#I am obsessed with his walk cycle like bitch what are you doing

[tatsrei]

I remember seeing here on Tumblr a post about how originally the White Lady was supposed to be dead while the Pale King was still alive (the statues in the church where WL has a crack on the head and Dryya going mad over the loss of her queen).

I can't find the post anymore but I found a cool addition:

Originally inside the White Palace you were meant to meet a "lone survivor" shuffling in the uppermost chambers. Who else could it be.

Actually I believe the final version fits better but, despite this text is very outdated, I find interesting that the PK is described as shuffling, because the more I look at his walk cycle the more I think he is dragging himself rather than slithering. The way his cloak moves is a bit of weird and I don't really know how to explain it, it does give the impression of a slither, but the general proportions make me wonder how the hell it would happen.

Whatever, I am not really sure. He just looks weird.

[osakanone]

Nothing I say is non-fiction; It simply hasn't happened yet. *

{\_/} Hi, I'm [H]Osaka, ( • . •) ask me a question / >♥️ 𝗧𝗥𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗠𝗘, 𝗜'𝗠 𝗔 𝗥𝗔𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗧 ░

Equal parts software shoggoth to seven constant rabbits in a trenchcoat, robot-obsessive, machinefucker, human-factors engineering and I can be trusted around nuclear technology. I effortpost walls of autistic special interest on demand

I also make things:

Game Projects

Project Force: 6dof aerodynamic high speed robot action [ongoing] Inspired by Armored Core For Answer, Freespace 2, Zone of the Enders 2 & Ace Combat 3, this game aims to merge their elements into a high speed mech sim.

Writing on mecha

The evolution of the walking thing called “mecha"  (original)

Chapter 0: Establishing terminology & Concepts

Part 1: Defining "the mechaness" of something: the 8 principles of mecha Part 2: Feisability: Mecha aren't realistic, but not for the reason you think

Chapter 1: A pathway from today to tomorrow How does "mecha" come into existence/why would you want one?

Part 1: An evolution from ground vehicles of today Part 2: Skating, to walking, to running, to flight Part 3: “Why transform in the vacuum of space?”

Chapter 2: Cockpit & Software Design Control Theory The principles which become my game design

Part 4: On Mecha Control Theory: Considerations Part 4a: On Mecha Control Theory II: OKAWARA Part 4b: On Mecha Control Theory III: TOMINO  Part 4c: On Mecha Control Theory III: NAGANO

The World of Armored Core

An exploration of the world of Armored Core, using research into real phenomenon and engineering systems to infer how the world may itself function

Kojima particle physics (part 1): What are they? Kojima particle physics (part 2): The Human Consequences NEXT cockpit design (part 1): AMS and Lynx NEXT Cockpit Design (Part 2): G-force Tolerance Technocrat is SpaceX, and the legacy of Musk’s father (lmao)

How To Domesticate Your Pilot [ongoing]

A husbandry guide for handlers, consisting of opinions and thoughts from various trainers and operators, as well as pilots. Includes practices, procedures, articles, stories and snippets.

I'm currently testing the waters with snippets and will likely be posting it out of order. I am extremely hungry for any and all possible feedback

If anybody knows the original source of the image of the eyes (which I first saw in a youtube ad) I'd love to know. I very much would like to commission them.

Inspired by mechposting

Chapter 3: Do not Abuse Your Wolves (Psychological patterning) Part 1: Action patterning (Initial Phases) Part 2: Action Patterning (Risks)

On visual mecha design: My personal thoughts on the assemblies of shape, form in the context of motion, action and function 1. Does anybody else have physical characteristics they find the most appealing? 2. Thoughts on self-altering dynamic form, and proportion designs

#Mechposting

I'm not great at it, but I do enjoy doing it

1. The eroticism of the machine: Megastructures 2. Crew Attire for piloting a giant robot (includes #mechposting patch list) 3. Crew attire for things other than piloting a giant robot 4. Beyond pilebunker: The Grind-blade and the legacy of Overweapons 5. FLAT/Touchscreens are an act of hate: I will teach you love 6. You do not need to pick between a big hammer or daggers if you are a robot

Irreverent incorrect nonsense

Loud writing you don't need to read

"I experience depression as a failure of resource allocation systems" Fool!: Your nostalgia isn't real: Your past has been stolen from you! Why Linux diehards are morons, and so are we Lame? Bitch please: Clubbing deserves to go extinct Feeling used: The eternal disappointment of the Sawano Drop Cycles of Nostalgia: Nobody is going to be nostalgic for Corporate Memphis

Misc

​Sex-positivity, associations, critical thinking & deradicalization 🇸​​🇮​​🇨​​🇰​​🇧​​🇪​​🇦​​🇹​​🇸​ ​🇹​​🇴​ ​🇸​​🇪​​🇪​​🇰​ ​🇦​​🇳​​🇩​ ​🇩​​🇪​​🇸​​🇹​​🇷​​🇴​​🇾​ ​🇹​​🇴​: A #mechposting playlist [ongoing] Left Hand/Right hand [gone]-- Mechposting vibes soundwall Pixelart: A very silly computer design that makes me smile Sounds for violence: Mecha games vs FPS games

Cohost account

[gayratarchive]

Haii:3

I don't really know what I want this to be exactly. Maybe a sort of a nature trail walk of my feelings about gender and sexuality bc WOO MAMA I'm feelin fluid and there will be fluids. All I know right now is I want to get back into writing and what better way is there to do that than use it as a tool to work through the confusing but beautiful experience that is queerness. I feel as though I'm cracking the shell that has held me prisoner for two decades. A spider itching and twitching as it senses the coming molt of a body born anew.

I had a tumultuous winter with the lovely doll that is seasonal depression with a dash of destructive limerence to top it all off. To make it a truly delicious cocktail I had this deep, guttural feeling of wanting to crawl out of my skin. To fall away from my flesh, muscle, and bone and hoping it would put a stake in the heart of my depressive cycles and obsessive behavior. I wanted nothing more than for Mother Nature to absorb me into her hearth of lichen and moss. I missed the blazing sunsets and cacophany of cicadas that were everpresent in the early years of my life in the countryside. I longed for the comforting blanket of night where I felt like the only person on the planet, looking up at the constellations from the boulder in my front yard and never once feeling lonely. What happened to the blond toddler who loved his mother and danced in the rain til his socks soaked?

Underneath all these feelings of emptiness and longing for a time where I believed I was happier, there was a whisper of questioning. Something that told me I should start to explore my gender and sexuality on a deeper level. I can finally feel the layers of self-resentment and shame peeling away. I have grown to love my body for what it is, my body dysmorphia was an issue I struggled with for years on end. I feel comfortable being single and don't have the obsessive hopeless romantic longing for a partner or at least someone to obsess over for a week. I have jumped the two biggest hurdles that have hindered me in finding who I am at my core. It's finally time that I fall in love with myself, whoever that self may be. (◕‿◕)♡

FUCKKKKK that felt so fucking good to clack out. I am soo cunty 50s secretary at her typewriter occasionally taking a drag from her cigarette (I'm on my laptop and hitting the vuse). But RAHHH this is only the exposition bbygrl, I had to lay a good foundation for what's to come.

For right now, I'm playing around with the name Garnet and using it interchangably with Garrett. Using any pronouns feels very affirming right now. And the gag is on you bitches bc u can't misgender me LOLZ. But yeah :) this was very cathartic to write, and I'm very excited to see where this ritual takes me. Closed captioning for today's program is brought to you in part by peanut m&m's and Chappell Roan.

*kisses you genderly* Garrett/Gayrat/Garnet 3/25/24 12:25 AM

[faceofpoe]

For the ask -- 22, 23, 30

Share an excerpt from your favorite scene

Ooh. What to choose, what to choose...

From The Thing Itself part 4:

“No training lasers in here,” Hochek said softly at his side. “Let’s see what you’ve really got.”

Cassian stared at him for a long moment. Looked at the blaster in his hand, the empty holster on the major’s hip where the sidearm usually rested, and felt the briefest, vicious pull. So close he’d hardly need to aim. The fantasy of walking alone from this room, dead officer in his wake, seeing how far he could get before someone noticed him, taking as many down with him as he could manage.

There was a test in it, and rage swelled inside him. He turned and fired three shots in quick succession at the nearest three targets. A display appeared on the barrier marking the firing position, noting his scores. Good, not great, hitting them solidly but well shy of center mass.

“You’re overcompensating; expecting a harder kick, used to a heavier weapon.”

“I’ve been in a cage since I was thirteen,” Cassian bit out, straightening his posture and firing at the next three targets. “I’m not used to anything.” Clem’s old Bryar out at the junkyard, learning how to cycle the barrel and ‘Don’t tell Maarva’ and -

“Breathe in and sight; count on the exhale and fire on three.” The last of his next three hit dead center. “Good.” And softer: “Someone taught you well.” Hochek didn’t flinch, didn’t move in the slightest when the barrel of the pistol was aimed straight at his face a split second later. “But you’re not a killer, are you?”

The visible trembling of his hand, the damp tracks on his cheeks, only stoked the embers further. “What difference does it make?” His voice at least was steady. “You didn’t bring us here to kill, you brought us here to die.”

Share the final version of a sentence or paragraph you struggled with. What about it was challenging? Are you happy with how it turned out?

Okay this was hard but finally settled on a piece from Clarity of Purpose. Part 4.

Organa laughs, open and delighted. “A wiser man than me. You have me at the advantage, but perhaps that’s to be expected.” Luthen runs renewed equations on how much is worth the risk divulging here and now, and wonders if he dares tell the man that they’ve been in a room together before. “In truth,” the senator muses before Luthen can make up his mind, “the regrettable incident on Miser – and, if you don’t already know, the ISB has made the ID – it came quick on the heels of a very great loss, the type that… rather shakes one’s faith in the purpose of it all.” He frowns down at his desk, lets the great weight of his troubles show through, just for a moment. “I suppose I was inclined to find some sign in it. And some conversations… demand directness, and damn the risk.”

This whole chapter was challenging for all scenes involving Luthen because he cycles through nerves, relief, shock, hope (dare I say even optimism??), and self-reflection and feels, and none of these come easy to tackle for the grumpy son-of-a-bitch LOL.

But I'm a little obsessed with the eps 11-12 unraveling of Luthen in the wake of Lonni's news and his desperation to find Cassian, and so it was fun to play with another series of events that shake him out of taciturn and uncompromising spy mode. This one was esp hard because finding Bail at the center of this web he's been chasing down was more important than the whole drawn-out convo that assuredly ensued, and so on the one hand we have legitimately shocked Luthen and on the other needing to do justice to Bail's short appearance and dialogue to get the point across without dragging the scene into territory that wasn't really necessary for the point of the fic.

Am happy enough with it but a bit...hm. Like - I want more, I just think it belongs to another (unwritten) fic.

What’s something that you want to write in 2024?

Been on a little writing break from Tether this past week, with plans to tackle the Yavin-Scarif leg of the story in the new year.

Have a small Mon Mothma project very slowly in the works, would like to give that the focus it deserves.

on something of a mission with a friend to go a little crackfic with some Cassian/Kleya LOL, so maybe that if I can find a fun premise to launch from.

In general: brain still consumed by Andor obviously. Just got the new Rebellion sourcebook so I'll be mining that for inspiration.

[you-cant-spell-subtext-without]

ahdflksjaklf;jsls ok buddies - I hate talking about 14x13: Lebanon, but it has relevancy in the “John Winchester is a villain and cannot and should not be redeemed” discourse as well as being a crucial piece of finale denialist lore so I Have Been Thinking About It Too Much.

As you may recall, the Occult Object of the Week - the pearl - in Lebanon is supposed to grant Dean’s “heart’s desire.” Dean and Sam are Very Sure this means expelling Michael (the Dean Winchester Must Be Saved installment of season 14) (honestly that premise always seemed a little slim to me, I was hoping for Dean’s heart’s desire to be Cas, on Dean’s car, naked, covered in bees). 

Instead they summon Dad of the Year, which at first feels infuriating.  However after discussion with my earworms, I Have Fixed It (and also turned it into a grenade to launch at 15x20.)

Finale denialists and John Winchester derogatorians ASSEMBLE! and let’s discuss after the cut.

I’ve written in depth about Dean’s struggles with the cycle of abuse, so I won’t go too far into it here, but if you want to revisit any of that meta this is a good place to begin.  This post hinges on the same theory - that Dean’s true freedom is established in his release from that cycle - that is the logical outcome of any hero’s journey for him, and where he would finally be able to accept happiness and love.  This logically would also make release from the cycle of abuse and the feelings of self-hatred Dean struggles with his “heart’s desire” for purposes of the pearl.  When it comes to emotions, we also know Dean doesn’t deal with them well.  He punches things instead.  So odds are, Dean hasn’t really worked through these feelings.  

Dean also mentions when John returns that “it was what [Dean] wanted since he was 4″ - when they lost Mary, right before John became obsessed with revenge.  Season 12 Mary canonically remembers John as a “good dad,” so we can draw a line from that to the abuse really starting shortly after her death.  This is also corroborated by Dean himself:

DEAN: You know when you died, it changed Dad. 

(A visual of the John Mary remembers) (just my excuse to put pictures of Matt Cohen on your dash) (I shouldn’t need an excuse) (Matt Cohen hi you are on Tumblr please don’t read any of this I’m embarrassed).

So what Dean has is pre-Mary’s-death John and post-Mary’s-death John, post-Mary’s-death John being the one whose abuse created Dean’s own damaged persona.  Dean thinks the fix is to stop things on the front end (he is ignoring any process-centered solution, he just wants it to never have happened, he is in denial that he has to work through this and just wants it to be erased, etc etc etc).  

***also keep in mind that going back in time to change things on the front end as a “fix it” is a storyline SPN repeats regularly***

***and it always ends up being impossible to do*** 

Ok so for Dean, his damage/anger/brutal nature/darkness is always linked to John, and this cycle “began” for Dean once their family was torn apart by Mary’s death.  So the fix is his “blood family” together.  That’s his heart’s desire in Lebanon because Dean hasn’t really worked through any of his emotions, and it’s his very Dean way of fixing it - “oh if my family gets put back together I will be put back together too.”

***speaking of quick fixes, I’d like to note that any case in SPN that is referred to as a “milk run”  inevitably becomes complicated and messy***

***continuing the thematics of there’s no such thing as a quick fix***

This is no different.  Stopping the cycle by simply erasing it from the narrative erases anything else that happened along the way during the journey.  It erases this Mary (who they know as a person by this point and not just the mom on a pedestal) 

and (most importantly) it erases this Cas (the episode specifically replaces Cas with one who Doesn’t Know Dean).

We Emphasize This Of Course In The Dialogue In Case You Missed It

DEAN Cas, you know us. ALTERNATE CAS I don’t know you.

***Simply erasing the origin of Dean’s trauma erases all of Dean’s growth.  It erases this family that Dean is so proud to tell John he has now. It erases everything he has already overcome despite how hard it was to achieve it.

So, John goes back.  In that way, the pearl does give Dean his heart’s desire - his realization that this is not about a quick fix, it is about the journey to the good, and all you gain and become along the way (kind of similar to “Happiness isn't in the having. It's in just being. It's in just saying it" eh?).  it’s the process.  It’s every moment along the way.  It’s the people who help him get there.

And then he starts the healing journey by taking control of his own life, by owning his feelings instead of displacing the blame, by recognizing he is NOT guided solely by the actions of his father and this cycle:

DEAN

And for the longest time, I blamed Dad. I mean, hell, I blamed Mom, too, you know? I was angry. But say we could send Dad back knowing everything. Why stop there? Why not send him even further back and let some other poor sons of bitches save the world? But here’s the problem. Who does that make us? Would we be better off? Well, maybe. But I gotta be honest – I don’t know who that Dean Winchester is.

And the episode fucking ends with Cas, the Cas Who Knows Them coming into the bunker and asking them what happened, calling each of them by name just to emphasize again That He Knows Them, because Cas knowing Dean, and Cas being Dean’s family is the cornerstone of what Dean’s heart desires.

[CAS walks in from the door at the top of the stairs. SAM, DEAN and MARY walk out from the library to see him.]

CAS Mary, Sam, Dean. What happened?

So yeah, it took 14 damn seasons but Lebanon is where Dean realizes he can be defined by more than the acts of his father.  (That’s why it’s so terrifying for Dean when Chuck snatches back any control he gained in Season 15.  Because for Dean, Chuck is just John Winchester Controls My Every Action all over again, except he’s God which makes it even worse.) 

That’s also why the final blow to Chuck is not Dean killing him. 

The last stage in the journey that begins here with Dean’s “I’m good with who I am” - [I’m still bad and dark and damaged but I’m good with it]

is Dean’s “that’s not who I am.” [the most caring man on Earth; the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know]

Thats equally why 15x18 is so brilliant, 15x19 is at least acceptable, and 15x20 simply does. not. work.

Dean Winchester’s perfect heaven cannot possibly center on the blood family.  It does not have John Winchester and Mary, husband and wife, who took away his own free will.  It is THIS FAMILY.  The found family.  Cas and Jack and Sam and the Mary that was resurrected.  Dean’s entire character arc supports this journey, and to have it culminate in something that is so established in the season prior to this one as something Dean knows he no longer wants is maddening.

I’m even more mad now because I just remembered that the most prominent picture above Dying Sam’s bed was the blood family portrait from this episode; almost like they wanted us to remember this particular stupid lesson.  This show is so stupid when it could have been so so so very good.

***I want to say thanks again to all of you who read my spiraling if you got this far.  It’s therapeutic for me to do it, but it makes it all the better that people actually read it.  Seeing you in my notes MAKES my entire day****

[irons-enough]

June 1881 (Teenage Arthur Morgan)

A short little ficlet inspired by this amazing photo edit by @foundynnel which made me obsessed with the idea of cocky bastard teenage Arthur. Maybe I’ll expand on this one day (Red Dead YA novel, anyone?) but it was fun to write!

Rating: G Tags: Language, teeny bit of blood

Wyoming Territory - June 1881 

Arthur Morgan spat blood into the dirt. His eyes were bright with adrenaline and, just beneath the surface, an unbridled fury. His split lip curled into an arrogant smile as he raised his fists again. "That all you got?" 

His opponent cycled between shock and rage that Arthur had not gone down in one hit. but it was the look in his eyes--the insufferable, cocky stare of a seventeen-year-old drifter with a six-shooter and a foul attitude--that made him swing wide to slam his fist into the little son of a bitch's face. Arthur was ready; waiting, in fact. He raised his arm to bar the swing and with his other hand punched upward into the man's jaw. He heard the crack of bone at the same time the break reverberated through his fist, and the man fell as suddenly and heavily as he had fallen asleep, groaning helplessly as he cradled his broken jaw. 

Arthur shook out his hand, swiped the blood from his lower lip. He smirked in satisfaction at the stunned silence of the onlookers. He made a show of dusting off his shirt and casually picking up his hat from where it lay in the road. “Gentlemen,” he said in farewell, with a polite nod to the assembled crowd.

________________________________________

"Arthur. What the fuck?" 

Arthur smirked at Dutch's greeting as he arrived at their campsite, tried and failed to look innocent. "Well, hey to you, too." 

"You wanna explain why the entire goddamn town is talkin' about some cocky hotshot kid layin' out the local stable hand?" 

"Really? They are?" Arthur exclaimed, his eyes brightening. Dutch whacked him upside the head. "Ow!" 

"Tell me, son, when Hosea and I say 'Don't do anything stupid', what exactly is it that you hear?" Dutch demanded. 

Arthur rubbed the back of his head. "Not much, I guess." 

"Oh, that's evident." Dutch's dark eyes narrowed at Arthur's defiant expression. "You listenin’' to me?" 

"Sure, just not your goddamn sarcasm," Arthur spat. 

"You got some attitude, you--" He bit back the curse that was just shy of forming on his lips. "Susan!" he yelled. "Deal with him. I'm not his goddamn father; not my job to deal with his bullshit." 

"Oh, and so now it’s mine?!" Susan's voice fell like a hatchet even from a distance. Arthur leaned his head on his fist to hide his grin as Susan and Dutch argued over whose problem he was this time. 

Hosea knocked his fist into Arthur’s shoulder, beckoning. “Come on, Arthur.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed as he hauled himself to his feet, as though it was a major inconvenience. He followed Hosea over to the front of the abandoned cabin at their campsite, a decrepit old building with a half-collapsed roof. Hosea struck a match against his boot heel and lit a cigarette as he leaned against the side of the cottage.

“Can I get one?” said Arthur.

“No.”

“C’mon, Hosea...” “Shut up. Get over here.”

Arthur slumped against the wall beside Hosea. He took his pistol from its holster and toyed with it: spinning it around his fingers as he drew, looking down the sights as he pointed it at the dirt. Hosea snatched it from him deftly. “What the hell?” Arthur exclaimed.

“Arthur, you wanna live to see twenty?” said Hosea.

“Who cares?” Arthur’s head lolled so that his hat hid his eyes.

“I care. And you should care.” Hosea’s voice was even now, but still severe. “You’re still a goddamn kid, you don’t know anything yet. Suffice it to say if you’re stupid enough to get yourself killed before twenty, you’re better off dead. And that’s not you, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” Arthur mumbled.

“Me and Dutch have things in the works to get us a score. And if you’re gonna be a goddamn idiot and draw attention to yourself, that’ll be the last time you’re involved in anything we do.”

“It weren’t even so bad,” Arthur complained. “How’m I supposed to know you got plans when you never tell me a goddamn thing? Why be a goddamn criminal if you can’t do what you want? Ain’t no point.”

“The point is to live through it, Arthur. Money’s no good to you if you’re dead. Now when we need to lie low, keep our noses clean, it’s because we got something big in the works, and we can’t risk the plans while we’re still layin’ tracks. You know that. You’re a hell of a lot of things son, but a complete fool ain’t one of ‘em.” Hosea dropped his cigarette and ground it out into the dirt. “Not one of us acts alone, boy. Part of runnin’ together means sacrificing your own selfish desires for the good of the group.”

“I know that,” Arthur grumbled.

“Well, it’s high time you acted like it.” Hosea flipped Arthur’s pistol out of his hand with a flourish, catching it by the barrel. He held out the grip toward Arthur. “Stay here a while,” he said. “Somethin’ tells me I need to talk down Dutch and Susan.”

“What the hell am I supposed to do?”

Hosea was already walking away. “I don’t quite care, son. Sit here and do nothing. Be still for once in your life.”

Arthur scowled and sighed, kicked up dust with his boot. For all the stealing and shooting Dutch and Hosea wanted him to do, they sure knew how to treat him like a goddamn idiot sometimes. Maybe the day would come when he could boss them around.

He looked in the direction of the setting sun, toward California where they had come from. There was always new country to explore, new people to rob, more money to be made, more sunsets to see. Every time Arthur leveled his gun at a man and made him act, or freeze, or die--it started a whole new adventure. Some were good. Some were great. Others he wished he could forget, and there were still more that had left him with scars and foul memories that endured well beyond what they should. For the past five years, Arthur Morgan had lived for sunsets like this one, and he couldn’t wait for a lifetime more.

[eideticmemory]

EVER SINCE NEW YORK II | MATTHEW GRAY GUBLER

Description: Description: I was messaged saying: “If you don’t write a young Matthew enemies to lovers fic featuring an obsession with sucking on boobs then what’s the point 😔.” So, here it is, folks! The ultimate College!Matthew fic.

PART 2! Read Part 1 here.

Soundtrack:

Maps - Maroon 5.

Me & Ur Ghost - Blackbear.

Keep You Close - Frenship.

Word Count: 3,341.

Rating: M.

Warning/Includes: Sexual intercourse, substance use, a bit of angst.

Fall, Sophomore Year.

Tisch School of the Arts,

New York University.

New York City. 

“Okay, you know what?” You scoffed, throwing your hands up in surrender. “I give up. I don’t give a fuck anymore.”

Claire laughed from behind you, “You alright over there?”

“No,” you grumbled. You pressed down on the black frame, using all your might to make the command strip stick to the wall. Yet, when you stepped back, it would pop off of the surface, and your ballet poster was lopsided. It’d been a vicious cycle for 10 minutes. “This goddamn command strip won’t stick. What the fuck?” 

“Okay, grumpy, step away from the poster,” Claire ordered, grabbing onto your shoulders and escorting you to the center of the room. “The room looks great, [y/n], why are you so stressed?” 

“I am not stressed. I am frustrated, and those damn command strips aren’t cheap. I’m pissed.” 

“Okay, staples queen, tell you what,” she sighed. “I will go buy you a pack of command strips and personally mount the poster myself, okay?” 

You looked up at Claire, giving her a soft smile. “Did I win the roommate lottery or what?”

“Yeah, but better not say stuff like that too much. People are gonna start thinking we’re a different type of roommates.”

You laughed, and shook your head at her. 

“[y/n], what’s up?” Claire asked. “You’ve been moody as fuck ever since we moved back in for the semester. Classes haven’t even started yet and you’re moping around. What’s going on?”

Well, Claire, you thought. I’m glad you asked. I’m glad you brought it up, because I’ve been dying to talk about it for a while. You see, I fucked my mortal enemy, and it was so good that I did it a second time. And no, I’m not talking about my cinematography professor, I’m talking about Matthew. Gubler. I fucked Matthew Gubler. Yes, I know. Hell has frozen over. Because I hated him. I hate him. I think he’s awful. Especially since he thinks it’s okay to fuck someone, ignore their existence, fuck them again, ignore their existence, and then leave them with a vague ass note? 505. 505! I’ve looked up every possible meaning of 505 that there is. The song, urban dictionary, numerology. And I can’t figure the shit out. And it doesn’t help that Matthew didn’t say a word to me over summer break. I’m just lost and confused and I know you would understand and you would know what to do. 

But it’s Matthew. 

And I can’t tell anyone. Especially you. 

“Last semester was a royal disaster,” you sighed. “I just don’t wanna overwhelm myself again. Y’know with class, and shows, and parties. I wanna do right this semester, but it’s a little stressful. So, I’m a little stressed.” 

Claire looked at you for a long time, eyebrows lowered and her eyes scanning your face. She had a gut feeling that you were lying, but didn’t wanna be a bitch. So she bit her tongue. 

“Let’s go get something to eat,” she smiled. 

Classes started that following Monday. Your first lecture was at 10 o’clock. And you woke up at 10:15. Having showered the night before, you brushed your teeth, put on your outfit and fixed your hair all in ten minutes and hiked it across campus in 4 minutes. You rushed up to the classroom door, and entered the lecture very calmly. People were scattered about in the auditorium, some towards the sides, a lot front and center. But only one person sitting in the very back row.

Matthew. 

Too occupied with explaining yourself to your professor, you didn’t notice Matthew until a few minutes after entering. You refused to make eye contact with him, nervously staring at your feet as you walked over to him. And took a seat at his side. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.” 

Those were the only words spoken for an hour and fifteen minutes. However, within 10 minutes of seeing you again, Matthew began to rub your thigh. His fingers grazed the top of your leg, slowly but surely making their way to your inner thigh. You held your breath, staring up at the professor the whole time and pretending to take notes. 

When Matthew’s fingers pressed against your clit, you almost gasped. But you kept your mouth shut, stifling the sound. He smirked to himself, only glancing at you when you were too shaken up to notice. You propped up the screen of your laptop, hiding your face behind it so you could let out quiet moans. You were so sensitive, and very glad that you wore a skirt to class. 

Matthew’s fingers slid your panties to the side and made skin to skin contact with your clit, applying pressure as he rubbed you. You exhaled for a long time, swear words wanting to fly out of your mouth instead. The professor’s words drowned out a long time ago, and at this point you didn’t care. You just needed to come. 

Matthew remembered the way you liked to be touched, he had to. Because he was able to bring you to the edge so quickly, it was insane. You clenched your thighs around his wrist to signal your nearing release, and he grinned. 

You rested your head on the keyboard of your laptop, hiding from everyone as you came. Your jaw dropped, and you had to stop yourself from groaning too loudly. Matthew removed his hand from under your skirt. He sucked on the tips of his fingers, just to get the taste of you on his tongue. Then, with only 2 minutes left in class, he packed up his stuff and walked out.

You should’ve dropped the class. At the very least, sat somewhere else. But you didn’t. You stayed in that course. With Matthew. In the back row. And wore skirts every other day for a month. Some days he would repeat the action, and some days he wouldn’t. It was like he could tell how desperate you were each time. And if you were really desperate, he simply didn’t touch you. It sucked, but it kept you on your toes. 

He missed class one day, and to cope, you had a dream about him that night. You imagined him using his mouth on you, in an empty lecture hall, bending you over the desk, making you come. When you woke up, you were in a cold sweat. You couldn’t believe you were having thoughts like this about Matthew Gubler. But you were. 

You hopped out of bed, put on your slippers, and left the room to go to the vending machines. Holding a soda and some candy, you walked back to your dorm room silently. Alerted by the sound of footsteps, you turned your head down the hall to see Claire walking out of someone’s room. She noticed you and rushed up to you with a big smile. 

“Hey!” She beamed. “What are you doing up?”

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t sleep. Where you been?”

She sighed happily, “I’ve been doing adult things, [y/n], I cannot lie.” She wrapped her arm around your shoulder as you both walked to your room. “I’m in love, kid. It’s crazy.”

“You’re in love? With who?”

“Ah, that will soon be revealed, my dear [y/n].” 

That weekend, you two invited everyone to come hang out at your dorm. Someone was able to swipe some liquor, and it was a party. A handful of people, getting a little tipsy, music in the background. Claire insisted Matthew be invited, but you weren’t expecting him to show up. But of course, he did. Because he’s a nuisance. 

He laid down on Claire’s bed and she sat beside him, the two of them quickly joining the conversation at hand. You tried not to look like a kicked puppy, tried not to pout, to sulk, to watch. But inch by inch, second by second, Claire moved closer to Matthew, until by the end of the night, her head was on his chest. 

That Monday, you sat in the front of the class. 

And every class after that for the next month. 

Missing your daily release, you became cranky and nasty and moody. You didn’t mean to, but that’s how it happened. To help you get over the nagging feeling, you went out one Saturday night. A group of friends dragged you along to a dorm party in the next building over. You used it as an excuse to dress up, ignore your homework and get some fresh air. In a tight purple dress, you walked into the booming dorm. It was packed, smelled like booze and filled with heat. 

A cup of vodka in your hand, it wasn’t until about two hours in that you realized you didn’t want to party. You sat on the couch the whole time, fiddling with your hands and the hem of your dress. You’d drank an entire solo cup of alcohol by then, and you were starting to get tired. Your friends had gotten lost a long time ago, and you knew it was fruitless to look for them. So, you picked yourself up and started to head for the exit. 

“[y/n]!” 

You turned around to see a guy walking towards you. Jonathan. “Hey, John, what the hell is going on?” You asked, noticing him supporting another guy on his shoulder. His friend was a drunken, sloppy mess, and could barely stand.

“Our boy Steve here had a little too much to drink,” John replied. “I’m taking him back to his room. You going back to your place?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I am.”

“Okay, do you mind helping me with him? Please? I’ll give you a dollar.”

You laughed, shook your head and put your arm around Steve’s waist. “Ooh, a dollar! Sounds exciting.” 

It was cold, and you shivered on the way back to your dorm building. Steve only lived down the hall from you, so helping wasn’t too far out of the way for you. John used Steve’s key to let the three of you into Steve’s suite, guiding both of you to Steve’s room. 

You both worked together to lay Steve down on his mattress. You covered him with his blanket. 

“You’re a lifesaver,” John told you. “We both are actually.”

“Maybe we should start a business. We escort drunk people home for a small fee of $100.”

He laughed, “I’m in as long as you dress like that every time.”

You blushed, and ducked your head down to hide it. 

“What’s going on in here?” A voice called to you two. 

You looked up at the threshold to see Matthew standing there, looking sleepy, disheveled, shirtless, and beautiful. 

“Hey, Gube,” John greeted. “[y/n] and I were just dropping Steve off. Kid couldn’t  hold his liquor.” 

Matthew scoffed, “You could’ve left him there. Let him get dicks drawn on his face.”

“Well, aren’t you full of love?” John laughed. “No, seriously, I’ve gotta text Lindsey and let her know I’m staying in for tonight.” He padded at his pocket, followed by a loud groan, “Fuck, I left my phone at the party. Fuck me.” 

“That’s a higher power trying to tell you that you need to stay out longer,” Matthew said. 

John smirked at him, “You’re right. Wonderful insight, Gubler.”

John walked out of the door, heading for the exit, and you followed him, avoiding eye contact with Matthew. As the two of you approached the front door, you froze. John exited the suite, not noticing that he was leaving you behind. And you would’ve moved if you had the power. 

Hanging on the door of the suite was the room number: 505.

Your breath caught in your throat. 505. The room number. The room number of the suite you saw Claire leaving that day. 505.

“What took you so long?” Matthew asked, standing behind you. 

You released your breath, goosebumps crawling on your skin as you felt him get closer to you. Your heart raced, your body trembled. You had a physical response to being near this boy. It was intense. 

“I’m not doing this, Matthew,” you whispered. 

“Doing what? We’re just talking.”

You turned around to face him, suddenly very angry, “No! You know what I’m talking about! You know what I’m talking about! And it’s gone on for long enough, Matthew. I’m out!” You kept your voice quiet, but still aggressive. You turned to exit the dorm, but he grabbed onto your waist and pulled you into him. 

“Listen, Princess Peach,” he said.

“Fuck you—“

“Listen. I don’t know what your deal is, but I do know that I miss you—“

“You’re full of shit. You just wanna fuck.”

“That’s what I said. I miss you. I mean, for such a short person, your pussy packs a punch.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“Face it,” he murmured. “You may hate me, but your pussy doesn’t.”

Your body melted into his at the sound of his voice. The feeling of his hands running down your body, landing on your thigh. “Just admit it. Or tell me to stop.” His fingers trailed under your dress, the tips grazing you through your panties. Your head rolled back at the gentle touch and he took that as an invitation to kiss your neck. 

“Cmon, shortcake, tell me to stop,” he mumbled. “Tell me to stop.” 

You responded by wrapping your hands around his throat, using all your strength to push him out the living room couch. He chuckled under his breath, stumbling back onto the cushion and pulling you into his lap. 

“Oh, you gonna choke me?” He asked, his voice coming out strained. “Okay, princess, you hate me so much? You can’t stand me?” He pushed his pants down to reveal his erection. “Fuck me like it then.” 

You crashed your lips onto his and pushed him back onto the couch, reaching down to grab his cock. You pulled your panties to the side and teased him against your core, moaning as his tip rubbed against your clit. You sank down onto his dick, feet pressed into the couch, hands holding his neck. 

He stared up at you as you fucked him — fast and careless. Swear words fell off of his lips uncontrollably, his hands pawing at your breast. Your boobs fit perfectly in his palm and he was obsessed. He had to bite down on his bottom lip to stay quiet, grunting into his mouth. 

“F-fuck,” he panted. “Wait, wait.” 

You leaned in and kissed him roughly, grinding your hips against his. You made sure to stay silent, giving no indication that you were experiencing so much pleasure. 

“H-hey — shit, fuck,” he groaned. “Wait.”

Matthew placed his hands on your ass, his eyes closed tight, his body tensing up as you rode him into the wall. “Oh, fuck!” He exclaimed, and lifted you off of his cock. Quickly, just in time for him to release all over his stomach. He panted, he quivered, he mumbled soft, dirty words. Whispered something about you. 

As pretty a sight as it was, you refused to sit there and stare. So, you stood up, pulled the hem of your dress down. And this time, you left. Not a word said. Nothing. 

Matthew followed you on instagram that night. You didn’t accept the request for a week, and when you did, you didn’t follow him back. He tried to add you on snapchat, but you declined it. You continued to sit far away from him in class, giving him no access. He brought you a drink at a party once and you asked for water instead. When he returned with the water, you had already left. 

He had met his match. You dominated him, successfully, fearlessly, and without even trying. He wanted more. But you liked to watch him so squirm, so you didn’t give in. 

Christmas break rolled around, and instead of focusing on the actual holiday, you and your friends planned your first spring break vacation. A group of you would head to South Beach for the week, and stay at a relative’s beach house. 

You sat on your bed, trying to map out the cost of the trip. “So it’s me, you, the four of them...Claire, are you listening to me?”

“Is this a good Christmas gift for Matthew?” 

You turned your head to her quickly, “Huh?” 

“This,” she held up the book - The Magic Encyclopedia. “You think Matthew will like it?”

“Claire,” you sighed. “What are you doing?” 

“What do you mean?”

“What are you doing simping over this boy? Buying him gifts? This isn’t you, Claire.”

“Leave me alone, [y/n], okay? We’re just friends. And he told me he bought me a gift so I got him one. Jeez, do you have to hate him so much?” She pouted, dropping the book into a gift bag. 

“Um, actually, yeah I do,” you nodded. “He’s a dick.”

A knock rang at the door, and as Claire hopped up, she pointed her finger at you, “That’s him. Do not pick a fight.”

You rolled your eyes and went back to planning. Matthew stepped into the room, carrying a bag in one hand. He used his other hand to cup Claire’s face and give her a small kiss on the cheek. “Santa Claus is here!” He exclaimed. 

“Gimme, gimme, gimme!” Claire pleaded, reaching for the gift bag. 

“Wow, Claire, I’m hurt. You’re so materialistic.” He chuckled. 

“Oh, please, Gube,” she scoffed. “Give me my gift.”

“Okay,” he reached into the bag and pulled out a small box, wrapped into festive paper. “I got this for you, Claire,” he handed her the box. “And I even got something for your roommate here.”

You picked your head up, face ridden with confusion. Matthew licked his lips as he held the gift out to you, “I saw it and I couldn’t help myself. Merry Christmas, short stack.” 

“Aw, Gube!” Claire squealed. Matthew let her tuck herself under his arm and hug him. “You’re so sweet.”

You stared at the tiny box in your hands, feeling it’s weight. “Thanks...” you whispered.

“Here, open what I got you,” Claired ordered Matthew, stepping over to her bed and grabbing the gift bag. She handed it to him with a wide smile, and giggled as he reached inside. 

“Wow!” He cheered, holding the book in his hand. “Holy shit, Claire. This is incredible, thank you!”

“I knew how much you wanted that book so I remembered to get it,” she said. “So, I hope your gift for me is as impressive.”

“It is.”

As the two of them spoke, you opened up your own gift, quietly, hiding it behind your pillow. Claire unwrapped Matthew’s gift, and squealed. “Shut up! Where did you find this film?”

“Amazon!” he replied. “That fancy camera of yours only takes a certain type of film so I wanted you to be stocked.”

You pulled the item out of the box, focused on figuring out what it was. It was cold, metallic, and shone under the light as it was revealed. 

“Oh, Gube!” Claire pulled him into a hug. “This is incredible!”

It was an antique. A silver polished miniature  ballerina, perched on a pedestal. There was a knob on the side, and when turned, the ballerina twirled. It was precious. 

You looked over at Matthew and Claire, watching as they broke out of their hug and looked at each other. “I expect a bunch of pictures when I get back,” he told her, backing out of the room. 

“And I expect a professional magician,” she winked. Yuck. Claire turned her head to you after Matthew left, grinning, “What’d he get you?” 

You quickly pushed the ballerina back in the box, shaking your head. “Socks. Mismatched socks. Very funny.” You replied. 

She giggled, “But hey, a gift! That’s growth!”

“Yeah, whatever,” you grumbled. 

“Matthew’s great,” She said. “You’ll get to know him better soon, since he’s coming to the beach with us.”

“He’s what?”

[PART 3.]

[kob131]

So I saw MangaKamen's recent video on RWBY and two things spoke out to me personally; 1) Mangakamen is right about RWBY in the fact that they royally fucked over the situation in Atlas and 2) Robyn has no fucking right comparing her sembalance to Qrow's.

So we’re doing this again huh?

‘I am expressing my opinions and that may piss off someone of you- SO NO COMPLAINING!’

... Fun fact, in his video going after Cosmonaut Variety Hour’s video on Jojo, he directly criticizes him for apparently ‘trying to deflect criticism’ by labelling the video a rant. So know that when I saw that he’s just trying to deflect any backlash he gets here and he inevitably gets pissy about it.

Because this man cannot be consistent to save his life.

“I’m not unreasonable guys!”

No, you just consume and vomit up the points of people who are so deeply biased that they can’t be described as anything BUT unreasonable. 

And I know this, because I remember watching his Volume 7 video and noticing he made a comparison between Jacques and Trump. Now as I’ve stated and shown- this doesn’t make sense. Many of Jacques’ policies and actions in the plot are counter indicative of the common liberal consensus of Trump (for example, Jacques is shown to mostly do this for his business while Trump acting for his business is the ONE thing he was never accused of). This is also not like Kamen’s style at all- he rarely if ever addresses politics in media.

 .. And he didn’t. Because that point wasn’t his. I found out FMF said the exact same thing beforehand and Kamen is on record as watching his videos and following his Twitter. This combined with his blind acceptance of FloofArtist, someone who is even more biased than FMF due to personal feelings- I’m certain that a lot of what he says is just repeated from other people.

In all honesty, I have more respect for FMF. Because he at least isn’t as big a hypocrite nor is he copying other’s opinions even though it’s so far against his style it doesn’t make sense.

Okay so in his first section, he bitches about Cinder’s backstory.

First is that this should have happened in Volumes 4 and 5 because those had a focus on Cinder. Problem, Cinder has a focus in Volume 8 as well as Volume 7 and 6- She’s continually had focus ever since Volume 2. She wasn’t given any special treatment in Volumes 4 and 5, in fact she plays a similar role there as well. ... Except with Atlas, this place is were her abuse took place and her character arc here is learning from her mistakes, which are rooted in her abuse. It also shows how and why Salem got her to be loyal- by offering her a tiny bit of approval and support which she lacked. The same thing she did to Emerald, who is defecting in this Volume. It also gives the audience satisfaction when she does learn from her mistakes and succeeds. So for all he questions about why it is here- He doesn’t even consider a very blatant answer.

He also tries to say that we’ve had other villain backstories before Cinder’s so that...makes hers worse? ...Um, not only does this not pertain to the purpose of Cinder’s backstory, three of his four examples (Tyrian, Watts and Hazel?) are TOLD to us. Cinder, like Salem, is SHOWN to us. This is important since Kamen has bitched about RWBY not doing show don’t tell before so he should be praising this.

His third point is about how Cinder was treated like a slave and yet she feels nothing for the Fanaus, therefore her development from her backstory doesn’t make sense...which misunderstands how people operate so much I’m genuinely confused. Like...people don’t relate to others in similar situations all the time because their experiences scar them to the point of not empathizing with others in similar situations. Hell, that’s the basis of the cycle of abuse. Having similar experiences doesn’t mean Cinder would care, especially since she’s so focused on not repeating that life she ignores so much around her.

Next is-Oh fucking god, it’s the goddamn ‘RHODES AND ABUSE!’ point. Once again, look at the scenes were Cinder is abused. And I mean ‘unambiguous’ abuse. Her sisters tracking mud in, her mother having her work and glaring at her for breaking something is not abuse. I’m talking about the underfeeding and the shock collar. It’s all done AWAY from the public. AKA Away from RHODES. Fuck, take out every scene in which Cinder is abused and tell me if you could tell she was abused and not...I dunno...just a teen who doesn’t like her upbringing. Her collar looks like a normal collar for fuck’s sake!

‘But- Cinder could have mentioned it to him off-screen!’

And that would normally be a good point to make as it is logical given how close they are implied to be. ... But guess what Kamen says?

“If it’s not shown in the show, it doesn’t count.”

Issue is- that cuts both ways. Just as outside info can’t be used to justify the show, the lack of it can’t be interpreted against it. So Kamen fucked the only strong point he could have had.

Then we have him...bitching about show don’t tell with CInder’s song. ... While he completely ignores the showing of Cinder’s abuse being in private. Very blatantly in private.

... I said twelve times, I’ll say it a thirteenth: this is why things in RWBY are so blunt. If it isn’t just a step before the writers walking on screen and explaining the show- People go and misinterpret everything to a point well beyond my suspension of disbelief. This is especially true with Kamen since he bitched at Cvit for not considering what he called ‘basic’ details about Persona 5. So he above anyone else lacks an excuse.

This gets proven in the next part where he says that the purpose of the backstory is to show that Cinder isn’t in power...when in the same episode, we had a scene were Cinder’s Grimm thrashes about with cuts to her backstory where her collar shocked her as Salem gave her very blatant words of manipulative support. You cannot get anymore blatant and blunt than that aside from doing EXACTLY as I said and Kamen STILL misinterprets it. 

He bitches about Cinder retreading the same ground and she sucks...but then consider everything I’ve showcased so far. With all this wildly off shit that he’s criticized in others- can you honestly say you think it’s the show’s fault? Or s it his and he’s not owning up to it?

Considering how he doesn’t make the obvious connection of ‘Cinder lacked power in her developmental years’ to ‘Cinder has an unnatural obsession with that thing she lacked in her developmental years’-

I can safely say it’s the latter.

And that’s it for now. I’ll revisit this later considering how tired I am. But to wrap things up-

Look at the length of this post. Look at all the problems I pointed out. Look at the hypocrisy and inexcusable stupidity.

Then consider that this is only 9 minutes...into a 51 minute video.

...Do you really think Kamen’s points are that good? Or even acceptable?

[operationcavill]

Untangled - Part 2

“Would ya look who’s here,” Y/N’s heart drops and she can’t bring herself to turn around. There’s no way he’s here for a second time. “He’s wearing a white henley,” her sister leaves with hopes that her little sister gets some juicy gossip and most importantly, breaks out of her shell. A white henley was her weakness on any man but Henry, she was done for.

Inspired by: Butterflies // Kacey Musgraves

Y/N - Your name

S/N - Sisters name

B/I/L - Brother-in-Law

B/N - Brothers Name

It’s been exactly one week since Henry met that funny girl at the bar. Y/N. Even her name sounded sweet. He couldn’t help but think about her legs, and how nice her ass looked, but he also couldn’t knock the thought of how shy she was and how cute her blushing mannerisms were; her fingers fiddling with the neck of the beer bottle or thumbing at the necklace she wore. Y/N just radiated something, and it was too enticing to him. Those fingers and the way her nails would feel digging into his scalp when he,”Hey, Henry,” a PA snaps him out of his daydream, “it looks like rain isn’t letting up so they’re halting until it passes. See ya tomorrow.” He nods and sends a text to his brother who is currently keeping Kal company while he’s working overseas.

H: Did Kal get a walk in today?

B/N: Took him and the kids out twice. Checking in early today. Got plans this evening?

H: I haven’t decided but probably just going out to dinner with some work mates again.

B/N: Liar.

H: What?

B/N: You’re gonna go back to that bar.

H: Hey, it was a nice bar.

B/N: It was a nice girl.

H: I can’t forget a cute face.

B/N: Alright lol be careful out there

Henry slides his phone in his pocket and heads to his car. The grey clouds bring him back to that evening on the patio once again. He was so hung up, just after a couple of hours. What’s gotten into him? His drive back to the hotel was quiet. He was trying his best to concentrate on the car, just the care and nothing else. But maybe she’d let his hand rest on her thigh while he drives. Would she hold his hand on the way back his room?

He exchanges nods with the hotel staff he passes on the way to the elevator, being him usual polite self even when exhausted.

——————————

Henry watches a small group enter the bar and to his enjoyment, she walks in with them. He excuses himself to the restroom, but his fellow crew mates know better, he’s going after her. He rolls his eyes at their snickers but lets out his own chuckle.

“Would ya look who’s here,” Y/N’s heart drops and she can’t bring herself to turn around. There’s no way he’s here for a second time. “He’s wearing a white henley,” her sister leaves with hopes that her little sister gets some juicy gossip and most importantly, breaks out of her shell. A white henley was her weakness on any man but Henry, she was done for.

“Hey there,” He looked even better than before. The Shirt.

“Hello.” She hopes he can’t hear her heart pound in her chest, “Becoming a regular, are we?”

“What can I say? I like a good cocktail,”

“Benny does know how to make on hell of a drink.” She winks at the bartender and they share a laugh.

The bartender blows her a kiss, “Anything for you, Tequila Princess,”

He raises his eyebrow and smirks, “Tequila Princess? What is it about you and tequila?” He becomes confused as Benny scoots two shot glasses in her direction.

Y/N sighs as she turns toward Henry, “Thanks, Benny,”

He glances at the small glasses, “I’m actually not a tequila guy.”

She laughs, “These are both mine.”

“Oh,” He’s adorably wide-eyed, “is this that trick your sister mentioned?”

“Yes,” Y/N holds the two glasses in front of her face, “cheers, Henry.” After placing both shot glasses in her mouth, she rest her hands on her thighs, throws her head back and gargles the liquid before swallowing. She took the drink with absolutely no grimace or chaser, no salt or limes. Her face is completely still as if it were water. “and that is the trick. It’s not exactly mind-blowing and it’s a gross sound.”

“What the hell,” He backtracks in case he offended her “I mean, how are you not positively sick right now?”

“I can’t taste it.” He throws her a look, “It doesn’t burn or anything. So, in school I told a few friends that I couldn’t taste tequila. They dared me to gargle it to prove it, and being young and stupid, I did. That’s where the Tequila Princess came from.”

“Am I entitled to use that nickname?” He’s so handsome.

“Only if you want me to walk away right this second.”

He surrenders his hands in the air, “I shall never call you Tequila Princess ever again.”

“Good,” He offers her a beer but asks for a water instead, “thank you.” Henry looks visibly tense as the bar gets a bit more crowded. She can sense it in him, he’s getting a nervous. She assumed he would be used to it.

“Hey, look, our bench is free.” He liked that, that they had a bench. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good, tired, but good.” He looks into her eyes and notices that they’re a darker shade than before, “How was your week?”

She smiles sweetly, “It was great, actually. Sorry to hear that you’re tired.”

Y/N is turning Henry into a puddle of mush with her kindness, “S’alright. We actually cut it short today cause of the rain.”

Pointing at her sister and brother-in-law, “Those two almost didn’t want to come this weekend because S/N hates driving in the rain.” He admires how close she must be with S/N, and wonders if they fought like monsters as he did with his brothers when he was young, do sisters do that?

“Do they visit every weekend?”

“No, you just happened to be here when they do visit,” Something splashes and she hears a playful, ‘oops’. She looks up to find a very beautiful woman holding an empty glass and a grin you could compare to the Cheshire cat.

“I’m so sorry. I hope I didn’t ruin your, um, shoes.” She looks at Y/N’s boot with what seems to be distaste.

“It’s ok, we all get a little clumsy.” Y/N is not the type to be confrontational, especially when she knows people are watching, “I’ll just go get some napkins.”

Henry interjects, “Please, let me.” He gets up so quickly that the woman in the conversation can get a word in.

Her eyes follow his behind before turning back, “Listen, I don’t want to come across as a bitch, but there’s so many guys here at this bar that are on your level.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows, “My level?”

She clears her throat, “Yeah, like you’re super adorable but come on.” She’s younger than Y/N. She has those extra long legs and perfect eyelashes, her boobs still up to her neck.

The frustration in her chest grows as she tries not to put little miss spider legs in her place, “All I had to do was smile to get his attention. You had to interrupt us and spill your drink on my shoes.” S/N notices the glare in her sisters face, this doesn’t seem friendly at all.

She makes her way over, trying not let Y/N notice. She hears her hold her own, which isn’t surprising but she knows her anxiety can get the best of her. She almost wants to laugh at how bold this girl is. S/N knows she’s very nosy but this is her little sister, is she supposed to ignore such a situation? She peeks and sees Henry eyeing the two as well. He’s not that far away, he has to be hearing this.

Spider legs rolls her eyes, “He’s just really-“

Henry arrives with the napkins, bending down to wipe off her boot, “Really into the conversation we were having, excuse me.” He stands, turning his back to the woman before sitting down. He’s not sure who is more shocked, this rude woman or S/N as she pretends not to eavesdrop behind a topiary. “You are adorable, by the way,” He wipes her knee, even though there isn’t a trace of liquid on it, “Beautiful, really.”  The secondhand embarrassment is almost too much for Y/N to bear, why is spider legs still stand here? I feels like an hour before she finally marches off.

“That was sweet of you,” Her voice is smaller than he expected but he can see the rose tinge in her face, “thanks.”

He gives her a full smile this time, “I have a feeling things might have gotten a bit out of hand if I didn’t step in.”

She scrunches her nose, “I’m not exactly argumentative, but —”

“Not you, Darling,” Darling, “your sister his trying to hide, just there.”

Y/N watches her sister rush off from behind the plant and act like she didn’t hear a word, “Jesus, S/N.”

He was completely sure of it now. Henry was more than intrigued, he wanted every part of her, “You’re very feisty.”

“Feisty?” She’s never heard that one before.

Henry does his best to put on a feminine impersonation, “All I had to do what smile to get his attention,”

“Shut up,” She flirtatiously swats at his hand, “being shy or, like, reserved, doesn’t make you a doormat.”

Henry could grab her and kiss her right here on this bench, their bench. “Come on. Let’s get back to it,” He nudges her leg with his elbow, “what do you do? Tell me some fun facts.”

"Fun facts?” She clasps her hands, “Ok. Um, well, I’m a painter, sometimes photographer. I live in a tiny apartment with a loud neighbor. I like crime books, like to read when I can. This is not my natural hair color, and I actually don’t care for alcohol that much. People are usually surprised by my tattoos. I also have an obsession with travel sized toiletries. Hows that?”

He’s always gone for the creative type, he should’ve guessed it, “A painter with tattoos who likes to read, and likes tiny shampoo. Got it.”

“Your turn,” She takes a sip of her water, “oh, you can’t say acting because that’s too obvious.”

“Hmm, Ok, I like coffee over tea. I’m really into horror movies and gaming. I enjoy cooking but hardly get the chance. I hate running. I think people who sleep in socks are complete psychopaths. I also like to read. Like visiting home. God, I sound boring,” he laughs, “what else? Ah, I really like mornings. I like working out first time in the morning.”

“You’re not boring at all,” She smiles, “I can’t say that I like working out. I like to cycle, but that’s about it.”

He blurts out, “That explains it.” Oh no. Did he just accidentally talk about her ass?

“What?” To his horror, he has no way to recover from his remark.

He tries to change the topic, “Oh, nothing. You need another water?”

Y/N narrows her eyes, “No, explains what?”

As her sister walks by and hands Y/N a plastic cup full of lemons. She matter of factly states, “He’s talking about your ass, idiot.”

“Ohh,” This time they both blush. Henry hasn’t had cheeks this rosy since he was a boy.

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” He awkwardly bites his lip and tries not to die of embarrassment, “Well, um, anyway, I’m, uh,” Y/N looks up at the sky and jumps as she gets a chill. He watches her tear into a lemon wedge, “Are you just eating lemons?”

“I like sour things,” Her eyes squint, as if she’s expecting something.

He tries to see what she’s seeing, “What are we looking at?”

“It feels like it’s gonna rain again.”

He shakes his head, “Nah, I think we’re ok,” He watches her eat another wedge, “do you two have some sort of lemon ESP?”

“Of course, we’re sisters. I didn’t check the weather but it definitely seems like it’s gonna rain storm.” She scrunches her nose again, he takes note that it must be a habit of hers.

“I hope not, I like sitting out her with you.” Henry listens to her go one about how her and her sister have always just ‘got’ each other, more so than others with their own siblings. She has a best friend, B/F/N, that she has a very similar relationship with. They share stories of their teen years and the dreaded mishaps that are the early twenties. Henry, with beer in his mustache, says, “I should’ve grabbed more napkins,” he wipes his mouth, letting Y/N see the time on his watch. She grabs his wrist to get a better look, but doesn’t state the time. He looks, “Oh, it’s almost 3 hours since I got here,” He checks his phone to see that his fellow co-workers let him know they were headed back to the hotel. It’s just him now.

She opens her mouth to speak but a large rain drop hits her forehead, making her go a little cross eyed, “Well, would ya look at that?”

“I’m sure it’s just a little bit of sprinkling.” Theres a sudden crack of thunder and the sky lights up, welcoming an instant downpour.

He makes sure Y/N gets back inside first, wishing he had a jacket to cover her with, “I told you it was gonna rain.” He absentmindedly tries to cover her head with his left arm, but he was too late. Her hair has fallen victim to the chilly October rain, as has Henry’s clothing.

She can’t help but look at his body, just like the rest of the women in the bar, “You alright?”

“Yeah, just a little cold,” She wants to tell him that his shirt is sticking to him, making him look like a greek god. That god damned henley.

Henry awkwardly shifts, pulling his shirt from his skin, “It is kind of cold, isn’t it?”

S/N arrives and he knows this is his last chance with Y/N, “We’re gonna go back to the hotel before it gets bad out here. Johnny said he’d stay, if you want to stay.” S/N Looks at Henry and back her Y/N, wanting her to take a chance.

“No, I’ll come,” She looks at him, hoping to God her mascara didn’t run too much, “Well, um, I’m going to go before it get worse but it was wonderful seeing you,” She touches his arm only for a few seconds, “maybe I’ll run into you again.”

“Hopefully,” He watches her leave, thanking whoever invented the stationary bike, but already missing the conversation. Her icy fingers gave him goosebumps of his own, but he welcomed it. They were soft and he liked her sparkly nail polish. It reminded him of a hot wheels truck that his nephew gave him. He loved how cozy she looked and, shit, Henry didn’t give her his number. He forgot twice. He thinks to himself, “What the fuck is the matter with me?”

[Note: Please excuse any writing mistakes. Thanks for reading 💕 ]

[roccinan]

I'm risking sounding terribly egoistical by sending a public ask about my own url here but I'm doing it!!!!! I need the super graphic-details

Your ego is my ego, dearest nharidy. There's a reason the doc is named after you hahaha

[ 👉 My Wips ]

OK so the Absolvisti sequel's been sitting in my head since well, the week after I published it lmao. But I never got around to writing because I wasn't sure if it was being too self-indulgent (I'm feeling more confident about it now that I know you'll be pleased by it!). Also because I was having trouble deciding on a pov: should I continue with the Tatiana 1st person pov as always? Change it up to Martin 3rd person? or surprise: 1st person Don Juan?? Should it be a new chapter or new fic? (def. open to suggestions here!) Also I think it'd be Iconic to publish a story in the Dies Irae universe with our new cat profile pics.

Graphic detail time :D Prepare for a SUPER LONG answer LMAO. Most of the things I mentioned here and here will make their way in, with maybe a bonus ns/fw chapter from Martin or Andres' pov. The main story is SFW however, and there's like a hilariously high amount of hurt!Andres, who doesn't have demons to rely on anymore but still carries all the permanent damage the demons left on him:

It takes place some months after Absolvisti so Andres is doing better, but not fully well yet. He's not actively dying anymore but he does faint a lot and isn't exactly making a full recovery. Because I wanted to make things harder for Martin. Because he's not a young man anymore, the wounds were super extensive, and this is the result of years of accumulated damage + a form of "withdrawal" (the shadows/demons that used to feed on him were also the things that kept him alive so it's one big cycle that his body isn't leaving that easily).

This means every time Martin plans something nice for him like seeing a play or going out for a nightly walk, Andres can't go through the whole thing without feeling unwell. (Martin: "I over-exerted the love of my life. I am so SELFISH. what does Andres see in me??" Andres: "I disappointed the love of my life. I am the WEAKEST. what does Martin see in me??" Tatiana: feed me, bitches)

They manage to sit through one play though (not sure if I want this at the beginning or end of the fic LMAO). It's the one Bogota wrote, The Necromancer's Lament, a "biopic" about Andres' life. And it's every bit as terrible as Martin expected. Bad special effects, bad acting especially from Martin's actor, Andres' actor has a beard, and Tatiana looks like this:

Andres thinks it's the best play ever. Martin hates it and demands a refund. Tatiana hates it too but Don Juan's like, "mi amor, you are still beautiful to me, even as a deformed puppet."

Martin's 120-page complaints aside, Bogota runs the theatre troupe with his partner, Nairobi/Agata, and they're both going to start teaching performing arts at Santa Catalina because the last drama professor died lmao

Meanwhile, Santa Catalina has a new bad girl student, Tokyo/Silene! Sergio took her in as a charity case after some dark and mysterious events in her life. But Tokyo being Tokyo can't stay away from trouble, and she becomes obsessed with finding the demons that Andres expelled. Some bizarre possessions start happening again and the school's sponsors force Raquel to keep it under wraps. (Raquel: maybe if you increased funding, we wouldn't have so many problems!!)

In the meantime, Martin gets that letter from a long lost relative asking to meet him. Not sure about the order of this either. Anyway, Martin was planning to ignore the relative, but Andres insists he go. Either Tatiana or Don Juan accompany him. Martin learns that he's the sole heir of his dead parents across the sea (the will: “we forgive you for being a heretic, a freak of nature, and the alchemist of Palermo. also no hard feelings for leaving you to die as a baby xoxoxo”). There's one (1) condition though: he has to end his partnership with the necromancer. Martin: NO THANKS.

So while Martin's dealing with this unexpected drama, Sergio decides to call in Andres' expertise TM again because it's also a good excuse to talk to his brother. Martin is Very wary about this and rejects him. But Andres insists that it'll be fine. Plus, maybe he wants to turn a new leaf and help Santa Catalina for nothing in return this time. Not everyone gets a second chance at life and he doesn't want to be a bad person anymore uwu (Tatiana: "Andres was a pretentious piece of shit, surprising no one." Martin: "Nobody deserves Andres, not even me, and I'm like, the most amazing person in the world.")

Andres comes to do the exorcism with the random priest the school hired. And they discover there aren't any demons- it's just some ghost fucking around (maybe I'll make it the spirit of Gandia or Alicia since they haven't shown up yet lol). Anyway, it doesn't go very well but Andres gets rid of the creature or whatever. Not before it punctures a hole in his side though. Then Martin loses it, just full-on screams at Sergio for almost getting Andres killed again, makes a lot of threats against the school, etc. etc.

Raquel, being more useful, plugs up the wound. But the priest accidentally provokes Martin more by asking Raquel if he should mop up Andres' blood with holy water or something. What if the necromancer's blood is cursed?? And now it's all over the floor, so disgusting :/

Martin, already in a very bad mood, beats the priest up.

They go home. Martin's in a really sour mood and he just doesn't understand why Andres isn't mad at Sergio. Martin: "It's really emotionally damaging to me if you don't give a fuck about yourself." Andres makes him even angrier by bringing up the Berrote family will and having the audacity to suggest Martin leave him for money. He makes a huge case about how he literally has nothing to offer Martin except a body that barely works and a terrible reputation. Martin: "I lost a fucking eye for you??"

They fight and Martin storms away, and also kidnaps Don Juan, his honorary new soulmate who would never betray him like Andres.

A while after this, the Spanish Inquisition local clergy arrests Andres for "questioning." Because the shenanigans at Santa Catalina are still going on and that one priest suspects him of being behind everything just because. Raquel's the one who bails him out. She may not like Sergio's brother, but the way everyone else treats him is ridiculous.

Andres limps home, hoping Martin's still away. Surprise! Martin felt guilty and came back. And it's pretty obvious that Andres has just been tortured. Martin: "Say no more. I'm going to kill some people."

Andres gets Martin to not do anything stupid by dropping the thing with the will. He admits he was wrong for saying those things to Martin and he selfishly, genuinely wants to stay with Martin forever. Martin: "I'm still going to kill your brother. You may appease me with a kiss."

Does it end here? No! Because the shit at Santa Catalina is still happening. Andres and Martin solve it for good though. But it's all very dramatic. I'm vaguest about this part, but maybe Nairobi's injured saving Tokyo, and this gives Tokyo the wakeup call to move on from whatever baggage that got her into this mess in the first place. Then Andres' solution for saving Nairobi is to ask Martin to work that alchemist magic and transfer her wounds onto himself (at this point, we're just going overboard with the Andres whump but asdfasdf why stop??). Raquel: Sergio, tell your brother to stop dying. That's a bad example for the kids.

It takes a lot of convincing, but Martin relents in the end, only because he trusts Andres. At this point, Andres has been through so much that he physically cannot take any more damage. Like, he just can't lmao. So the whole process puts Andres into a coma or something. But we don't need him anymore because now we can revel in Martin's angst!

Martin spends the rest of his time crying and angsting and guilt-tripping Sergio, and just being very loud in general. He also writes back to his family and tells them to fuck off.

Once we indulge in enough of Martin's pain, Andres finally wakes up. Still very bad off but he's alive and not showing signs of dying any time soon. So that's good enough for Martin. They have a nice heart-to-heart, and idk, maybe Raquel comes to see them because Sergio's too embarrassed to. Until Andres insists, because he loves hermanito unconditionally uwu. Martin: "watch your back, Sergio. I might murder you in your sleep (:"

Then at the very end (I have no idea how long this story is LOL), there's some kind of family photoshoot between Raquel, Sergio, and Paula. Everyone's raving over this new invention called the "camera." Andres is admiring it from a distance until Raquel's like, "get over here. what part of FAMILY photoshoot do you not understand!?"

Andres is shocked pikachu face because good will towards him for once?? he's being included in something?? people want him around?? what is happening??

Martin's happy for him though. Then he's admiring from a distance until Raquel's like, "I said FAMILY photoshoot. Get over here, Martin!"

Tatiana didn't want to be a part of it, but Paula saw her favorite talking cat and like, grabbed her lmao. Don Juan photobombs it because he can't be excluded from an activity with Tatiana, especially when his former rival Andres is in the photo too. (His current rival is Casanova, an unworthy white cat vying for Tatiana's affections)

Sergio proposes to Raquel. The end! Yes, the kitty love triangle is also a central theme of this story LMAO Hope that satisfies you, nharidy! And I welcome any and all suggestions!

[misterywaren]

My Chaotic Reread Of Cdth

I’m rereading Cdth and the emotional roller coaster I’m on has me going on Tumblr and ranting as a read, hopefully someone can relate.

SPOILERS!!!  MAJOR MAJOR SPOILERS!!  (Disclaimer: It’s long)

All quotes belong to Call Down The Hawk By Maggie Stiefvater!

Welcome to today’s session of “I’m a train wreck of a reading person”!

“Lock tapped the time of Nathan Farooq-Lane’s death into his phone.”   Pg 10

Dangerous dreamers, fun.  Killing your own sibling with an obsession with blades, so much fun.

“Ronan Lynch was about to end the world.”   Pg 11

Rereading this makes me laugh, it’s so funny that one POV is like “Oh no we have to find the Zed who wants to end the world asap” and meanwhile insert Ronan Lynch: I’m about to end the world.  Slow down Lynch, we’re only on chapter 2 and I haven’t had my sip of coffee yet.

“Ronan missed him like a lung” Pg 17

Idk man, this is what I call quality romance, if you don’t miss your lover like a lung you’re doing something wrong.

“Please.” Pg 32

If you know, you know.

“You smell like home.” Pg 35

My heart, awe

Okay, when RONAN DOESN’T MENTION NOAH, I HURT.  For real, I read those theories dhuiehuefhefuheui

““Don’t kill anyone.”  The words were only an excuse to breathe in Ronan’s ear; it made a marvel of his nerve endings.” Pg 39

ADAM YOU FLIRT-

*reads the fight-not a fight part* *closes book* *walks out the front door* we’re gonna buy Adam Parrish a cup of self-worth. (Pg 44)

“I want it too much.” Pg 46

....and murder crabs 

“Now who’s the little bitch?” Pg 73

Ah, yes, the moment I fell in love with Hennessy.

“Nightwash” Pg 76

Okay, ngl when I first read this my mind was like: mouthwash Now I’m like: The name is perfect 

“Is there any version of you that could come with me to Cambridge? No” Pg 76

jwhdjshsbhjfv 

“You are made of dreams and this world is not for you.” Pg 77

Oh you- ~ The text messages between Ronan and Gansey are wholesome

“DBAG LYNCH” Pg 87

*Cackles*

Chapter 12 really changed my perspective of Declan and let me tell you, I came out of this book wanting to hug the hell out of Declan- 

“Jordan imagined flinging herself from a roof and flying” Pg 101 

The moment I fell in love with Jordan ~ Parsifal- I- <3

“Bryde, they said” Pg 128

Meanwhile, my brain: Here comes the Bryde 

“The orphans Lynch.” Pg 135

*tears* ~ Declan and Jordan = Yes  (Pg. the whole book) ~ Tbh when Gasey asked if “Badass” was two words or one, I spent 15 minutes thinking about that- but that’s just Gansey, he says something, sends me to question mark nation and then monologues, love him. (Pg. 161) ~ OH MATTHEW YOU INNOCENT I’M SO SORRY FOR WHAT’S COMING FOR YOU- (Pg 160) ~ PARSIFAL T-T (Pg 166) Carmen...ah  (Pg 179) ~ Chapter 28: HOLD ON, HOLD ON ~ PARSIFAL T-T (Pg 195)

““I saved your life because I love you and I was scared [...]”  “I know you.”“ (Pg 204-206)

Yes, that’s all, yes ~ Tyrian purple (Pg 214) ~ YES DECLAN HAPPINESS, H A P P I N E S S (Pg 231) ~ *Insert Adam* *Insert Ronan* *Insert kisses* *Insert my happy tears* I’ll never tire of this scene, never, it’s so, you know? (Pg. 235-237) ~ *insert scrying* *insert scream* there has been a disturbance in the force *insert Ronan holding Adam* disturbance has been demolished (Chapter 39) ~ *insert Adam leaving* :( *insert Adam stalling* :D *insert Ronan feeling alone* :( *Insert kisses goodbye* :D  (Chapter 41)

“You are the most expensive thing I have ever saved” Pg 267

And this is the moment where I stared at the page for 5 minutes just loving this line ~ *Insert Ronan saving Hennessy* "THAT’S MY SON!” I yelled into the abyss/at my bedroom wall. (chapter 44) ~ *the matthew scene* You know the first time I read this I was in class and I was sobbing.  No matter how many times I read it, I die, can someone stop me from throwing myself out a window?  Please, it hurts. (Pg. 312) ~ *the matthew to ronan scene* Hahahaha haha ha *channels inner Neil Josten* I’m fine, totally fine, didn’t have my heart ripped out of my chest, NOPE (Pg. 316) ~ Chapter 56, I bow down to you, you’re amazing. ~ When Ronan said “my boyfriend” I screeched.  (Pg. 357) Ha..WERE GOING ON A TRIP TO OUR FAVOURITE MAGICAL FOREST, SOARING THROUGH DREAMS, IT’S GONNA BE FINE. (What am I doing?) ~ P A R S I F A L (pg. 364) ~ Declan “in case you don’t have internal organs” Lynch. (Pg. 371) Ouuu plot twist (Pg. 373) ~ Living for awkward Declan, you know? ~ Chainsaw and Opal, thank you for gracing me with your presence (Pg. 393) Give the girl some time Lynch, she’s scared (Chapter. 67) ~ (chapter 69) Sing it with me guys “Something good is happening, that can only mean we’re about to get our hearts broken! ay!”  THE PAINTINGS- Oh Declan, hun, you *hugs book* it’s okay, I’m sorry, I love you. ~ The dogs, yes Ronan, yess (pg. 428) ~

“Tamquam. It was marked unread.” -Pg. 458 

Ahahah, didn’t need my heart anyways ~ I reached the end and here I am again yelling at the book to give me answers and crying, it’s great to be alive. ~

Wow you’ve made it to the end (or you scrolled and scrolled and here you are, hello). Hope you enjoyed my rant and reread of this book, I’m a mess, I love this book so much. I loved The Raven Cycle as well and I can’t wait for the next book in this trilogy. Have a wonderful day and stay safe guys! *whisper hisses* MAY COME FASTER 

[iwach4n]

haikyuu characters as british sixth form students

i low key hate myself for this but i needed to do it. it’s necessary. also i only did subjects they do at my school

KARASUNO

sawamura daichi - takes history, maths and business, but he only really did business because he didn’t know what else to take; his suit is always like perfectly fitted like he actually tried when he was buying it; probably head boy honestly; follows the rules a bit too strictly but you can’t even be annoyed because he’s too nice; will give you the extra 50p you need to get a diet coke before school even if you don’t know him; is friends with the popular roadmen type and is the only one out of the group that you trust

sugawara koushi - takes english, art, classics and maths AS to feel smarter; says he regrets taking art like 20 times a day but still always has amazing pieces; the one kid that’s sort of in a lot of friend groups but has like two genuine close friends; the go-to if you need to copy homework because he’s always done it and will let you even if its as the teacher is collecting it; the only boy who actually tries on non-uniform day and has really nice outfits; makes you nervous if you don’t know him well because he seems too nice

azumane asahi - takes textiles, english and psychology but textiles was the only one he really wanted to do; the guy you’re scared of before you get sat next to him and it turns out he’s a sweetheart; you can’t remember the last time you saw him wearing a blazer; you ask to copy his homework because he seems smart and sort of put together but it turns out he was about to ask you the same thing; all the teachers love him; probably plays rugby honestly

tanaka ryuunosuke - takes PE, drama and french but he only did french because he liked the teacher he had for GCSE and didn’t fail it; if you’re in the same group as him for drama you have to yell at him to actually act properly but once you do he’s actually good; never has a tie; definitely the guy who yells at girls like “ayo miss! miss!!! miss can i chat to you!!!!!” even though he always gets ignored; is a roadman and is friends with roadmen but is actually nice to most people, you still don’t trust him tho; acts friendly with teachers even though they hate him

nishinoya yuu - takes PE, biology and psychology because he was told they work well together but is failing all of them; constantly on report and in detention; you don’t trust him because he’s friends with roadmen and is generally popular but when you talk to him he’s actually alright, none of your friends who haven’t talked to him believe you though; always begging to copy your homework and if you say no he’ll offer you like,,, 20p; always gets picked to do the 100m on sports day and holds the school record for it

hinata shoyo - takes PE, geography and psychology, cried when he found out there was maths in all of them; got low-key bullied in years 7-9 but is now generally well liked; mocked for his height and gets offended even though its in good nature; is that one kid who’s friends with all the popular people but unless you’ve had a class with him you literally haven’t heard of him; forgets its non-uniform day every single time; does shitty bike tricks while cycling down the road to school, there’s a video that everyone has seen of him falling off

kageyama tobio - takes PE, french and business, he was going to take maths because he didn’t know what else but his GCSE grade wasn’t high enough; the one quiet kid in class who’s just intimidating and will not speak to you if you sit next to him; is generally considered popular but when you think about it you have no clue if he has any friends; yells at you for not taking the mandatory non a-level PE sessions seriously; always buys a yazoo or capri sun from he school canteen; literally just completely zones out in study periods

tsukishima kei - takes history, classics, german and english, all of them full course coz he’s a dickhead (i say this but i am also taking four full course); you can’t remember the last time you saw him take actual notes in a lesson but he’s still got amazing grades; if there’s ever a debate in lessons he gets annoyed and swears and gets sent out; in detention for using his phone a lot coz he literally doesn’t care; always has beef with the roadmen, one time he got into a physical fight with one of them and won; won’t snitch on you for breaking any rules UNLESS he actively dislikes you

yamaguchi tadashi - takes art, graphic design and english; literally lives in the art and tech building and is best friends with all the teachers; other than tsukishima all his friends are girls; the one guy everyone thinks is gay but he just isn’t; sometimes brings like a whole box of celebrations into school and as long as he sort of recognises your face he will offer you one; he has really neat notes but he owns like one highlighter and its bright orange which ruins it; will let you take pictures of him for your art project

yachi hitoka - takes art, textiles, business and AS maths; always has the cutest outfits with pretty pastel jumpers and subtle necklaces; actively avoids eye contact whenever a teacher is asking a question even though she always knows the answer; is terrified walking past roadmen and football fields (she’s been hit in the head with the ball too many times); will buy you food from the canteen if you don’t have enough; no one knows where she goes at lunch but they never see her around and never see her leave; became a prefect because her teacher said she should; runs a textiles club for KS3

shimizu kiyoko - takes geography, maths, business and AS further maths; everyone thought she’d be like head girl but she didn’t even run for it; she’s too used to ignoring guys trying to talk to her so if you actually need to speak to her about something important good luck; is invited to every party but never goes; had THE biggest glow up from year 7; stays at school over lunch even though sixth formers can leave, can always be found at one specific bench or in her geography teacher’s classroom

NEKOMA

kuroo tetsurou - takes chemistry, physics, german and AS maths even though he was told not to do german coz it didn’t suit his other subjects; is somehow good at everything - gets good grades, really good at sports, you see videos on his instagram of him playing guitar - its genuinely unfair; is friendly with teachers and they love him; if a teacher suggests a movie lesson he will immediately ask for either bee movie, shrek or some shitty one off youtube (killer bean anyone?); is friends with literally everyone; this is a direct description of the one guy at my school who just is kuroo

yaku morisuke - takes french, geography, economics, and AS maths; plays cricket and helps run the club for year 7s, but only because it was required to be a prefect; is friendly with roadmen but the minute they leave he'll have the most disgusted and pained expression; seems really smart and put together but you've seen him swear like a sailor when he misses the bus and get blackout drunk at a party so you really don't know what to think

kenma kozume - takes computer science, maths and business; always in the computer rooms or the tech block because those are the places you can use your phone; you think he has no friends until you see him talking to the popular boys; everyone knows who he is even if like 2% of people have actually spoken to him; skips PE to sit in the toilet on his phone; always has spare everything but you can't tell coz its all just loose in his bag

yamamoto taketora - takes PE, history and english; has played basketball every single lunchtime since year 7 and he's not about to stop now; uses over-the-top compliments to chat up girls and then calls them clapped when they reject him; is trying his best with school work but is struggling, if you sit next to him please help him; is mates with everyone he's ever sat next to and will fist-bump you when you walk past each other; is obsessed with a specific instagram model and everyone calls him a simp for it

lev haiba - takes drama, PE and psychology coz they're the "easy" subjects (he's barely passing any of them); tries to be friendly with teachers but then he says something bad and it backfires; constantly has a massive bag of doritos with him and gets crumbs everywhere; still wears his shirts from year 11 coz he didn't want to buy new ones; talks to girls in younger years and is constantly called a nonce for it even though he never dates any of them; wannabe roadman that the roadmen don't really like

AOBA JOHSAI

oikawa tooru - takes physics, maths, and business and he's Struggling but he won't let anyone see that; the one guy that everyone likes and you had a crush on for like two weeks and then regretted it for the rest of your life; friends with all the roadmen and dresses like one but doesn't act like them (he's worse); talks to and dates year 10 girls but no one calls him a nonce for some reason; when you first see him you think 'damn he's hot' but a week later you're actively avoiding him in the corridors; puts porn on his snapchat story and captions it 'mood'

iwaizumi hajime - takes PE, biology and business; "friends" with all the roadmen but you get the feeling he wants to be literally anywhere else; always yelling and takes every joke too seriously; shoves his PE kit in the same part of his bag as all his books and has to pull out his sweaty shirt to get to his pencilcase; will be nice to you if you sit next to him but it feels forced; always has a cherry pepsi and a pack of wine gums or dolly mix in his bag and he won't share any with you

mattsukawa issei - takes english, biology and german even though they're ridiculously mismatched; he's not a known druggie but you're like 99% sure he's stoned all the time; will talk to you randomly if he recognises you but its intimidating coz he's popular; you can't tell if he's a virgin or if he gets mad bitches; asks uncomfortable questions in sex ed and has a shit-eating grin on his face the whole time; always late to every lesson and form time; gets blackout drunk in a field at least once a week

hanamaki takahiro - takes latin, history, german and AS english; you think he's dumb until you sit next to him in a lesson and he knows all the answers to everything; he's the nicest ever if he's on his own but if he's with his friends you have to avoid him; he came to cricket club once and now he gets put in the matches if they don't have enough people; tries to keep his stupid silver puffer jacket on in lessons; will wolf-whistle at girls to show off to his mates; you'd trust him with your drink at a party but you're too nervous to approach him

kyoutani kentarou - takes english, biology and maths but it barely matters coz he's never in lessons; school cryptid; you don't know if he's in exclusion or just not in school; if a cover teacher calls out his name in the register everyone jokingly says he's dead; will fight a roadman with 0.5% of an excuse; if you're not a roadman or chav he's acc really cool and will be your friend; has a million friends outside of school and if you want some drugs, whether its weed or like, meth, he knows a guy; probably a skater

kunimi akira - takes maths, computing, economics and AS further maths but is miserable about it coz none of his friends took mathsy subjects; just sits quietly and stares at the teacher, he barely takes notes but still gets good grades; asks to copy your homework right before the lesson and then bullies you for making mistakes in it; you see him pouring monster energy in his waterbottle before school; says he's gonna drop further maths every lesson but never does; sleeps in lunchtime detentions

SHIRATORIZAWA

ushijima wakatoshi - takes history, classics, latin and AS english; definitely plays rugby; you wonder if he even has a social life because he's always at a sports club or doing schoolwork every lunch time and after school; never has a fucking coat even if its below freezing; his parents buy him beer and cider that he drinks while just chilling in his room; probably the one guy you know who lives just,,, in the woods; his instagram has one picture and its of him shirtless, it has hundreds of likes but he was last online 20 weeks ago

tendou satori - takes drama, computing and maths; got really bullied in like,,, years 7-9 but now just sticks to his friend group and is fine; his hobby is annoying his teachers and is a bit of a class clown; turns the wifi setting off on the school computers and plays the google dinosaur game in lessons even though he's literally doing computing alevel; somehow always gets away with not doing his homework; the only weeb in the entire school, is angry about that fact constantly; drinks way too much monster energy, he's 50% of the local corner shop's profit

semi eita - takes music, maths, and business; you think he only took music because people think its an easy subject but he's genuinely good at it and is predicted an A*; every girl in younger years has a crush on him and it worries him; he lives in the music block; had a year 8 emo phase and will murder you if you bring it up; drinks the white monster more than he drinks water; sort of tiktok famous for his bass videos and no one believes he's british; also probably a skater

bokuto koutarou - takes PE, english and drama but is Struggling in english; wears a coat every single day, even if its boiling hot; plays subway surfers on his phone in study periods and somehow never gets caught; has popular friends but prefers his other friends; slaps his mates ass in the PE changing rooms (says no homo tho); has to type his exams because his handwriting is too messy; has a love-hate relationship with his teachers; buys custard donuts from the local supermarket every morning

FUKURODANI

akaashi keiji - takes RS, french, classics and english AS; the one guy you've never spoken to but trust more than anyone you know; every teacher wants him for their subject on open evening; really needs a nap. seriously get the boy some sleep; no one thought he was attractive until like year 9 - 10 and is now just The pretty boy; goes to costa every day before school and somehow can afford that; mentors year 10s in english and french and looks like he hates every second of it

OTHER

astumu miya - does PE, business and computing, is still useless at programming; loudly and carelessly discusses his sex life with no shame whatsoever; looks really good in the suit and just in general but makes you hate yourself for thinking that; he would get a perm. he would; on the rugby team and threatens to rugby tackle everyone constantly; does hard drugs at parties; tries to chat up any alt / goth / grunge girl he sees even thought they all immediately hate him

sakusa kiyoomi - takes PE, biology and sociology; got bullied for being a germaphobe but never gave two shits about it; rude as shit to all the roadmen but is generally chill with anyone else; one of very few people who wore a black suit and it looks damn good; somehow got into the popular-but-not-quite-roadmen group by sixth form; brings his own hot lunch in like a thermos because the school food is nasty but he needs hot lunch; just wears like a t shirt, jeans and a leather jacket on non-uniform days but somehow looks like a god

[chibinightowl]

First Contact

Inspired by @tanekore‘s utterly amazing Jason Todd piece, Freedom Fighter. I meant to have this up last week, but life threw me a ton of lemons, so I had to deal with the influx first. The story is set a few years in the future of a JayDick piece I wrote last year, which can be read here (forewarned, it’s E). This story is most definitely not. ^_^

---

The quiet ping from Tim’s comm put him on instant alert. And what a time for it, right in the middle of a conference vid with Federation High Command. Thank the stars he was alone in his office on board the Titan because otherwise, someone would undoubtedly notice the quiet shift of his hands as he brought up a holoscreen beneath his desk.

Normally, he wouldn’t go through the effort during a meeting such as this, but the alert was one he’d been waiting, no, hoping for since he lost contact with the merchant vessel his ultimate trump card was carefully stashed away on. The AI was his greatest accomplishment, so the loss of the ship and his agent were devastating to his plans to regain control over the hijacked Unternet, the sub-particle web that connected all the planets and colonies in the system with Earth. Anything was possible on those data streams and the government needed to regain control before Ulysses Armstrong realized exactly what he now had access to.

Tim suspected Moneyspider was involved somehow and Oracle concurred. Between them, they knew just about everything worth knowing in the Earth Federation; their respective roles in the Intelligence Service giving them more power than that fool of a President could ever dream of. Unlike the Penguin, he and Barbara Gordon were determined to use this knowledge for the betterment of all.

There were plans in place to overthrow the current regime, plans that they’d been ready to implement at the start of the next election cycle. Plans that were now crashing around them because of Armstrong. The AI had been key and now, despite all the odds, it was signaling it was back online.

How was Tim’s main question as his fingers flew over the small screen while maintaining eye contact with Admiral Wayne and the other Commanders of the six fleets that made up Naval forces protecting the solar system. From what was always a favorite unvoiced question of his since most of their turmoil came from within rather than from beyond. Case in point, right here as Armstrong was one of theirs, a former Naval officer with a massive chip on his shoulder that was often directed right at him.

Humans and their drama, he’d heard a Kryptonian say with derision once where he wasn’t supposed to overhear. It wasn’t entirely wrong, especially since humanity seemed to carry with them eons of history that they behaved as though occurred yesterday. Always looking to the past, the Kryptonian had added before changing the topic. 

Like they were ones to talk. There was a reason they were banned from this system. Or any other system with a yellow star. 

Tim swiped at the small holoscreen, tapping in the codes to receive data from the AI. Where was it? 

Streams of information flooded the screen, so fast his cybernetic-enhanced eyes could barely keep up. Dammit, this vid needed to end now. He could only listen to Ogilvy and Lark rehash the same stupid event for the third time. Neither of them came out of that looking great and both were determined to blame the other while trying to regain face with the Admiral.

Apparently, Admiral Wayne couldn’t stand to listen to it again either. “Alright, I think we’ve reached the end of the walk-ons,” he interrupted when Ogilvy paused for breath. “I expect to see all of you planet-side for the Naval graduation in three weeks. Until then, standard channels unless an emergency crops up.” 

He didn’t give the others a chance to reply and disconnected the vid, ending the conference. 

“Thank you,” Tim breathed, sending his holos to eye level with a flick of his wrist and expanding them. “TIM, load a chart of your current location.”

“Loading.” 

A large blue orb appeared on a third holo above the other two. 

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Neptune? How under the sun did you arrive there?”

The lost shuttle had been traveling between his base above Jupiter and Mars, using the interplanetary gates. Neptune’s current orbit could not be further away if it tried. 

A new stream of data appeared, complex figures and symbols that only someone with cybernetics could understand. What Tim read made him grimace because Oracle’s suspicions were now confirmed. Armstrong had used the Unternet to interfere with the interplanetary gates.

This was not good. At all.

“Current status?”

“Power cells at 15%, no exterior damage, and my scans indicate no internal damage either. However, I am in the hands of a human male who claims to be one of the greatest hackers who ever lived and he’s on the verge of cracking my HUD.”

“Son of a bitch,” Tim swore, fingers flying across the screen as he attempted to narrow in his own satellites and scanners on the AI’s location. “Any chance to draw power from elsewhere?”

“I’ve got enough power for a self-destruct. Should I initiate?”

Good question. Tim frowned and glanced back at the screen showing Neptune.

“Get me a visual on your hacker.”

The image flickered and a face appeared, framed by untamed red hair and a grungy cap that should have seen the trash bin ages ago. He was human alright, and smart enough to wear protective goggles as he poked around at TIM’s HUD. There was something familiar about him, but with his eyes concealed, it was up to facial recognition to narrow the possibilities. 

A list of possible names popped up, and Tim honed in on one immediately. Roy Harper, alias Arsenal. Member of the antigovernment group the Outlaws and listed as their resident munitions and technology expert. Hacker could probably fall under that category, although Tim suspected the man’s claims to be exaggerated unless things had drastically changed since the last time their paths crossed. 

It was times like these that Tim missed the relative simplicity of his Academy days. Dick would not be happy if he were to learn about this. 

Best not to tell him then. 

“No need for self-destruct yet,” he instructed the AI. “The Outlaws aren’t as antiestablishment as they’d like the press to believe. In their own way, they’re trying to take the Penguin down too.”

Not that they were doing a good job of it. They needed a plan, structure. A leader who didn’t fly off the handle and blow things up at the drop of a hat.

“Standby then, sir?”

Tim watched as Harper leaned in closer. Another figure stood behind him, just over his shoulder, but wearing a full-face mask as opposed to Harper’s goggles. He zoomed in and stepped back in surprise. 

It was an oni mask, grim and fearsome, and as red as the eyes of the man whose face it concealed. The thing was, he wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near this sector of space. In fact, if he remembered correctly, the file stated he was near Venus on the New Arkham penal colony, sentenced for a lifetime of hard labor in the mines for more murders than Tim had fingers and toes. 

Jason Todd. The Red Hood. 

What the hell was he doing here? 

Tim’s nearly obsessive need for answers had him sitting back down in his chair, eyes locked on the vid. “Yes. Standby and observe.”

---

Ghost ships never failed to give Jason the creeps. Death and him were old friends, but it didn’t make it any easier when the people bumping into him in zero-g never had a chance. An interplanetary gateway malfunction, Roy had guessed when they came upon the ship hanging in Neptune’s gravity-well. The large shuttle definitely wasn’t the type to travel long distances, and there wasn’t much out this far unless a person was readying to leave the system altogether. They were lucky the Starfire was of Tamaranean design, otherwise there would be no oxygen slowly filtering in from the docking port. This shuttle wasn’t the biggest he’d ever seen, but it was large enough for a good fifty or so passengers.

Where had it come from?

Jason pushed another drifting body away from where Roy crouched on the floor, the magnetic pull of their gravity-boots allowing them to stand still. “Seriously, let’s get out of here already.”

“Someone afraid of a bunch of dead people?”

“I see dead people all the time. You’re next if you don’t move your ass.”

Roy ignored him, entranced with the new toy he’d found drifting amongst the other detritus. “You don’t get it, Jaybird. This is DI tech. Drake Industries. We’re talking top-of-the-line, best of the best, tech here. It’s so expensive I can’t even afford it in my dreams.”

“You can’t even afford a new hat.”

“Go poke through the engine room. If there’s any charge left to those ion batteries, we’ll be sittin’ pretty for a cycle or more.”

Jason sighed as he wandered away. This was what he was reduced to, sifting through wreckage of dead vessels and scavenging for goods that would put food in his stomach and recharge the fuel cells on Kory’s ship. The last attempt to gain a foothold in the Federation had crippled the Outlaws more than the government likely realized, and it wasn’t just because they’d captured him.

No, even after his rescue by the two most incredible people he’d ever known, it all boiled down to one thing.

Money.

Well, money and information. Neither of which were in great abundance at the moment.

So here they were, out in the back of beyond licking their wounds and biding their time. Another opportunity to take a stab at the Penguin would come again. It had to, because otherwise, what was the point? What had he given everything up for if not for that one chance to make things right, better for everyone in the Earth Federation?

Not for the first time, an image of Dick flashed before his eyes and Jason shoved the thought away with a grimace. Fuck memory lane and fuck Dick Grayson. The past was the past and he’d more than learned from the mistakes he’d made there.

The engine room proved to have nothing but inert batteries, the charge to them utterly neutralized by the energies of a malfunctioning gateway. Jason shoved the last tube back into its casing and scowled. There went any chance of a decent meal unless he wanted to sift through the luggage in the hold.

Why the fuck not? It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, not with Roy still poking and prodding at that piece of DI tech.

The cold, dark air in the storage compartments made Jason shiver as soon as he entered. With all the pods, it reminded him of a tomb. In a way it was, as everything down here wasn’t needed by the people floating up above. Chances were likely all the passengers died when the gateway created the wormhole that sent them out here, but there might have been a few stragglers who slowly suffocated as the air ran out.

He got to work, switching on a light-stick to see by, and sorted through the luggage pods. There were a few promising items. Earth gems always garnered some decent creds outside the system, so the jewelry he found was stashed away quick enough. A silken robe he set aside for Kory, and in the depths of one suitcase, he found a stash of physical cred chips.

Maybe there would be some beef to add to his broccoli after all.

“Hey, Jay!” Roy called from above. “You down here?”

“Yeah!” Jason returned to the stairs so he wouldn’t need to shout. “The engine room was a bust, but you might want to check it out, just in case. Got a few things in here that might be worth something if we head over to Vega for the exchange.”

Roy clomped down the stairs, the pull on his boots against the metal making it ring with each step. “You won’t believe what this is.” He held out the thick, circular disc he’d been messing around with earlier.

“Something we can trade for a shit ton of creds?”

“Technically, yes. However, I think we might want to keep it.”

Jason frowned, not sure what his best friend was getting at. “Why?”

“Because this isn’t just DI tech. This is Drake Industries AI tech.”

Well now. Even he’d heard rumors about the kind of artificial intelligence DI was involved with. All military grade stuff too, the kind that required the highest of clearances to even be in the same room with it.

And now, here they were with what could be one of the most cutting-edge AIs in the system.

He sighed, not looking forward to poking through the bodies upstairs to see who it might have belonged to. “What have you done to it?”

Roy laughed, eyes a little wild as he slipped his shades back on. It didn’t matter that it was darker than the murk that constantly surrounded New Gotham, the man could see perfectly with them. “Charged the battery a bit. It was almost dead.”

“Are we gonna die if we turn this thing on?”

“Probably not.” Roy handed the disc to him. “At least, I’m 60% sure.”

Jason had lived through worse odds, but because he had a reputation to maintain, he still gave his friend shit. “Gee, that’s reassuring. And since you’re just so goddamned skilled at putting me at ease, I’m covering my face. The last thing we need is the Federation on our asses right now.” 

Roy shrugged and took a few steps back as Jason slid his oni mask on. It used the same lens technology as Roy’s shades. “Your funeral.”

“Yeah, it is.”

It wasn’t that Jason didn’t trust Roy. He knew in the coldest cockles of his heart that the man would never betray him. The problem was, his best friend was erratically brilliant and if what he said about this piece of tech was in anyway accurate, then they had a treasure trove of information and access into the inner workings of the Federation in their hands.

This was the edge the Outlaws needed to get back in the game. 

If he wasn’t, then chances were likely they were about to get fucked because that was the way their luck had been of late.

“Here goes nothing.” Jason pressed lightly on the activation sensor. 

The device illuminated and spun in his hand, glowing with a faint blue light as it hovered before them. A hologram appeared, about ten inches in height, of what appeared to be a human male. A rather attractive one at that, with fine features, sharp cheekbones, and an even sharper jaw. 

Whoever made the AI, they were definitely projecting a fantasy because no man could be that good looking. 

The hologram’s eyes narrowed. “I am TIM, designation 003-07-19. Who are you?”

Was that a bit of sass Jason’s ears detected? “Who do you think we are?” he asked instead, wanting to see what this thing could do.

A small HUD light up in front of TIM the AI. “Visual scans indicate Roy Harper, known as Arsenal, and Jason Todd, the Red Hood. Members of the antigovernment group the Outlaws.” Those eyes narrowed again. “Such an original name,” he muttered.

“Hey, who’re you to judge?” Jason shoved his mask up over his head because there was apparently no point in hiding behind it. With the light the AI was giving off, he could see just fine. “What kind of AI are you?”

“I am TIM,” the hologram replied. “Tactical Information Manager. Series 003-07-19.”

At least he answered direct questions. Why wasn’t he checking for clearance codes? Was this a private piece of tech rather than Navy? If so, whoever created this was a goddamned genius.

“Okay, TIM. Here’s the deal. We found you on board a ghost ship. There’s not a living soul out here except for me and Roy. You do what we tell you, we’ll bring you back to the inner ring.”

Eventually. Jason crossed his toes in his boots, a habit from childhood he never quite grew out of.

“My files indicate you are supposed to be on the New Arkham penal colony.”

Jason smirked. Looked like the government didn’t want to admit they’d fucked up and lost him. “Does it look like we’re on New Arkham? I don’t think so.”

“No, coordinates indicate we are orbiting Neptune.”

Looked like TIM’s data relays were connecting to the Starfire’s mainframe. Whether that was a good thing or not was for Roy to decide. Although, Kory would be pissed if they’d managed to fuck up her ship while she was undercover on the Titan.  “Yeah, it’s a real gas.” 

The humor was lost on the AI. “Did you escape then? Please tell me how so that I can update my files.” 

“Don’t think so, Timmy. If the government wants to believe they still have me all safe and sound in that hellhole, let them. It’s their fault they couldn’t keep me there in the first place.” Not that he ever made it there, but the AI didn’t need to know that.

“My name is TIM, not Timmy.” The AI sounded almost prissy. 

Jason leaned forward. “Your name is whatever I feel like calling ya.”

“Then that will make it hard to determine if you need my services or are speaking to the bots.”

“What the fuck kind of AI are you?”

“The best kind.”

--- Behind the HUD, the real Tim snickered as Todd’s posturing turned more and more into bewilderment the longer he bickered with TIM. Or maybe it was his makeshift uniform because who under the sun finds a man with an ice cream pin tacked onto his jacket intimidating? It even smiled. 

Still, this was a unique opportunity and one that he wasn’t about to waste. The Outlaws were working toward a similar goal as he and Oracle, even if they approached it from a different angle. How did that old adage go? The enemy of my enemy is my friend? 

Yes, he could make this work. Possibly even use these men to further his own goals and take out Armstrong. Wasn’t there a third person who was part of the main crew, a Tamaranean female? He’d have to check.

“The best kind,” Todd repeated, mocking while Harper snickered beside him. “Someone’s got a massively high opinion of himself.”

“Says the man who’s holding his life and jacket together with safety pins and duct tape,” Tim replied, and the AI repeated the words.

Todd’s face turned red and he pointed a gloved finger at TIM. “Listen here, TIM. I recognize DI tech when I see it. That shit’s top notch and so are you. And right now, you’re mine. So whatever backtalk you’ve got programmed into your behavioral patterns, forget it.” 

“I’m afraid you’re sadly mistaken,” the AI stated on its own. “Part of my programming includes the ability to verbally spar. My maker designed me so.”

Yes, and he was rather proud of that little fact. TIM was an extension of himself after all, designed to go where he could not.

“They programmed you to annoy the fuck outta people?”

“You are not my maker and I am not being used for my intended purpose. As such, anything I can do to complete my mission, I will.”

Harper whistled, low and slow. “Wow. I had no idea AI technology was this advanced. Those are subversive behavior patterns, right there.”

But Todd grinned slowly and held TIM higher. This close, Tim found himself face to face with a pair of stunning teal eyes, not red at all like the file stated. Were they his real color? He mentally smacked himself. Now was not the time to fixate on a pair of attractive eyes.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

The sad thing was, Tim was highly inclined to agree with him.

[theyearoftheking]

Book Fifty-One: Everything’s Eventual

“There comes a time in most lives when we must face the deaths of our loved ones as an actual reality... and, by proxy, the fact of our own approaching death. This is probably the single greatest subject of horror fiction: our need to cope with a mystery that can be understood only with the aid of a hopeful imagination.” 

I had dinner once with a guy who was trying to either relate to me, or impress me... the jury is still out. Once he found out I was from Milwaukee, he told me how he had once seen Ted Bundy’s apartment in downtown Milwaukee. 

Slow blink.

Ted Bundy was never in Milwaukee, dumb ass. You’re obviously talking about Jeffrey Dahmer, and comparing the two is like chalk and cheese. Completely different victim populations, MO’s... basically the only thing they have in common is both being white men. Oh, and Bundy is considered more conventionally attractive. If you were to listen to the Parcast Serial Killers podcast on Dahmer, they described him as, “good looking, by Milwaukee standards...” So, there’s that. 

This conversation still upsets me years later. It should have upset me more that the “Bundy in Milwaukee” guy went on to talk about his wife’s STD, but that’s a conversation for another time. 

I didn’t choose the Dahmer life, it chose me. When he was captured in 1991, I was my daughter’s age, and it was the most sensational piece of news to hit Milwaukee... well, maybe ever. The details about the half-eaten corpses, the body parts in the freezer... I couldn’t get enough of it. Had I not stumbled across my mom’s copy of Small Sacrifices years earlier, it’s possible Dahmer could have been the catalyst for my murderino obsession. Sadly, Diane Downs got to me first. I was obsessed with the pictures in the middle of the book... it was the first time I realized monsters are real, and human monsters are scarier than anything Stephen King or Dean Koontz could dream up. 

Sidebar: check out the Two Face podcast, told by the daughter Diane put up for adoption. I’m obsessed. 

But, Dahmer is my local serial killer, so my knowledge is complete and wildly inappropriate at dinner parties (remember when those were a thing?). There’s even a local neighborhood bar that does a Dahmer walking tour; where my sister talked me out of buying this especially cool t-shirt... she felt it was too on-the-nose. She might be right. I even dragged a friend with me to see My Friend Dahmer... because I was scared of looking like a creeper at the theater alone. Every time we drive past Columbia County Correctional, I make sure to remind my (very annoyed) daughter that Dahmer was killed there. 

My point is, I know a lot about Jeffrey Dahmer. What’s one of the key things I know? HE’S NOT BURIED. HE DOESN’T HAVE A GRAVE. HIS PARENTS HAD HIM CREMATED AND SPLIT HIS REMAINS. 

Once more for the cheap seats in the back: 

JEFFREY DAHMER DOESN’T HAVE A GRAVE. 

Why all the shouty caps? 

Because Steve doesn’t know this. Steve is blissfully unaware that he has a character bragging about sleeping on Jeffrey Dahmer’s non-existent grave. I can’t even give you a good review of Everything’s Eventual, because this bothers me so much. It’s like the fucking Starbuck’s cup someone forgot to remove from the Game of Throne’s scene. It bothers me that much. 

Here was my reading process on this short story collection...

Autopsy Room Four: Creepy! This is the shit that haunts my dreams. Good start to the collection!

The Man in the Black Suit: Fun! A Castle Rock mention

All That You Love Will Be Carried Away: Are we to the Little Sisters short story yet? I need a Dark Tower fix...

The Death of Jack Hamilton: I love a good mobster story. And this one mentions the Dillinger gang shoot-out at Little Bohemia, so yay for a Wisconsin reference! Great story. 

In the Deathroom: Escobar. Meh. If we’re going to do back-to-back mobster stories, the Dillinger one was better. 

Little Sisters of Eluria: Swoon. Double swoon. Steve uses the line, “tintinabulation of the bells.” Tintinabulation is a word Edgar Allen Poe completely made up, but it’s an excellent example of onomatopoeia. This is an example of what I have to show for all my student loan debt (thanks, Cares Act for the deferment!): the fact I can both recognize and give an obscure example of onomatopoeia. And spot Poe like a boss bitch. This story is set post Wizard and Glass, and ties back into The Talisman; and almost makes up for the Dahmer slippage. 

Everything’s Eventual: Thought provoking, but I’m really looking forward to finishing this collection and diving back into The Dark Tower universe. 

L.T.’s Theory of Pets: Trigger warning for violence towards animals. I once had Blood and Smoke- an audio book collection Steve did; and this story was included. I’ve never forgotten it. It’s a classic. 

The Road Virus Heads North: A Derry mention! Oh, and Dahmer too. That’s fun. 

Lunch at the Gotham Cafe: Weird. This is the second story that includes a Dear John letter, and a jilted husband. Wonder what was going on with Steve and Tabby... Oh gross, a Donald Trump and Ivana line. *Swallows vomit*

That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is in French: Oh good, 1408 is next! 

1408: DAHMER DOESN’T HAVE A GRAVE!!!!!! 

Riding the Bullet: Oh, a Castle Rock mention. But, um, DAHMER DOESN’T HAVE A GRAVE!

Luckey Quarter: Why is lucky spelled wrong? And also... DAHMER DOESN’T HAVE A GRAVE!!! 

So, yeah. Full disclosure. Re-living the Dahmer’s grave story just made me crack open a juice box full of sangria. Fun fact: the friend who made this sangria, is the same one I dragged along to My Friend Dahmer. She is a lovely, wonderful, generous human being; who is not the least bit fazed by my serial killer knowledge. And her sangria is delicious too. 

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 35

Total Dark Tower References: 51

Book Grade: B- (generous, considering the Dahmer gaffe) 

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Wizard and Glass: A+

Needful Things: A+

On Writing: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Hearts in Atlantis: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

Bag of Bones: A-

Black House: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

From a Buick 8: B

The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon: B

Storm of the Century: B-

Everything’s Eventual: B-

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Desperation: C-

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

Dreamcatcher: D

The Regulators: D

The Tommyknockers: D-

Next is Wolves of the Calla. I am so stupid excited to finish off The Dark Tower series. Only 18 years of Steve left to go, and a little over 3 months to get it done. Stay tuned.

Until next time, Long Days and Pleasant Nights, Rebecca

[sebinvld]

a playlist featuring ten tracks that have strong sebin vibes. the theme is “sebin sucks, but make it punk.”

track 001:  nothing,nowhere., true love — “blood on my fist, know that life is a bitch / feel like i always be throwin’ a fit / life is a club, i don’t know how i fit.”

* tw mentions of self-harm, death in the lyrics of this song.

there’s no denying the fact that you’re a fighter. it wasn’t always physical; at one point, it was just with your words. you used them as weapons, digging, digging, digging until you struck something you found valuable. it always ended with someone else hurt. and as you continued to water your anger, it became a violent rage; that’s when the physical fights started. altercations that never left you feeling anything other than regretful, like you’d gone too far, but it became a cycle. always throwing the first punch.

track 002:  wstr, hide everything sharp — “goddamn, i am just a human / i seldom see the sun / hate almost everyone.”

you have a hard time finding anything positive in even the best situations; it’s almost like you walk through life with figurative sunglasses on, always blocking the sunshine. it doesn’t help that you turn down almost every offer of kindness you receive. you have a tendency to see the worst in people, but the reason you see the worst is because you won’t let them show you their best. if you only opened your eyes, maybe you would finally realize that nothing is as dark as you think it is.

track 003:  bad luck, wish we still talked — “i guess i made you really unhappy / i guess i know i overreacted.”

when you let yourself have the time to think about it, you do regret the things that you’ve done. especially the things that involved hurting feelings of people who never did you any wrong, even when you deserved it. but even though you acknowledge that you’re in the wrong, it’s difficult for you to accept it, and even more difficult to bring yourself to apologize. and so you simply don’t; you wallow silently in your regret.

track 004:  basement, aquasun — “dive into me / i’ll meet you on the water there someday.”

you don’t know exactly who you are just yet. twenty years of being compared to your brother has left you without a proper identity, and it sounds bad, but maybe it’s not; because uncertainty means that there must be more to you than your rage. you’ve never been as much of a lone wolf as you claim to be, and you do want people to take a risk on you, but with where you’re at in life, you can’t guarantee that they’ll like what they find, and you can’t really even guarantee that you’ll be able to meet them halfway.

track 005:  hot mulligan, something about a bunch of dead dogs — “every decision that i make is making it harder to sleep / if you want peace, you will find nothing in me.”

* tw for mentions of death and anxiety in the lyrics of this song.

you’re turbulent. there’s not a single thing about you that feels safe or calm—not to you, and certainly not to anyone around you. most of the decisions that you make are made on impulse, designed to get some fleeting sense of comfort, but it hardly ever works in your ( or anyone else’s ) favor. you may never feel calm again.

track 006:  free throw, hey ken, someone (...) — “i never should have said a goddamn thing / i should have kept my fucking mouth shut.”

there’s an immediate regret that follows every word that you speak, whether it’s positive or negative. you regret sounding too vulnerable, you regret sounding too abrasive, you regret letting people know how much they mean to you, you regret never speaking up about how much you care, you regret the petty insults, you regret the words of gratitude. maybe you should just never speak again, but then you’d regret your thoughts.

track 007:  the story so far, swords and pens — “and it shakes every fucking bone / trying to do the right thing on my own.”

you were good before, and you can be good again; you’re a little lost right now, though. you took the wrong path a few too many times, and after so long, you grew accustomed to the obstacles and thorns. you became comfortable with anger, with hate, and now those are the two primary things in your life.

track 008:  joyce manor, constant headache — “and then you finally found me, pretending to sleep / you said such nice things about me, i felt guilty and cheap.”

sometimes, you wish that you had something you could blame all of your bad decisions on. something that makes sense. but the truth is that most of your bad decisions are completely intentional, right down to the people you hurt. you only see the worst in yourself and you’re used to other people only seeing the worst, too; so when someone finally sees the light, it should make you feel good, but it doesn’t. it only makes you feel worse.

track 009:  sorority noise, blonde hair, black lungs — “as i watched you walk away / i felt something in me change / my heart froze over, all emotion dripped away.”

you say that you hate your brother and you might even believe it, but you don’t. if you hated him, then you wouldn’t still cling onto every word he speaks about you to his fans, you wouldn’t dig almost obsessively to find proof that he hates you. you still love your brother just as much as you did when you were just a little kid, but you feel abandoned. you’ve felt abandoned by him since you were thirteen, and you’ve never confronted him about it, so you’ve never been proved wrong. years of feeling this way have changed you.

track 010:  the story so far, playing the victim — “said this will kill you if you let it, somehow i forget / i should be asleep, i shouldn’t be upset.”

you think too much. you especially think too much about the things that you claim not to care about, and you can’t even talk about it because everyone thinks you don’t give a fuck. your pride will never let you admit that you do. there are memories, thoughts and regrets that eat away at your mind and your heart while you lie awake in bed, eyes burning with exhaustion. there are too many things piling up on your shoulders.

[preface2adreamplay]

Under Your Spell (Part 5) - A Heat You’ve Never Known

Summary: A Jared Padalecki/OFC fiction.

Stef is a musician, recently gone solo. Happy with her life as a forever single person until Jared makes it his mission to get close to her. (For the purpose of this fiction, I have liberated some lyrics from various artists and their videos. This is fiction, with real people mentioned.)

Chapter warnings: Flirting, swearing

Chapter WC: 2,725

Series Masterlist

Claire: 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻

Stef: Glad you enjoyed yourself.

Claire: I’m having coffee, wanna join? Must gossip.

Stef: Nah, gotta get rid of the moose.

Claire: WTF?

Stef: Jared stayed in the spare room. I think he’s still sleeping.

Claire: We definitely need to talk. 😉

Stef: I’ll call you later

Stef was sitting on the sofa, feet tucked under a blanket sipping coffee. She had spent a few minutes in front of the mirror fixing her hair, moving it this way and that in an attempt to make it look ‘effortless.’

Shrugging, she gave up and made a pot of coffee, hoping the smell would rouse Jared so she wouldn’t have to go knocking at the door.

Just as she sent the last text to Claire, she heard movement upstairs. The bathroom door closed. Silence again.

Brendan raised his head from the armchair he was snoozing on and deciding it was nothing interesting, curled up again.

‘Good morning,’ Jared rumbled coming down the stairs, fully dressed, looking like an angel fallen from heaven, scratching his tummy as he gave her a lop sided smile.

‘Coffee in the kitchen.’ She sang, unusually chipper.

‘Are you always this good a morning person?’ He sat next to her on the sofa, coffee in hand.

‘Well, no. Not usually. But it has been a long time since I had company in the morning so I suppose that has made a difference. Did you sleep ok?’

‘Yeah, I did, I was out like a light.’ Throwing an arm along the back of the sofa, his hand brushed against her hair, giving a strand a playful tug.

His phone rang. With a grumble he removed himself from the sofa and walked towards the kitchen. Stef could hear him speaking low to someone, his tone changing when she heard the sound of a child yelling. ‘Hey, buddy, can you do what your mom says? Please? Yeah I’ll be home soon, before you know it.’

Stef felt uneasy, like worms were squirming inside of her stomach. She hated that he made her feel like this, a little jealous of his family. 

You know him nearly a week, stop being such a crazy bitch! Stef told herself, lifting her phone to text Claire again.

I can meet you at yours later, I need wine and girl chats.

Jared walked silently back into the room, ‘Sorry about that. My kids are wild today,’ He ran a hand through is hair, grimacing.

‘I feel your pain. Wait til they are teenagers, then the fun starts.’

Jared put his head into his hands, ‘No, Stef. What have I DONE?’

Having regaled him with a few stories of Darius in his teens, Jared finally decided that he needed to get going. His flight home was leaving that night and he hadn’t packed yet.

Leaning against the door, waiting for the Uber to find the house he searched for something to say that would be a meaningful goodbye.

Stef sat on the bottom stair, wrapped up in an oversized hoodie looking cute as hell. He wanted to reach over and pull her into a bear hug. All he could do was sigh.

‘This week has been amazing, from not knowing you at all to this.’ He shook his head, strands of hair falling into his eyes. ‘It’s just…’

‘It feels like we have known each other years rather than days?’ She finished for him.

‘Yeah, something like that. You better keep in touch though.’

The car pulled up outside and honked impatiently. ‘Oh shit,’ Jared laughed, reaching over with one arm to pull her into a gentle hug. He took the opportunity to smell her hair.  Coconuts. Mmmm.

‘Jared?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Are you smelling me?’

‘Yeah, I am. Just let us have this moment.’

She felt the rumble of laughter in his chest but didn’t let him go as she usually would have, hugs shouldn’t last this long, this was an embrace and the heat radiating from him filled her to the brim, she hugged him tighter.

Another impatient honk brought them to their senses.

‘You just let me know when you get home safe.’ Stef waved as he made his way down the path. He turned and nodded, lifting his hand in goodbye.

When the car disappeared, she felt heavy hearted.

Claire had text back, agreeing to their girly date. Stef decided to have a long, very hot bath and not think about men or music or the ache in her legs from dancing.

***

‘Tell me everything.’ Claire coaxed, filling the wine glasses with an absurdly large measure.

‘No, you first. Since my night wasn’t half as interesting as yours, I’m guessing.’

Claire talked non stop for a twenty minutes about Richard and how good a kisser he was. They didn’t go all the way, but he said he would call and arrange a date. Which was unusual for Claire, who didn’t date.

This whole situation was unusual for both of them. Claire would get excited about a man, sleep with him and move on.

Stef didn’t date at all. She was happy being single. Sure, men came in and out of her life but she never gave much effort in it. It wasn’t a priority. So why was she glancing at her phone every few minutes, like a love sick teenager, hoping the boy will text her??

‘You gotta tell me about your night, he went home with you?’ Claire waggled her eyebrows at her friend.

‘Not for sex, Claire. He wanted to make sure I got home ok. Then he ended up staying. It was late,’ she playfully nudged Claire’s arm, ‘There was absolutely no funny business.’

‘Only you could call it funny business and not come across as a prude. I KNOW what you like in the bedroom.’

Stef scoffed, feigning surprise. ‘Oh, do you?’

‘Because I suggested half of the shit you do.’

They fell into a fit of giggles. For the rest of the night they drank wine and made fun the cheap horror movies they were so obsessed with. Eventually falling asleep together on the sofa.

Stef woke with a groan. ‘Don’t drink three nights in a row,’ she said to the sleeping figure of her friend.

Her phone was ringing.

‘Oscar.’ She croaked.

‘Oh dear, not again.’ He laughed. ‘Were you up to no good last night Ms. James?’

Stef scoffed, ‘Actually, no. Or maybe I was. I’m with Claire. We passed out on the sofa.’ Moving into the back yard, she pulled the door closed behind her. It was hot, even with it being early, the birds were chirping, a little too loudly she thought.

‘Well then yes you were up to no good.’

‘I was out with Claire two nights in a row.’

‘For shame, Effie, for shame!’

Stef laughed. ‘To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?’

Oscar cleared his throat, ‘Hold on a sec.’ There was a female voice in the background.

Stef raised her eyebrows, her lips curling into a half smile.

‘Who’s that?’ she asked, hearing Oscar moving back to the mouthpiece.

‘Someone I work with.’

‘Suuuuuure,’ Stef drew out, she had missed teasing him, it had been a while since they had been together face to face.

‘Hey, I’m looking forward to the weekend. You sticking around after the party?’

‘Of course, why wouldn’t I?’

‘Just in case you and mystery lady want to head off to a rodeo.’

‘Oh fuck off, Effie. And hey, I was worried about you, that’s why I called.’

‘Why were you worried about me?’

‘Well, I did send you a few messages, the first you ignored and the second you didn’t even look at.’

‘Oops.’ Was all Stef could say. ‘I didn’t mean to ignore you, I’ve just been busy. Socialising.’

‘I’m happy you’re getting out more. You need to loosen up a bit. You’re getting antsy. And angsty. It’s not good for you to cut yourself off from everyone.’

Stef scowled, she knew he was right but didn’t want to let him know he was right.

‘I gotta go. Thanks for the call. We still ok for Friday? My flight comes in at 8pm.’

‘I’ll be there.’ He assured her before ending the call.

Stef took a long breath and closed her eyes. She was shaking. Either from the hangover or the thoughts of Oscar worrying about her. He did that. Only he could see when she was slipping and always, always, he pulled her back from the depths. Always him. No one else.

After twenty two years, he was still there supporting her, always her cheerleader. It made her sad that she couldn’t move past their trouble, she wouldn’t forgive herself if she forgave him, that was part of the problem. Could she ever trust him again? It was a question she asked herself often, every time they got a little closer, she would pull back and he would feel it and be hurt by it. And the cycle started again. And she didn’t know how to break it.

Frustrated now as well as hungover, Stef huffed and dragged her hair back out of her face, holding it back a little tighter than she should but the sting of it was easing the tension. 

It was there that Claire found her, sitting on the porch steps in the sunshine, breathing softly, eyes closed.

‘You good, girl?’

Claire looked worse than Stef felt. Her make up was a mess.

‘You look terrible.’

‘Well, so do you, bitch.’

Hours later, as Stef sat with her guitar in her lap, plucking the strings, the chords not coming together. But she kept at it. It was therapy for her. She needed to get this song out of her and move on.

Her phone dinged.

Jared: I got home ok. Hope you’re good.

It wasn’t as warm a text as she had hoped for. But, you can never really read someones tone from a text.

Just as she was putting the phone down, another text came through.

Don’t say hi to Brendan. 👀👎🏻

Stef spluttered. ‘Damn, he hates you buddy.’

Brendan didn’t bother lifting his head.

Happy you got home ok. Brendan says he will work on his issues.

She wished she could have him sitting across from her while she strummed the tune she had written purely because of him.

It was catchy, so far she was proud of it. Definitely going on the next album. She placed a star beside the title in her notepad.

Opening the recording feature on her laptop, she sang the opening verse and chorus, with the bare minimum of guitar behind it. It would do. That way she wouldn’t forget how she wanted it to sound.

Jared: I’m open to a reconciliation. 

Taking the opportunity to be a little spontaneous. Stef opened the front camera on her phone, grabbing Brendan and snapping a picture before he could react.

The selfie turned out great, she was smiling, he looked surprised.

Sent.

A moment later a picture came through, taking a little too long to download.

A close up shot of Jared, wearing his beanie (of course) his hand cupping his chin, smiling into the camera.

Her stomach did a flip. ‘Why is he so beautiful?’

Brendan, annoyed at having been manhandled, made his way out of the room.

’Tell me why, Brendan? Why is this my life?’

Her phone rang. ‘Oh,’ was all she could say, seeing the video call option popping up on screen.

Panic answering, she had no time to fix herself.

‘You scared him, he’s run away.’ Stef rambled.

Jared was in the same position as his selfie, smiling into the camera.

‘Never mind that guy. How are you?’

Stef flicked her hair over her shoulder, pulling at her shirt nervously.

‘Writing.’  

‘Is that a state of being for you?’ His eyes crinkling as she smile grew wider.

Stef mirrored Jared by leaning her chin into her hand.

‘My apologies, I am well. Tired, having spent an evening with Claire again. And you?’

‘Two nights in a row, you party animal. My family have gone to bed. I’m sitting here alone missing my new friend.’

Stef felt herself blush and felt the heat ignite in her belly at the way he was looking at her.

‘Cute pictures of you two from the party by the way,’ he was leaning back on the sofa now, laying flat and getting comfortable.

‘Oh god, what pictures?’ Mild panic taking over.

‘You were tagged on instagram. Looks like some bathroom selfies,’ he chuckled watching her cover her face and groan.

’That girl is going to put up the wrong picture of these days and get me into trouble. Hey wait, how did you know I was tagged in a photo. I didn’t even get a notification.’

‘It came up about two seconds before I called you. And I follow you on instagram, have done for a while actually.’

Stef bit her lip, realising she hadn’t actually followed him, just stalked his page a few days back.

‘Hey, I gotta ask, does your wife mind you calling me like this?’

The smile fell from his face a little. ‘Probably, I have told her we became friends after the video shoot. I know she’d like you, we’re just, uh, going through a bad time right now. Nothing that we can’t fix though,’ he added, seeing concern on her face.

‘It’s all good. We’ll get you down here for a Texas barbecue and you can hang with us and Jensen and his family. It’ll be fun. And your son too. I’d love to meet him. Is he like you or his dad?’

The awkwardness was gone from the conversation now as he saw her face light up at the mention of Darius.

‘He is like his dad, dark and handsome. Quite a bit taller though, nearly six foot. Not nearly as tall as you though.’

‘No one is, don’t worry.’ Jared teased.

‘Personality wise, he is like me. He’s reserved, not a bit interested in the fame his father has.’

Jared raised his eyebrows, ‘So, baby daddy is famous?’

Stef considered the fact that Jared didn’t know her all that well, ‘Yeah. We keep our private lives private. We didn’t want Dar growing up with a public life. We didn’t think it was fair to him. But, he’s a man now, he can decide whether or not he wants to go to events with his dad.’

The temptation was too much, Jared had to ask. ‘So, who is baby daddy? Anyone I know?’

Stef giggled, ‘Actually you probably do know him, Oscar Isaac.’

‘Whaaaaat? Oh man, you know I love Star Wars!’ He gushed.

Stef fell into a fit of giggles, ’Oh shit, I gotta tell him Jared Padalecki is fangirling over him.’

‘Well, this is amazing, my new best girl’s baby daddy is Poe Dameron!’

Stef stuttered ‘uh, ok your ‘new best girl’s’ baby daddy is not a fictional character from Star Wars.’

‘Oh come on! I already knew you were cool. I just like you twenty thousand times more now.’

The conversation continued in that manner, both giggling at each other until Stef said she had to get to bed. A proper nights sleep was high on her list.

Before hanging up, Jared held up a hand to get her full attention. ‘Just promise me, you will call me during the week and play that new song for me.’

’A private viewing?’ Stef said, stroking the neck of her guitar.

The look on his face had a rush of heat pool in her core. Inwardly, she groaned as he winked, ‘I am up for any kind of show you want to give me.’

He bit his lip straight after. Stef opened her mouth in pretend shock. ‘It would just be me,’ she lowered her voice. Jared cocked an eyebrow at her.

‘Poe Dameron doesn’t do cam shows.’

Jared groaned loudly, covering his face with his hand.

He went to bed that night and lay awake staring at the ceiling, thoughts of Stef wouldn’t leave him alone, the guilt he felt was immense. He wanted her, there was no question. Did she want him?

Reaching over, he touched his wife's shoulder, finding she was easily roused. She couldn’t sleep either.

‘Baby, we gotta talk.’

CHAPTER SIX