendered 3d skin, it was like a jpg wrapped around it or something (or at least that was the illusion I got. That is fine for a video game or a TV show, but this is a movie. This is shot so that it can be displayed in a size bigger than your own house.

What happened to the animation team on this one? Not saying I can do better, cuz no, I can’t, that 3d chapter in my life was a while back, but I’m just one guy. This was an entire animation studio and they just...didn’t render 3d face ripping (which is their entire job, to work in 3d) and then they kinda just turned on the stock physics dynamics and dropped em instead of animating them.

The way they fell was like fish from a bucket--the same amount of speed, too. they all ragdolled like a 3D shooter, their rigs just hanging on for dear life (and yes, you could see the deforming happen on the joints of these models.) I’m fine with having a computer program render something out with a physics engine...but there is a balance.

You do have to still go in there and finangle it back because...real life is hella stupid. Real physics? So stupid. It was hilarious how nonthreatening it was, too because they’re like...the size of shrimps in that zoom out image. The scale is just so wild!

It was like one bored guy in a sound booth and they multiplied his voice three times. Golden. Absolutely golden.

So these guys stride over, all of them with the same amount of speed (leading me to think it was probably a recorded walk cycle they all share with slight alterations between all of em) and they kinda just...pile on eachother in a weird way.

I will give them this: I was happy to see something that wasn’t physics or procedural. They mo-capped and animated that part for sure. It had the touch of an artist’s hand. It was also a very funny way for Hakuro to die because this guy was on screen for like 5 minutes, and maybe 7 minutes of this whole movie.

Youknow...I think it really says a lot about your nude 3d models if they’re not disturbingly human enough to trigger the tumblr filter, youknow?

Anyway, Envy looks on.

And then Gluttony saves the city.

Meanwhile, they decide to bust out the fire effects and Mustang becomes the most useful person in this entire movie. Like honestly this movie was poorly named, because it should have just been “Mustang saves the FullMetal Alchemist’s Entire Ass.”

The next part seems like I forgot a cap, or maybe missed something. I swear to you, I did not.

First off, Al becomes fullmetal and makes this happen without an alchemy circle. The show doesn’t really care to talk about that though, it’s just a thing he can do now, and you’d only notice it if you were writing a Tumblr post about it.

I swear to you, Winry is just inside of Al and there is no explanation.

There is no explanation for this.

She was on the couch...why is she not on the couch? What?

And then when you think they might have a moment, Ed’s like.

Damn.

For reals what the hell was that entire scene except for a way for Ed to get his arm stitched back on in like 2 minutes?

Outside, Envy and Lust are just strolling around the back-alley of this red brick building we have seen used for this entire movie.

And like...it’s so funny to me because they weren’t trying to run or hide. It makes complete sense why they got shot. This is what happens when you just...walk away when the whole military guard wants to kill you.

Now lets go see how Hawkeye is faring.

Luckily, all of the ambling bodies have decided to walk slowly through this one weird grass section between extremely long buildings.

And Hawkeye tells everyone “You have to shoot their heads off” and I want you to look at that scene and tell me how many of those bodies still have heads.

Oh, all of them. Don’t worry about it.

Kinda hard to see, but Ed shows up to give Mustang a hand, which was fully unnecessary but we’ll get to that in a bit.

This movie is such a gem.

Ed goes big brain and realizes that Envy is still burned up, and thus is about to pass on.

And whatever, I’ll take it. It’s not like the movie has told us that they are made out of 1000000 lives, for all we know, in the movie universe, they really are only 4 lives. Like half a cat. Maybe Father only killed half a cat instead of an entire city.

Yugi Muto would be so freakin proud of Envy for how often this guy gets hit square in the chest with fire balls. It’s basically every scene where Envy and Mustang share screen time.

And don’t worry, I don’t think Envy died? But they sure made it look like he did, which I’m sure everyone everywhere was really happy to see, since Envy’s death was one of the climaxes of the whole series. Like people used to make these lists of “top 10 saddest anime deaths” and how many people had Envy on there? Like everyone? People freakin love Envy and they did him so much dirty in this movie.

Again I have no explanation for Winry.

So Mustang is like, Ed, you make sure Winry doesn’t biff it in that corner, and I’ll do my actual job over here on this side. And yo, he did.

And so then that’s it, Lust is dead, and now we have a Sorcerer’s stone.

Man it looks delicious, right?

I’d eat the hell out of that.

Anyway, we only have one more update and we’re done with this movie!

I know!

I know! They only have 10-15 minutes to resolve pretty much everything, and that’s assuming that the credits don’t take up a heap of that. Hell, I might only have 3 caps next episode if that’s all credits. I honestly don’t remember.

Anyway, hope y’all take it easy this February, here is a link for people who just got here to read these FMA recaps in Chrono order.

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/fma/chrono

[counttotwenty]

TWW Fantasy Season 8:17 Like Being Pecked to Death by a Duck (Act 1)

Act 1

Interior-Josh's office

Wednesday afternoon

3:15PM

Before Donna even got all the way through the door Josh pointed an accusing finger at her. "It's all your

fault."

"How is it my fault," she laughed as he came out from behind his desk and kissed her on the cheek.

"Mansion Management said the electricity went out because there are too many Christmas lights

overloading the circuits. You were the one in charge of that. And a blackout is every bit as bad as a

little smoke so I never want to hear about almost setting the White House on fire again," Josh said

smugly as he leaned back against his desk, smirk firmly in place.

Donna realized she had to stop him before he got on a role so she did the only thing she could do. She

stepped closer to him, ran her hand softly up his sleeve, and pulled out the pout. "I didn't hang the

lights."

"But you did play a role in planning the insanely large Christmas display." Josh wasn't ready to give in

just yet.

"A small role," Donna conceded.

"AHA! So you admit the display is insanely large," Josh said triumphantly.

"It may be large," Donna huffed, flopping down into one of the visitor's chairs "but now that I think

about it it's more your fault than mine."

"My fault? How is it my fault?" Josh was incredulous.

"Did you or did you not come to me and tell me that the President thought Mrs. Santos was at loose ends

after he finally convinced her to give Peter some breathing room?"

"That sounds vaguely familiar," Josh mumbled.

Donna felt the balance shifting. "And did you or did you not suggest I find something for the First Lady to

funnel her excess energy into?"

"I don't recall that," Josh said, knitting his eyebrows as though he was trying to remember.

"Liar."

"So, are you telling me that this insanely large Christmas display is the product of Helen Santos'

re-directed energy?"

"Pretty much."

"And you had nothing to do with it?"

"I'm just the hired help."

"You didn't egg her on at all?"

Donna shook her head innocently. "No."

"I've been told that somewhere in this building there are animated elves making toys on a real moving

conveyor belt."

Donna tried to appear disinterested.

"The fountain out front has skaters on it."

"Really? I barely noticed." Donna picked at a non-existent piece of lint on her skirt.

"There's a gargantuan tree in the lobby."

Donna couldn't contain her enthusiasm any longer. "Isn't it gorgeous. It's the largest one they've ever

had here. There are 7,298 twinkle lights on it."

Josh smirked but before Donna could say anything else the door connecting to the Oval flew open and Helen charged in with Matt, and Martin the Mansion Manager in tow. "Tell them," she said pointing to Matt and Josh. "Tell them it wasn't our fault," Helen demanded.

"We've already gotten the preliminary report," Matt said. "There were too many lights..."

"Will you let the man talk please," Helen interrupted. "Tell them!"

Donna stood from her chair and moved to stand next to Helen in a show of decorating solidarity.

"The problem was actually with the wiring schematics that the electricians drew up when we initially

designed the display," Martin explained. "They placed too much of the electrical load on one side of the

building."

Donna and Helen were beaming at Martin like he was their hero. As eager as he was to please the leader of the free world there was something not at all unpleasant about having two gorgeous women looking at

him like he'd just solved all their problems.

"If things are so complicated we need a wiring schematic, aren't they already a little out of hand?" Matt argued.

"No, not at all," Martin replied. "We use schematics all the time to ensure there are no electrical

interruptions."

"Like all the lights going out you mean?" Josh snarked.

"The mansion electrical system is more than equipped to handle the 123,000 lights, 800 electric candles and 261 animated figures in this year's display." The more the women smiled at Martin the more determined he was to defend their insanely large Christmas display.

Donna and Helen moved a step closer to him and continued to smile.

"I've been around this place during a few Christmas seasons and isn't this display a bit large, even by

White House standards?" Josh asked.

Helen and Donna turned and scowled at him then turned expectantly back to Martin who suddenly felt trapped in the middle.

"I think it's an absolutely beautiful display," he said, trying to strike a balance between the two

camps. "It's a little larger than we've ever had before, definitely, but it's also one of the most

beautiful I've ever seen."

Matt and Josh shook their heads. It was clear Martin was more enthralled by the women than he was

intimidated by them.

"Thank you, Martin," Helen said. "YOU are a man of exquisite taste."

Josh and Matt scoffed.

"I think Donna, Martin and I should go check and make sure the outage didn't damage any of the lights,"

Helen said coolly. "Leave you boys to whatever it is you fill your days with."

Martin blushed beet red, then gallantly offered each woman an arm and the three of them left the office

without looking back.

CUT TO:

Interior-Lou's office

Lou sat behind her desk, her face a picture of frustration, flipping through the draft pages of latest section of the State of the Union address Otto had brought over for her to review. The young speechwriter was slouched on her couch, head back, eyes closed, rubbing his temples.

"This is disjointed. It's choppy." She threw the pages down on her desk.

"I know." Otto moaned.

It would be like sandpaper to the ear." Her voice was rising

"I agree. It's terrible. And you know why." Otto's voice was dangerously close to a whine.

"Don't start this again," Lou warned.

"It's true." Otto was adamant.

"It isn't true. Speech writing is your job. You do it every day. You don't need..."

"I do," Otto interrupted. "And you do too. And do you know why?"

"You're an idiot," Lou growled.

"It's because this is the State of the Union," Otto was undaunted. "This is the big one. We need to be at

the top of our game. And in order to be at the very top of game we need..."

"Don't say it!"

"...to have sex."

"I assure you, Junior, I've been at the top of my game many times without you around to have sex with," Lou argued.

"But that was before the campaign." Otto argued. "We've developed a block."

"A block?" Lou couldn't help but be amused.

"A block," Otto said, finally opening his eyes. "When it comes down to writing big monumental speeches-like election night acceptances and addresses to the nation-we just do better when we're totally in

sync...in every way...if you know what I mean." Otto waggled his eyebrows.

Lou rolled her eyes. "You're an idiot."

"So what do you say," Otto asked hopefully.

"I say get out of my office."

"Come on, I need to get this section done so we can show it to Josh. Don't you remember how productive I was back on the campaign trail when we were...you know...semi-regularly?"

"Idiot."

Otto pushed on. "Remember how I struggled with all my election night speeches. Then you did that thing where you tied me up and...you said yourself the stuff I wrote after that was some of my best work ever."

"That is true," Lou acquiesced.

Otto could feel that he was winning her over. "We have three major sections of the State of the Union to get done by the end of the week," he wheedled.

There was a long pause during which he could almost see the wheels turning in Lou's head.

"Have you had lunch yet," she asked as she reached into her desk drawer and grabbed her purse.

"No." Otto sat up eagerly.

She extracted her keys from her purse and tossed them to him. "Tell Patty you're heading out for a late

lunch then go to my apartment and wait for me there. I'll be about fifteen minutes behind you."

CUT TO:

Interior-Sam's office

"Your assistant said I could come right in," Ainsley said quietly as she entered Sam's office and stood in

front of his desk.

"No problem," he replied, pushing away the file he was working on. "I'm just waiting for a call back from

someone at State. What do you need?"

"I have some notes on the water standards bill that goes up to the Hill next week. I came up to give them

to Bram since he's the point man on this but I can't seem to find him. Do you have any idea where he is?"

Sam chuckled. "In his secret hideout I would imagine. He's a nervous wreck over this thing. It's the first

big project he's headed up and he wants to impress Josh. He's been slipping off somewhere quiet to work. He says the bullpen is too noisy and chaotic."

"That's sweet," Ainsley drawled. "Though I'd recommend if he wants to succeed in the White House he gets used to noisy and chaotic. There aren't any major issues as far as I can see. I marked a few small things." She handed Sam the folder. "He can get back to me if he has any questions."

"Thanks, Ains."

"My pleasure. Is there anything else you need from me?"

"Not unless you have some contacts at State. I can barely get a call back from them today. I'm trying to

get everything they have on the elections office that blew up in Kazakhstan."

"I might know a few people," Ainsley offered.

"Seriously?"

"I can try. The worst they can do is not return my calls," she said cheekily.

CUT TO:

Interior-Lester's Office

Annabeth is here to see you," the voice over the intercom on Lester's desk said.

"Send her in."

"I heard you had a lot going on today so I thought I'd drop in and see if you needed any help." Annabeth

chirped as she entered the office.

"Are you serious?" Lester asked gratefully.

"Absolutely. The First Lady's press office is kind of quiet today."

"I do not have that problem here at all. I'm swamped and I need to synthesize about 50 pages of information on three different subjects before my next briefing in 40 minutes."

Annabeth held out her hand and Lester mouthed 'thank you' as he handed her 20 pages of notes on US Postal Facility substations. "You are an absolute angel."

"I expect to be paid in pastries," Annabeth smiled as she took a seat on Lester's couch.

"Deal."

CUT TO:

Interior-West Wing Lobby

"Thank heavens none of these lights burned out when the circuits blew," Helen said as she and Donna gazed lovingly at the towering tree in the middle of the room. "I'm would have hated for the tree to only be

half twinkling while I'm giving Matt Lauer a guided tour of all the White House decorations live on Today

in the morning."

"I don't care what Josh says, these decorations are gorgeous," Donna said as she fingered one of the

beautiful gold Christmas ornaments. The entire tree was decorated on gold balls, red velvet bows, and tiny white twinkle lights. Donna thought it was absolutely stunning.

"The boys are just being grumpy. Trust me, Matt's going to pay for all his mocking," Helen assured her.

"He needs to be taught a lesson about the proper spirit of Christmas."

"A lesson?"

"I think I'll make him assemble Miranda's dollhouse. The box says over 300 pieces."

Donna laughed. "That'll teach him."

"You'd think he'd have learned by now. At some point every year during the holiday season he tries to pull

this Grinch act and he always gets punished."

"Whenever I accuse Josh of not being appropriately festive he falls back on the old 'it's not my holiday'

line."

"How convenient for him," Helen smirked. " How do you two handle the holidays? Do you exchange Christmas gifts? Do you celebrate Chanukah?"

"Josh has never been very observant, at least not since I've known him, but I try to incorporate

Chanukah celebrations as much as I can. And as far as Christmas go--Josh is actually a surprisingly good gift giver."

"Huh! I never would have guessed. That puts the pressure on you. Have you picked out his present for

this year?"

"I have," Donna answered excitedly. "When we were in Hawaii he fell in love with the work of one of the

local artists. I commissioned a piece for his office."

"Really?" Helen seemed impressed. "That sounds great."

"I hope he likes it." Donna couldn't figure out why she was so nervous about the gift except for the fact

that this was their first year together and this was the first time she'd had enough money to buy him a

somewhat extravagant gift.

"I'm sure he will."

"How's your shopping going, Ma'am?"

Helen laughed. "I can never thank you enough, Donna, for introducing me to the marvel that is online

shopping."

"My pleasure."

"There's nothing like the rush of entering your credit card number...well...not my credit card number, the

one the Secret Service provides me. Then we have to fill out about 10 forms...well really you fill them

out, right?....then we reimburse...I'm not sure who we reimburse. Then they have to clear the packages

through security. So maybe it's not exactly simple and easy."

"But it still beats the crowded mall," Donna offered.

"That it does."

"Do you ever wonder if they think it's a prank when they see the address 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue?"

"I hadn't thought of that," Helen giggled.

"Just be careful what you order. If you ever need anything...you know....." Donna blushed.

"Pornographic?" Helen arched an eyebrow.

"Yes," Donna laughed. "If you need anything of that nature, and I'm not insinuating you would, I'm just

saying, if you..." Donna was rambling and the blush on her cheeks was getting deeper.

"So you're saying don't order stuff like that online?"

"Exactly."

"So if I was to have a need for something from Boyland how should we handle that?"

"Boyland?" Donna choked.

"I found it the other night while I was surfing the net looking for a game to buy Matt. You really have to

be careful about typing something like 'adult toys' into Google. I learned that lesson fast."

"I'll keep that in mind," Donna choked.

"You know, since Matt got elected President he's really been into some serious Commander in Chief role

playing. Sometimes we need props."

Visions of ugly headlines darted through Donna's mind. "Props?"

"Sure. They have some great riding crops and satin lined handcuffs. Actually what we really need is a

good saddle."

Finally Helen couldn't hold back her laughter anymore and Donna realized she was being hazed. "No problem, Ma'am. We'll ask Bram to get it for you," she laughed.

CUT TO:

Interior-Josh's office

"There's absolutely no chatter out there about threats in Kazakhstan or anywhere in the surrounding region," Sam said as he entered Josh's office. "Every person I've talked to is as surprised as we are."

"Maybe we'll get lucky with this one," Josh looked up from the file he was reading and Sam noticed his hair was more askew than usual.

"I hope so." Sam flopped down in Josh's visitor's chair and sighed, showing no sign whatsoever of

leaving.

"Is there anything else," Josh asked.

"No."

"And yet you're still here."

"The guys are in my office."

"The guys?"

"Yeah, you know...with the monitors and the stern

looks."

"Oh, the HazMat guys."

"Yeah. I haven't heard any of their little monitors start beeping yet so that's gotta be a good sign,

right?"

"Probably." Josh tried to go back to reading the briefing memo in front of him.

"And I haven't seen any of them running for the parking lot."

"That's a plus." Josh was barely paying attention.

"And none of them look especially...."

"Sam!"

"What?"

"Do you really have nothing to do?"

"I'm in wait and see mode right now," Sam defended.

"Ooo-k."

"So....you're really thinking about proposing tonight just...at home and everything?"

"I was," Josh said, giving up on reading the memo. "But you've all made it very clear that would be a

mistake."

"What you need is nature."

"So you said."

"You say you don't like the idea of cherry blossoms? Who doesn't like cherry blossoms?"

"I like the idea of cherry blossoms fine. I was just hoping to do it a little sooner than spring." Josh ran

his hands through his already messy hair.

"Wait, I know." Sam's eyes lit up. "There's gotta be a snow festival going on somewhere."

"A snow festival?"

"Yeah...you know...ice carving and cross country skiing and the wonder and magic of winter nature. It's

just like spring nature only colder."

Josh laughed. "I always pictured a proposal with somewhat less outerwear than I would imagine a snow

festival requires."

"Trust me on this, Josh. Women are suckers for the wonder and magic of nature."

"Go back to work."

End Act 1

[lady-divine-writes]

Klaine one-shot - “The Pussy Collector” (Rated PG13)

Blaine has been crushing on assistant fashion editor Kurt Hummel since the first day he started interning at Vogue. They spent almost every lunch hour together, and he thought Kurt might feel the same way. But after he gets hired on and transferred to Kurt's department, Blaine overhears some conversation that gives him a reason to think differently.

To think that, despite all of their many heart-to-hearts, he may not know the first thing about Kurt Hummel. (2518 words)

A/N: I hate this one, just so you know. Vogue Kurt. Different first meeting. Fluff. Blah-blah.

Read on AO3.

“Oh my God, Kurt! She’s beautiful!” Rachel coos, taking the phone from her best friend’s hands to get a better look at the picture on the screen.

The picture of a gorgeous woman, if her reaction is anything to go by.

“I know, right?” Kurt swipes the screen to reveal the next few pictures. “And forward, too! She came right up to me and sat on my lap without me having to say a word.”

Rachel bumps Kurt’s shoulder, shooting him a sly and secretive look. Behind his computer screen, Blaine scowls. Lucky tramp, he thinks, imagining himself getting up from his chair and sitting in Kurt’s lap, running his fingertips up and down the soft skin of his neck, nuzzling into his shoulder. But no. Apparently, that honor is reserved for rando floozies Kurt meets when he travels for business.

Blaine switches tabs and, for a brief second, catches a glimpse of his reflection in his screen. He looks angry. He looks bitter.

He looks jealous, and that’s not a good look for him.

Who is he to judge Kurt for the life he leads? If Blaine wasn’t crushing on Kurt, he wouldn’t care what the man did when he went out of town. If Blaine is ever lucky enough to get a chance with Kurt, he’ll have to spend a lot of time making up for all of the mental slut-shaming he’s done when he was really just angry at himself for being a coward.

“Why didn’t you bring her home?” Rachel asks, as if that’s even an acceptable question.

“Because who says she wants to get on an airplane and come all the way to the Big Apple?” Kurt takes his phone back and gazes fondly at the image on the screen. “Besides, I’ve got three at home as it is. Who knows if they’d get along?”

Kurt sighs.

Rachel nods in silent agreement.

Blaine’s head snaps up so quickly that he gives himself a cramp. Three at home? What the---? How did Blaine not know that Kurt lived a polyamorous lifestyle? They work at Vogue, the hub of gossip here and abroad. If the vending machine at their office in Paris runs out of gummy bears, everyone hears about it! How did something like this fall under the radar? Why hasn’t Isabelle run a whole feature on him? She eats, what she captions, “alternative lifestyle” stuff up!

“Nope,” Kurt continues as the cramp in Blaine’s neck begins to sting. “Better to let her stay where she is and make her own way in the world. Who knows? Maybe I’ll go back soon and see her again.”

“Yes, but in the meantime …” Rachel cozies up to Kurt with a giggle “… tell me about this trip to Milan you’re taking.”

Blaine tunes out momentarily while Kurt launches into his itinerary for the latest trip to Italy he’d been cleared to take, covering the battle of the big league fashion houses. It was enough to make Blaine pea green, if he wasn’t already.

He doesn’t begrudge Kurt his fabulous life. The man has definitely earned it, what with the hours he puts in … the life he’s endured. He was bullied throughout high school (just like Blaine); moved to New York from Ohio with no college acceptance, no plans for the future (just like Blaine); started out an intern (just like Blaine); and look at him now – traveling the world, meeting famous fashion designers, writing about their passions and their inspirations. That’s exactly the kind of life Blaine wants to have some day. But he’d also like a life where he meets a kind, compassionate, handsome man and falls in love; one where they enjoy simply being in each other’s company - spending long nights on the couch eating ice cream and watching trash TV, cooking experimental meals together, making love till they know they’re going to be late for work in the morning. That man could be a self-made millionaire or an elementary school teacher, as long as the two of them connect.

He thought he and Kurt had.

Kurt had even kissed him once – one of those continental type kisses on both cheeks, but followed by a gaze so deep Blaine felt it in his toes.

Blaine got to know Kurt from the times he goferred between floors. That’s how Blaine learned the details of Kurt’s life – everything from how he took his coffee to how he got into fashion. And vice versa. Some days they’d only talk in passing. Other days, they’d sit at Blaine’s makeshift desk in the back corner of the office and conversate over lunch.

Those were the best lunches of Blaine’s life.

Blaine hadn’t sat in on too many of Kurt’s conversations with his colleagues during that time. But from the second he was hired on and promoted to Kurt’s department (a career leap he had hoped Kurt had something to do with), he got a front-row seat to all of the gritty gossip.

Including Kurt’s numerous sexual trysts, both male and female.

That took Blaine by surprise. He was sure Kurt was 100% gay. If he identifies as bi or pan or something else in between, Blaine doesn’t care.

He just wishes Kurt would give him a chance.

Blaine enjoys his new job. He enjoys finally feeling like an integral part of the Vogue machine. And one of the biggest perks of his job is seeing Kurt for eight hours straight.

But they rarely get to talk anymore.

Blaine misses the one-on-one time he spent with Kurt. Up here, amongst Kurt’s entourage, they don’t get too many chances to talk alone.

Blaine has started to think that Kurt had little to nothing to do with his transfer upstairs after all.

“Hey, Blaine!” Kurt says, interrupting Blaine’s thoughts and helping himself to a seat on the corner of Blaine’s desk. “How was your weekend?”

“Not as exciting as yours,” Blaine says, trying to sound good-natured. It comes across a little less than to Blaine’s ears, but not to Kurt’s, who barely seems to be listening, still flipping through the photos on his phone.

“Well, traveling for work can be exciting, but to be honest, my favorite weekends are the ones I get to spend in the comfort of my own home, curled up on the sofa with a good book, a cup of coffee, a little companionship …” Kurt pauses as if he’s waiting for an answer, some sort of commiseration, but Blaine doesn’t know how to give it. After all, Blaine spent the weekend alone with take-out Chinese food and his guitar while Kurt wooed beautiful women in exotic locales. “Speaking of, did you want to see some pictures from my trip?”

“Oh.” Blaine swallows hard. Did he want to see pictures from Kurt’s trip? After hearing what Rachel had to say, probably not. But maybe … yes? If only to see what kind of person turns Kurt on. Blaine has seen photos from some of Kurt’s previous trips, but he’s never been privy to the photos he shows Rachel.

The ones with his lovers in them.

During the entire time they spent getting to know one another, Kurt never mentioned having one-night stands abroad or a harem of lovers at home.

Could this be a way of broaching the subject?

“Sure. That sounds like … fun.”

“Great!” Kurt scrolls to the beginning and hands his phone over. Blaine takes a deep breath, readying himself for the unimaginable, the sordid … and the heartbreaking. Then dives in.

The photos Blaine flips through are pretty run-of-the-mill as far as business trip photos go – Kurt standing shoulder to shoulder with Michael Kors; Kurt in a group shot with the models from the Victoria’s Secret show; Kurt modeling a suit from Alexander McQueen’s new line; Kurt eating dinner with Altuzarra, Proenza Schouler, Thom Browne, and Rodarte; and so on and so on. Nothing too shocking or risqué there, if you overlook the appetizer on the table. God, that’s a lot of cheese for one plate of stuffed mushrooms.

Blaine reaches the end, shaking his head at how unexceptional those pictures were. He doesn’t understand. Aside from what looked like staged photos with models and group photos with colleagues, Kurt’s photographs didn’t have a single woman in them, not one behaving anything close to intimate.

Not at all what Blaine was expecting, unless …

“Um, forgive me for asking, Kurt, but … are these all the photos? I mean …” Blaine gulps, questioning in his own mind if this is an avenue he wants to travel. In the end, he decides yes. Better to know the truth now, full disclosure, before he gives his heart to this man any more than he already has “… it seemed like you were showing Rachel … other photos.”

Kurt quirks a brow. “Oh!” He takes his phone back. “I didn’t think you’d want to see them.” He swipes through folders, then selects one. “You seem like more of a dog person to me.”

“Oh,” is all Blaine can say because that response is kind of … confusing? Was that code? A lot of the people in the office had one. So, were men dogs? Because, otherwise, how can the opposite of woman be dog?

Even without a logical explanation, that sounds sort of rude. Blaine didn’t think that Kurt was that kind of person.

He’s not, Blaine realizes, when Kurt hands him back the phone with the new photos displayed on the screen.

“Kurt” - Blaine swipes through the pictures – artistic, spectacularly composed pictures - with a renewed sense of confusion wrinkling his brow - “these are cats.”

“I know.” Kurt sighs, looking at the pictures from over Blaine’s shoulder. “Aren’t they precious?”

“I … yes, but I …” Blaine hands Kurt back his phone, unable to come up with a coherent sentence “… I don’t understand.”

“Photographing stray cats is a thing with me.” Kurt opens another folder on his phone. This time, instead of handing it to Blaine, he pulls up a chair beside him so he can show him for himself. “Funny when you consider I wasn’t exactly a cat person back in Ohio.”

“Why is that?” Blaine takes this opportunity to pull himself closer under the guise of getting a better look. He breathes in through his nose, the scent of Kurt’s cologne pleasantly subtle, the warmth of his body bleeding through Blaine’s shirt sleeve where his arm rests beside his.

It’s not sitting in Kurt’s lap, but it’s nice.

“In a place like Ohio, stray cats are a menace. They attack native birds and wildlife, get into the trash, poop in your yard. They’re a nuisance in general.”

“I remember.” Blaine chuckles, recalling how his mom’s marigolds were decimated one summer by a local tom cat who wouldn’t stop spraying them.

“But city cats are different. They have an air of sophistication, a wisdom about them. They have scars. They’ve been through things. You can see it in their eyes.” Kurt swipes through photograph after photograph of cats he’s found in New York: sitting on a trashcan in the alley behind his loft, on the steps of the public library, lying brazenly beneath a table at The Four Seasons. “I’ve been photographing city cats ever since I moved to New York. And when I travel and I feel lonely, I roam the streets wherever I am and take pictures of them. I’ve found them in every city from L.A. to India. It makes me feel connected to home. That’s why I have three of them.” He switches to a picture of what Blaine assumes is Kurt’s living room. He sees three cats lying on his sofa – a sleek, black Siamese, a fluffy Maine coon, and a straggly, orange, short-haired beast of a tabby. “Well, I don’t exactly own them. They come to my fire escape and I feed them. I let them inside when it’s raining out. The Siamese I know lives at the bodega down the street, and I think I might be co-opping the tabby with my neighbor.”

Blaine watches the photos change as Kurt swipes them, the three cats lying around his loft as if they own it – draped over the back of the sofa, congregating in a single patch of sunlight, drinking out of bowls on the kitchen table. “That’s … kind of romantic.”

“That’s me.” Kurt shrugs. “Just a silly romantic.” He swipes through the pictures a moment longer before he chooses to speak again. “That’s kind of something I wanted to discuss with you.” He switches off his phone and puts it in his pocket, guaranteeing that he has Blaine’s complete attention.

“Oh?”

“You know, after Isabelle hired you, I had you transferred up here so I could spend a little more time with you …”

“You … you did?” Blaine asks, his heart creeping up his throat.

“Yup. But unlike a lot of the people in this department, you actually spend your time working, so that plan hasn’t gone off nearly as well as I’d hoped.”

“Well, at least now I can afford to pay my rent, so I do thank you for that,” Blaine teases to keep the flirtatious nature of this conversation going. But Kurt nods like that statement might be changing his mind about what he’s mulling over in his head, and Blaine immediately regrets saying it. But before he can backpedal, Kurt asks, “Do you think you could afford to spend a little time away from your apartment and go on a special assignment … with me?”

“What kind of assignment?” Blaine asks, trying to play it cool, recover from his flirting faux pas … none of which he accomplishes when his voice hikes up a few notes.

“Have you ever been to Milan? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but my itinerary is packed so tight, it squeaks.”

“I … hadn’t really noticed,” Blaine admits, since he’d tuned Kurt out while he was discussing it. “But I can imagine.”

“It would make my life a helluva lot easier if I had an assistant,” Kurt explains as he inches closer. “You know, someone to juggle my appointments, manage my notes, help with my editing, join me for dinner, maybe a nightcap …”

“Are we allowed to do that?” Blaine asks, praying he and Kurt are on the same page and that he’s not reading too deep into a very platonic invitation to join him on a business related venture.

“Well, there’re no rules at Vogue against employees dating, as long as we’re not obnoxious about it. That is … if that’s something you’d like?”

Blaine chews his lower lip, all pretense of cool, calm, and collected thrown completely out the window. He can’t think of a single thing he’d like more right now than a date with Kurt. “Does this mean you’re going to introduce me to your cats?”

“Blaine” - Kurt puts a bold hand on his knee - “going to Milan will only be our first date. Meeting the cats is a second date activity.”

*** This was originally titled "Cats-anova" but I figured that would be too big a give away xD