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jimlingss · 6 years

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Jungle Park [5]

Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6

➜ Words: 4.3k

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

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

➜ Warnings: swearing and taxi passengers slut shaming and being general assholes.

It’s too hard to stay awake. It’s...too—…...difficult….. “Y/N?” You’re shaken awake by someone’s hand coming to gently squeeze your shoulder. Immediately, you jolt back to life, looking around to find yourself in the office. Right. “Are you alright?” Sunyi comes back into focus and you realize Hyuk and Lisa are already looking at you, watching your face as if you have a spider on your forehead and they don’t want to scare it away. “What? Oh, sorry. I was...um...distracted for a second there. What did you say?” You can tell she doesn’t quite believe you, but the lawyer doesn’t push it either. “A bunch of us are going to dinner tonight. We were wondering if you wanted to join us?” “Dinner?” This is the moment you’ve been waiting for. It’s what you’ve always wanted. To finally be a part of the group, catch late night drinks or eat food, to actually befriend these people beyond the workplace setting. “I would love to….but...tonight?” Of all nights. Why tonight? “You can’t make it?” “I...already have plans.” It hurts so bad — it’s like you’re a kid who’s been waiting for your birthday for months and on the day of, it turns out you can’t even attend your own party because of a dentist appointment. “Aw.” Hyuk hangs his head and pouts, eyes flickering down the expanse of your body quicker than you can even register. “What a shame, thought I’d be able to finally get to know you.” “I’m sorry. I should’ve known.” Maybe it looks like you’re about to burst into tears, because then Sunyi smiles softly. “No, it’s okay. How could you have known? There’ll be plenty of other times. How about lunch tomorrow?” “Lunch?” There’s a tone of hope and eagerness in your voice and you know you’re being pretty childish and pathetic, but you’re too exhausted to put on a more professional façade. “That works for me. I’ll clear up my schedule.” “Alright.” Sunyi grins. “Tomorrow, a bunch of us can gather up for lunch.” You smile, nodding your head. “Sounds good.” A handful of people from the office begin to file out at five o’clock. You bid them a goodbye and goodnight. But someone else lingers behind and she seems to hesitate. “Hey, Y/N.” Lisa stands to the side and you wonder if anything’s wrong — ironic considering her next question is addressed to you. “Are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine,” you reassure her with your lips upturned. The receptionist nods. “Okay. Goodnight then.” “Bye.” You watch as she catches up with the group, slightly touched that she shows concern for your well-being. Though, the question lingers in your head — ARE you okay? If you’re completely frank with yourself, you’re not sure. On the way home, you accidentally fall asleep on the subway. Your head bobs up and down and ends up on the shoulder of a granny and you apologize profusely, nearly hurting your neck when you try to use your own shoulder as support. Then once you make it home, you fall on the couch to take a two hour nap. A symphony of blaring alarms is what you wake up to. After, you force yourself to get up, you wash your face, eat something quick, have a cup of coffee… Then…. “Hello!” You twist around to face the backseat with a bright smile. “Where are you off to tonight?” “The Kelpers Club on seventh avenue,” one of the three guys say and you nod, pulling off the curb and into the road. “Oh, fuck!” The dude from the left seat startles you, but when you glance at the rear-view mirror, thankfully he’s not talking to you. He’s staring at the screen of his phone and his friends are glancing over. “Look what Tiffany just sent me.” “Holy shit!” They reach over to punch the guy in the arm, laughing and grinning. They’re a rowdy and obnoxious bunch, but you try your best to keep focus on the road ahead of you. “Dude, you need to send me that. I could probably rub three or four out with that hot pic.” They each have a water bottle with them, taking sips every so often and by the smell of their breaths that waft over to ruin your breathing space, you’re almost certain that it isn’t water they have in there. “Did you really tap that last night?” “Yeah.” He smirks. “She keeps on texting me though. It’s so fucking annoying. Clingy bitch. It’s no wonder her boyfriend of four years cheated on her with her best friend. And she thinks we’re an exclusive item just cause I took her out once. What a joke. She’s desperate and a mess.” Your left eye twitches and you run the yellow light that you normally would’ve slowed down at. The dude in the center laughs. “But c’mon, how is she? How does she take it?” The other lets out a snort and rolls his shoulder. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you. She’s a freak. She wanted me to slap and spank her. The skank choked on me like five times and even took it in the ass.” “Holy shit!” They’re in an uproar, piercing sound of their chortles deafening to your ears. They punch him again, saying things like he’s a lucky bastard and what they would give to be in that position. But what’s the absolutely last straw for you is— “You could probably get it in if you want. I bet she’d like taking two or three cocks at once too. Tiffany is a massive slut.” They roar and howl like animals in heat and one of them opens their mouth to add a comment, but you floor the gas on an empty street and their bodies lurch forward. “Do you want me to change the radio?” you interrupt before anything else can be said and before your blood pressure spikes more than it has. “No. It’s fine.” They catch themselves when you stop at a red light. “Do you want me to turn on the heating or air conditioning?” “We’re fine,” one of them grunts out in annoyance. You ignore him and slam off the air conditioning, rolling all the windows up to seal shut and hitting the heating button. It begins to blast, though you don’t mind if you get too warm. It’s much too rewarding to look at the rear-view mirror and see all three guys squished up against each other, extremely hot and uncomfortable, hair becoming wet with sweat. You hope their vodka gets too warm and stale to drink. “I’m having trouble finding the destination,” you lie without blinking twice. You loop around and around the blocks, purposely driving over the manholes at full speed and enjoying how the car launches slightly at every bump and they hit their heads on the roof of the small vehicle. “It’s the left!” “Left or right?” You feign innocence and stupidity as if you don’t understand basic directions. “Which one?!” “Left!” He shouts. You twist your wrist roughly, swerving the steering wheel to the right. “Oops!” “What the hell?!” They’re in disbelief and you kill fifteen minutes, going all over the blocks and taking wrong turns, somehow even ending in the suburban area. When you’re satisfied with messing with them, you pull up on the curb...in the middle of nowhere. “Whelp, we’re here.” You turn around with a blazing smile and their jaws are dropped, brows furrowed, finding the situation completely absurd. “It’s just down the block.” More like down thirty blocks. “The traffic is too much to get close. Sorry ‘bout that.” “There’s no traffic,” one of them says, but you ignore them and they pull out their wallets to split the fare. They get out one by one with deep scowls, slamming the car doors shut, hard enough to damage your precious taxi. Before closing the last door, one of them pops their head through and mutters something you hear loud and clear, “dumb bitch.” You end up driving directly into a mud puddle, splashing them in the brown slush and making it look like they collectively shat in their pants. You cackle as you pull off into the street again. They didn’t even tip you. “Hello. Where are you off to tonight?” “The airport, please.” “Certainly.” It’s not like you’re passionate about taxi driving. You specifically sought out the HR position to leave this behind, to actually chase after what you want. But here you are, crawling back to your old career and balancing between your day and night job. Even though Hoseok declared a truce between the two of you, you still can’t get rid of the feeling that he might fire you one day. You wouldn’t know what to do if one day you’re seated on the other side of the conference table with Jimin and Hoseok across from you, delivering the news that you’re not needed anymore. You wouldn’t know what to do if you’re thrown off on the street without a job. You wouldn’t be able to pay your bills. You wouldn’t be able to pay for food. More importantly, you would have to move back with your mom. The nightmare haunts you. And you still have the lease on the cab. It’s been sitting in your apartment parking spot — might as well use it, right? At the end of the night, you get another wad of cash that goes directly into your savings. Doing this is better than sitting at home and worrying about your future, mindlessly watching television and surfing the internet, walking around, and….sleeping. A little bit of sleep sacrificed isn’t a big deal. Your eight-hours of sleep is merely split up throughout the day — naps taken on the subway to and from the firm, a two hour slumber before taking the taxi night-shift, another four hours afterwards before heading to the office. Occasionally, you might doze off in your office too, but no one really notices when you turn your chair towards the window and it seems like you’re staring out at the cityline. Thankfully, Hoseok hasn’t noticed either. “Excuse me?” The girl in the backseat stirs awake from her drowsiness, looking out the window. “I think we’re here.” “Oh, sorry. I was thinking about someone—......I mean something. I was thinking about something.” You scramble with a laugh, parking the car and getting out to help with the passenger’s luggage in the trunk. She doesn’t seem that upset with you, even smiling and thanking you for the ride, tipping you a decent five dollars. Things aren’t too bad. “Aren’t you driving too slow?” A middle age woman impatiently quacks in the backseat of your car, pushing herself up closer to you. “Can’t you go faster?” “Uh...I’ll try my best.” Really, things aren’t too horrible. …. It could be worse. // The only thing you’re looking forward to is lunch. When you wake up in the morning, you’re already buzzing with excitement. As pathetic as it is, you can’t remember the last time you shared a meal with other people. If things go well, then people in the office will really begin to get comfortable with you and maybe you’ll have a few workplace friends that will become your friends out of work too. You’re excited, and you hope it doesn’t show too much. “Hey, ready for lunch today?” Sunyi has popped into your office first thing in the morning with a smile. “You didn’t forget, did you?” “Of course I didn’t,” you laugh. “Good. We’re going down the block to that italian restaurant. They have a really good lunch menu, cheesesteak and sandwiches and soups too.” “That sounds great,” your cheeks are almost bursting with your smile. “Who’s coming along with us?” “You and I obviously,” she jests in a light tone. “And also Seulgi, Namjoon, Hoseok and unfortunately, the leech freeloader Min Yoongi. Trust me, I didn’t want him to join, but he self invited himself like the asshole that he is. He invited himself and Hoseok. I knew I shouldn’t have talked about it with Seulgi when we were all in the elevator earlier...” You stifle back a laugh. “That’s completely fine.” “Alright, see you later then.” The woman sighs and checks her phone briefly. “Gotta get some work done before we run on out.” Your head nods once and she’s on her way. // For the first hour, you focus on running through more applications and looking for a suitable paralegal. There still hasn’t been anyone hired to fill Sebin’s position, but there’s not too big of a rush. Hoseok would rather you take your time to go through and choose carefully, rather than picking someone right off the bat. Plus, he’s also told you that things are actually running fairly well with the three paralegals already on the team, smoother than he expected. You make a few phone calls, setting up interview dates and times. But then someone stops by your office. “Hey,” Namjoon greets you and before you can ask if he needs any help, he beats you to the punch. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m helping Jimin with mediation. The client re-booked it at twelve thirty, so I don’t think I can go later.” “No, it’s okay. Work takes priority anyways,” you wave him off and he smiles, promising he’ll make time some other day for lunch. Not another twenty minutes pass by before you find yet another person standing at your doorway, balancing a huge mountain of files. “Are you alright?” “I don’t know,” Seulgi admits in all honesty and looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “I just remembered I forgot to submit the affidavits and orders yesterday that were given to me by Jungkook and I think Hoseok’s going to fire the both of us if it’s not in submission. I’m helping him and we both have to run down there and I don’t know how long it’s going to take or if it’s even possible at this point—” “Seulgi,” you call her name calmly to reassure the girl. “It’s okay.” “I’m so, so sorry. Can I ask for a rain check?” “Of course you can. I’m always free.” By eleven o’clock, a full hour before the designated time, there’s another person at your door. This time, it’s a shorter man with full cheeks and messy black hair. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, barely able to keep them open. But when he looks at you and you look at him, it’s like a telepathic message is sent. “Can’t make it?” “Yeah,” Min Yoongi responds in a husky tone as if he just got up from a nap, but plans to take another. “It’s okay.” But is it? — Really. — Is this okay? There’s nothing you can really do even if all your insides are crying. What? Should you just drop to the ground and start crying? You’re going to need at least five shots before you throw a temper tantrum at your workplace. Things get busy, life gets busy, people get busy. You’re more than understanding and it’s just lunch. There will be plenty more opportunities to come. So… “It’s fine,” you reassure the lawyer in front of you who has her bottom lip quivering and her brows furrowed deep enough you’re certain that wrinkles will permanently mar her skin. “I’m so, so sorry. I know you were looking forward to this. I just had no idea that my schedule was already booked up with a client. I….I could change it and we can still go out—” “Don’t be ridiculous.” You laugh, thankful that she’s worried this much over it. At least it’s better than the times in High School where people invited you out and didn’t even show up because ‘it’s just a prank, bro’. Your hand goes to gently squeeze Sunyi’s shoulder, channeling your maternal voice that doesn’t really exist to soothe her. “We can do this some other day. I’m gonna be around for a long time, so there will be plenty more opportunities. Just focus on work since that’s what you’re here to do anyways. It’s really not that big of a deal.” “Okay, thank you,” Sunyi breathes a long sigh of relief, happy that you didn’t take the unfortunate circumstances to heart. Little does she know just how disappointed you are. Reminds you of that time your mom promised you to go to Disneyland and you ended up Chuck E. Cheese instead. // At twelve o’clock sharp, Hoseok appears at your door with his phone in hand. You stare at him, waiting for him to say something as he stares at the screen and his thumbs move, probably texting someone important. It’s an awkward thirty seconds that feel like a whole two minutes before he puts down the device and looks at you. He frowns and takes a peek out your door. “Is there no one else?” “No.” You scratch the back of your neck before putting your palms in your lap. “Everyone is busy.” It’s only you and him. You’re not sure how you feel about that; maybe partly tense and apprehensive while the other part doesn’t mind so much. “Okay.” Hoseok shrugs nonchalantly, hands in his coat pockets. “There’s no point in going then.” “Oh...yeah…” You stand up awkwardly, trying to shuffle past him. Your stomach makes a noise that doesn’t sound too healthy and you hope he can’t hear it. “I’ll uh...I’ll just grab something from the kitchen then.” “Wait.” He stops you, grabbing your wrist before you can run off. When he realizes he’s touched you without permission, he lets go right away, mumbling some kind of apology before you tell him it’s fine. “You didn’t bring anything with you?” He asks and you don’t answer. Jung Hoseok must read your expression like an open book because then he smiles slightly. “Okay, nevermind, let’s go.” “Pardon?” “Just the two of us,” he says and walks off, making you stumble behind him and try to match his wide, fast strides. The lawyer glances over his shoulder towards you. “You don’t mind right?” “I...I don’t mind.” Except a one-on-one lunch with your boss is not what you envisioned. Instead of the fancy italian cafe, you follow his lead into a hole-in-the-wall. It’s a warm and cozy atmosphere, with two or three other tables full. Interestingly enough, they serve comfort food and the menu is deprived of a variety of different cultures. You end making an order of porridge with a side of mac and cheese and he orders curry with cold noodles. It’s served quickly and all at the same time, so you don’t hesitate to dig in. The only problem is when silence settles down, you’re not sure what to say. You’re not even sure where to look. Glancing up and locking your eyes with his only makes it more excruciatingly awkward. “You know, I already told you that you don’t have to tiptoe around me,” Hoseok mutters and takes a large bite, looking up at you with his arm propped up on the table, holding a spoon and completely amused as he gawks at you. “What?” “You’re always stiff and nervous around me. But I won’t bite your head off…….probably.” “I’m not nervous,” you defend yourself even when it’s a massive lie. Hoseok laughs and almost chokes on his food. “Yeah, you are. Your eyes keep shifting and I can see that you’re beginning to sweat. You know…” He leans closer like he’s about to exchange a secret. “...makes it seem like you did something wrong or you’re a criminal. Last I checked, I’m not a criminal attorney, so I’m not sure I can help you if you did something illegal.” You take a spoonful of the porridge, letting the taste linger on your tongue for a second before you stuff your cheek to chew a bit and swallow it down. “The only illegal thing I’ve one is steal someone’s wifi and probably jaywalking.” “Wait, I should record this confession for evidence,” he teases with a mischievous glint in his eyes and a massive grin. You wonder if the other people at this office know this side of him. “These are very serious crimes. How many times have you jaywalked and who’s wifi have you stolen?” “Oh please.” You roll your eyes. “You act like you haven’t done anything ‘illegal’ either.” He scoffs at how you use air quotations with your fingers, also slightly offended. “Just letting you know, I live a very morally upright life. I don’t break the law. I work for the law. In fact, I am the law.” “Yeah, right.” You click your tongue in feigned annoyance, muffling back some laughter. “What about that time you were drunk and passed out in front of the library? Made me have to drag you back. That’s public intoxication.” “I did what?” Your eyes go wide. Right. He doesn’t remember. You might’ve gotten too carried away, too caught up when he’s sitting right across from you, and it’s only you and him. But there’s no going back now, you might as well mess with him. “Or that time you shoplifted an entire refrigerator. And that time you started a pimp business to pay off your loans. Those were the days, right, Hoseok?” “No way.” He leans back and crosses his arms, trying to repress his laughter that threatens to spill over. “I would never. That’s something I can’t believe. You need to come up with more reasonable lies than that, Y/N.” Your food is left abandoned when you’re trying hard not to break into hysterical laughter. “So you believe how you wanted to piss in a library book, but ended up passing out in front of the library instead?” There’s a long held silence. “That…..I can believe.” A cheeky grin is plastered on your face, making your jaw ache a bit and you take a few more bites before your pupils flicker up. “Thanks, by the way. Just thought I’d say that.” “For what?” He eats, chewing and swallowing, taking a sip of his water in the process. “This. I mean...you didn’t have to come along with me.” “You make it sound like I’m going to treat you to this.” The lawyer points a fork towards you and narrows his eyes while the corner of his mouth twitches oh so slightly. “Is that your tactic? You think I’m going to pay for your meal?” “No!” You can’t help your giggles. “That’s not what I’m trying to say!” “I can see right through you.” He has a playful smile and eyes you. The glare is less sharp and pointed, lacking real animosity or frustration. It’s much cuter and the stark contrast from him outside and joking around to his professionalism in the office nearly gives you whiplash. “I saw your photo on the firm’s website.” It’s a little out of nowhere, but the thought pops into your head as you stare at the man. “And no offence, but you look way better in real life. You’re not photogenic at all.” “Is that an insult?” Jung Hoseok gasps theatrically and you wonder why he didn’t just major in drama and become a comedic actor. He seems to have a knack for it. “It’s not!” “Or are you trying to say I’m handsome?” He puts down his utensil and nods. “Oh, I see. You don’t want me to pay for your meal. Thinking big picture, huh? You’re trying to say I’m a lot more handsome in real life because you want a raise, don’t you?!” “I never said that!” At this point, the two of you are so loud that a few patrons are looking over, but none of you notice. He twists your words so much, it’s ridiculous and you’re left baffled and laughing. Maybe it was right for him to be a lawyer after all. “You think I wouldn’t see your strategy.” He scrapes his bowl, eating everything that’s left while mischievously shaking his head in feigned disapproval. “Trying to boost my ego for a raise. How low is that. But what’s even more unbelievable is that it’s working. Keep going.” You laugh again, this time refusing to utter even one syllable or make a sound. Hoseok finishes eating in the meanwhile and you pierce the carrots on your plate, putting it on his clean one. He looks up at you with brows raised. “You hate carrots? I never thought you’d be a picky eater.” “No, I don’t hate it,” you muse. “You like it, don’t you?” If it’s possible, his brows raise even higher. “How did you know?” You shrug, looking away from him. “Let’s just say, I really want that raise.” “Pft.” He pierces the carrot with the fork, inhaling it all at once and chews thoughtfully. “You better not be stalking me.” “I won’t need to if I get a little somethin’-somethin’.” You rub your fingers on one hand together, indicating a thick wad of cash and he grins, eating the carrot happily. A few months ago, if someone told you that one day you’d be sitting across from Hoseok and actually conversing and even laughing like normal adults, you would’ve probably floored the gas pedal of your taxi to get away in fear of that person being absolutely insane. You expected to have lunch with coworkers and perhaps establish friendships out of the workplace. You definitely didn’t think you’d end up rekindling some kind of ancient relationship with your boss. But you don’t mind at all. It’s just more than what you bargained for in the best way possible.

#bts fanfic #hoseok fluff #hoseok fanfic #bts fanfiction #hoseok #BTS JUNG HOSEOK is not 100% an asshole?! *insert surprised pikachu meme*#OC as a full-time HR manager and part-time taxi driver WHO JUST WANTS TO HAVE LUNCH WITH HER FELLOW CO-WORKERS BECAUSE SHE LIKES THEM #BUT GODDAMMIT IS THAT TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR?!

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nomanono · 7 years

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#NaNoWriMo - Day1

Haven’t decided whether to post this to AO3, so you just get it here for now <3

Chris grunted into the stiff hotel pillow as the cock slipped out of his ass. The soft thing dripped into his crack but the last thing he minded was the stickiness. He laid there, groaning his appreciation and gratitude, until it started to get tacky on his skin.

The hotel room wasn’t anything special, but it had scent eaters in the corners and the pheromones wafting from Chris in waves were overwhelming.

“I needed that,” Chris said, tugging two anti-scent tissues and swiping up the mess between his legs.

“I know the feeling.”

Chris snorted. “It feels best after a win, right?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You did better than me.”

“Still.”

Chris took a third tissue, going to the bathroom and settling on the toilet. He pressed out until the cum started to drool into the pot, and when he’d gotten the gloppiest of it out he wiped again. By the time he came back to the room, his partner was dressed, a stack of wadded tissues sitting on the bed.

“I mean it, though,” Chris said, holding out his hand. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t like he normally took new skaters to his bed. But he wasn’t supposed to go into heat for another two weeks, and this off-cycle spike had caught him unawares - and partnerless - just in time for the qualifier. He didn’t have enough warning to get a blocker. He hadn’t even realized it until he caught the eyes of several scenting alphas roaming over him and realized the seat of his pants was damp. That he’d managed to find someone interested in helping him off was a godsend.

“It’s no problem, really,” Yuuri Katsuki assured him, with the same shy blush he’d had when they started. “Really.”

—

“You going to be okay?” Victor asked Chris a week and a half later. Different hotel room. Same starchy sheets and too-thick pillows. They shared Skate Canada this year.

Chris always skated better when he was in a rink with Victor.

“Yeah,” Chris said, tightening around Victor’s knot. “You still tracking my cycle?”

Victor gave him that cheesiest of smiles: “You smell like you’re seconds off. It’s killing me. I don’t need an app for that.”

“Ohhh, I forgot I shared you on mine,” Chris said.

“Yeah. What was with that spike you had? Did you go to a parlor?” Victor asked.

“Parlor? Victor, please.”

“I know, I know, you have alphas barking down your door at all hours,” Victor smirked. “None are prettier than I am, are they?”

“Never,” Chris laughed. He settled down, pulling Victor with him to snuggle while they waited for his knot to recede. He pressed his face into Victor’s neck, breathed in the scent of the only alpha he ever wanted. He nuzzled and snuffed, wishing he could get high on the heady thickness of Victor’s pheromones. “And their knots are smaller, too.”

“I should hope,” Victor snorted. “I feel bad, you know.”

“Yeah I’m sure you really suffer.”

Victor swatted his side, and Chris just groaned, flexing around Victor’s knot again, feeling another flush of heat in his bowels where Victor was filling him with sterile seed. And even if it hadn’t been sterile, Chris’ implant took care of any eggs that might be floating around inside him.

“For you, mon ami, I would,” Victor purred, nipping at Chris’ neck in return. “Tell me he was small and unsatisfying?”

“He was smaller than you,” Chris reassured Victor. “But I didn’t need much. It was just a little flare up. One of the other skaters —“

“Not Leroy!” Victor gasped.

“That beta? No,” Chris snorted. “Oh —!” He gasped as he felt Victor’s knot tug on his hole, threatening to pop out. “Victor, what are you —?”

“I’m bored,” Victor whined, giving another tug.

“This is why I only sleep with you when you’re rutting, or I’m in heat,” Chris grimaced. “Weren’t you just talking about how I smell?”

“Well,” Victor said. “…. Now you smell like me.”

“Oh, god, Victor, did you mark me?!” Chris cursed, grabbing the pillow and throwing it at the silver-haired skater.

“JUST A LITTLE,” Victor leapt to the defense.

Chris groaned. “Dammit, Victor, you’re supposed to tell me before you do that.”

“I’m sorry!” Victor whined. “You just feel so good.”

Chris sighed. It was a losing battle with Victor. Plus, he was looking at Chris through his bangs, beautiful blue eyes and thick batting lashes. Chris pressed his lips together, steeling himself against Nikiforov’s wiles.

“I’ll stay here for your heat,” Victor cooed his apology, his promise. “Fill you up? Knot you every hour? Mark your whole room? You like smelling me, don’t you, when you’re cycling?”

Did he ever. But Chris was still trying to be upset with him. He looked away, crossing his arms over his naked chest. It was remarkable, how difficult it was to stay mad at someone when the inflatable bulb of their dick was locked inside your colon.

“Just because I like smelling you when I’m in heat doesn’t mean I want you to piss in my ass when we’re casually fucking,” Chris glared.

“Sorry,” Victor frowned, and Chris sighed, because now Victor looked legitimately hurt and apologetic.

“It’s fine,” Chris said. He opened up his arms and Victor swam into them - or as much as he could, given his still-lodged cock. “Just tell me next time, OK?”

“OK,” Victor said. “…I’ll stay here for your heat?”

“Yeah,” Chris said, fingers washing through Victor’s hair. “You ready for it?”

Victor snorted. “I’m your stunt-cock. Your on-call Alpha. Your unofficial fuck boi —“

“That’s not what that means,” Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

“What it means,” Victor corrected him, “is that I’ve got your back. Or your ass. You know. I’m there for you.”

They’d been doing this for years now, and it was true.

“Yeah,” Chris smiled at last, squeezing Victor to his chest. “Yeah I know.”

—

The Grand Prix Final was exactly as Chris expected. Victor on the top of the podium, Chris on his right, just beneath him. <I>Just like in bed</i> Victor always used to wink, until Chris said it didn’t sit well with him. Not that he’d want to be beneath anyone else, but for once in all his years he wanted to best Victor Nikiforov - Victor Nikiforov who was still at the top of his game despite being one of the eldest skaters on the roster. Even Chris was starting to feel old, running out of years he could use to get his gold.

Yuuri Katsuki, the man who’d offered to help, had made it to the GPF too, only to tank - and brutally. Chris didn’t even get a chance to talk to him; he bolted before the sweat of his costume was even dry.

No one saw him again until the banquet. Chris and Victor were on the edge of the dance floor when Katsuki sauntered, ever so intoxicated, to the middle. Katsuki smelled like raw omega ass, powerful enough that the few people in the room with noses for pheromones were bug-eyed as he paraded himself. Chris thought it was rude, not to wipe up your scents when you were done - especially if Yuuri had been with someone in heat. But Victor?

Well, Victor could hardly resist Chris normally. And with that scent in the air? They all got pulled into the wonderful drunken madness of it. Yuri Plisetsky suddenly battled against Katsuki, paso doble and tango and bolero, fighting for a chance to win Victor’s tutelage. Victor ate it up, happily fell into follow position, hung on every lop-sided smile Katsuki threw his way.

Not that Chris was going to miss an opportunity to show off, too.

They wound up almost naked, dancing from the poles near the front of the dance floor to Victor’s brilliant smile and heartfelt applause.

They danced, and they danced, and Chris couldn’t remember how it ended, only that he woke up the next day head pounding, with seventeen new texts from Victor Nikiforov.

—

Chris blinked through his messages from Victor

He’s perfect. I’m going to marry him. How does Yuuri Nikiforov sound?

what are you TALKING about, Chris texted back.

Victor sent three blocks of emojis: smilies and hearts and rainbows and Chris just shook his head.

I’m going to marry him, Victor texted.

you slept with him didn’t you

He wasn’t in my bed when I woke up …but I wouldn’t put it past me

“Neither would I,” Chris shook his head - bad mistake - and put his phone down. He had a plane to catch.

Fuck, he had a plane to catch!

By the time he checked his phone again, sometime in the taxi on the way to the Sochi Airport, Victor’s tune had completely changed.

My life is over

OK wait, Chris texted, because it wasn’t like Victor had a flare for the dramatic or anything. What?

He rejected me

Katsuki?

MY FUTURE HUSBAND TO BE YES

well did you fucking propose to him i would have turned you down too

I ASKED HIM FOR A PHOTO

like a dick pic?

A COMMEMORATIVE PHOTO CHRIS

????

He just looked at me like I was speaking Russian I said it again in English just to make sure I hadn’t said it in Russian AND HE JUST WALKED AWAY

ouch

HOLD ME

seriously?

Facetime?

going through security

The next messages were just an endless stream of crying faces. Chris blinked slow and shook his head. Victor Nikiforov, ladies and gentlemen. Chris’ best friend. His stunt cock. And now apparently the future husband of one very disinterested Yuuri Katsuki.

Chris blanched.

Fuck.

He’d accidentally already fucked Victor’s future husband.

Chris visibly winced.

Maybe it was for the best things hadn’t worked out.

—

Victor was insufferable all through Nationals and into the Four Continents. Whining, fretting, texting at all hours of the night.

“Go to a parlor,” Chris said in the lockers. “You need something new for your nose.”

“I’ve tried,” Victor said. The drama was leaking out of him, and the hollowness it left behind was even worse. Chris frowned. He’d never seen Victor look so … old. Tired. Even as he’d aged, Victor had kept a sense of timelessness about him. He was unstoppable. Tireless. Vigorous. Now his eyes were flecked with distance, his body here but his heart somewhere else. “It’s nothing like him.”

“You don’t even know what he’ll smell like when he’s not… like that,” Chris said.

“I don’t need to know,” Victor said.

“You need to get over him,” Chris said. “He said no.”

“He said nothing,” Victor corrected, but instead of his prior, obnoxious optimism now he simply seemed resigned.

“Come on,” Chris zipped up his jacket. “Stop that. It’s over. You’ve got a gold meal to win.”

Victor grimaced like he didn’t care, but he wound up winning gold anyway.

—

Chris didn’t get many texts about Victor’s Future Husband (tm) after that. He told himself it was because Victor was prepping for Worlds, he’d finally seen the light and gotten over it, but in reality it was because Chris didn’t get many texts at all.

rut’s coming up, Chris finally broke the silence.

Yeah

so?

I can go to a parlor

i’ll come to you, Chris texted. you know that right?

Now who’s the fuck boi?

…. that really doesn’t mean what you think it means

It’s okay It’s so close to Worlds I’ll just parlor

you sure?

Yeah. Thanks tho <3

np, and Chris clicked off his phone, only to get a new video notification:

Yuuri Katsuki trying Victor Nikiforov’s free skate

#nanowrimo #yoi fanfic #victuuri #omegaverse

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lizacstuff · 7 years

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7x04 Anons

I have a ton of asks so I’ll answer a few under the cut. A lot of them deal with negativity over the ep and season so be warned and don’t click if you don’t want to read that.

Anonymous said:Liza, have you watched tonight's episode? What did you think of the Rumbelle send off? And of Alice being Roger's daughter?

I had zero emotional reaction to Rumbelle’s story in this episode. None. It’s been too toxic and gross and I have never really cared about it so it didn’t make me feel anything at all. I was curious what they were going to do. Now I know.

As far as Alice being WishHook’s daughter. Eh. So they take the only interesting character and now she’s a fake Wish person too? I just can’t with this nonsense. I’m having a lot of problems with WishHook, so I’m not thrilled she’s tied to his story.

Colin is still hot and an awesome human being and a terrific actor, but the plot... it’s a no for me.

Anonymous said:Sometimes I think Adam and Eddy believe they are the most clever people to ever write, and that everyone else are simple minded peasants. Like that one post-7x04 interview where the interviewer asked if Alice is wish Hook's daughter. "You're very perceptive." Uh, no, Adam and Eddy. You just have all the subtlety of a freight train. You had Alice and Rogers play chess. Wish Hook and his daughter played chess. It's obvious. Don't talk to people like they're stupid for figuring the obvious out.

This show has always been pretty obvious about some things, but they used to pull off some twists. I remember a time when fan speculation was way more wrong than it is right.

However, season 7 is just really obvious in terms of some of the “big twists.” Take Alice being the LGBT character, the entire fandom speculated that from the first second she appeared in shooting spoilers based on stereotypes. I have been hoping it’s not her because of those stereotypes, but nope! They had no surprises up their sleeve with it. Then most people immediately assumed she was Roger’s daughter the second we found out he had one... and apparently no twist there either.

I guess the days of the entire fandom being shocked by finding out Hook is the Dark One and Dark Swan did everything for Hook... are over.

Of course we should have known this reboot lost all subtlety in the second episode when everyone and their mother kept asking Henry if he was in love with the random woman he just met.

Anonymous said:I know the promo pics didn't spell anything good for Belle, but I'm still surprised that they actually had her die. I kept thinking that there would be some twist to it.

As I was just saying... no twists, no turns. It’s exactly as everyone predicted.

Anonymous said:I didn't watch the ep, but shit Henry and ivy have so much more chemistry than the other girl. Cinderella I think lol damn talk about epic romance also I saw comments that also agree with the Henry and ivy

If you haven’t watched how do you know they have more chemistry? Seriously, that’s kind of ridiculous. What are you basing that on?

Anonymous said:ouat is a weird show, it requires you to pay really pay attention but not to close of attention or you will notice all the plot holes

100% accurate. This reboot is creating so many more plot holes with all the magic mcguffins that are suddenly in play. I guess you either have to accept it and go along for the ride, or recognize it for what it is.

Anonymous said:hey liza, who are your favourite characters from the new cast? some of them don’t really impress me but i quite like ivy and tilly.

Both of those characters have some interesting aspects to them. It may have a lot to do with the performers. I haven’t been impressed with Gabriel, Dania or Mekia’s choices so far, but Adelaide and Rose have interesting screen presence.

Anonymous said:Drizella really is a Mean Girls version of Regina. I'm between finding her general attitude annoying and finding her somewhat sympathetic considering she has to deal with Tremaine all day.

You mean Regina when she was a girl and under Cora’s thumb? I could see that comparison. Lets hope Drizella doesn’t follow in Regina’s footsteps and become the mass murdering rapist in town.

Anonymous said:Did Rumbelle build the house in Storybrooke?

Um... I’m not sure I understand this question. In the show I believe that Up-inspired cabin where they were living isolated from everything and everyone else (do people really find that a happy ending?) was in the edge of realms.

Anonymous said:I'm almost mad that we got to see more of Belle and Rumple's story than we did of Captain Swan. We all know they are living their happy ending but it would still be wonderful to see a little clip of Emma sitting on the beach with their daughter waiting for Killian to show up and join their picnic. Just some good ole domestic Captain Swan on scene would make me so happy. *sigh*

I have a number of anons like this, and just NOPE.

First, we did not see more of Rumbelle than CS on this show. Rumbelle was a backburner story that was most often characterized as a cautionary tale of abuse and manipulation and the pair were mostly apart and had very little focus through the run of the series.

The showrunners decided that going forward they needed viewers to feel good about Belle and RB so after making them a gross, toxic mess for seasons now (it was just last year that Rumple was fucking the Evil Queen while Belle ran and hid for her life as he stalked and threatened her) they gave fans a bunch of twee scenes of her growing old (a life she lived isolated from everyone but two people) and dying in order to get rid of her and give Rumple motivation for this idiotic S7.

You’re jealous of that? Seriously? Fuck no.

Also you need to understand that 7.02 and 7.04 were very different episodes. 7.02 was still really Henry's story and a moment in time where he called for help and got to see his parents for a few minutes and we all found out that Emma and Hook are doing great and gonna have a baby and living a blissfully happy life together. It was just a check in where it was confirmed for us that Operation Happy Beginning has been a success and things are amazing. Also it spun off WishHook and completely separated the plot of S7 away from CS. 7.04 was 100% Rumple plot and his story. It explained why he's there and what is motivating him in Hyperion Heights. Very different. For 7.02, CS were not the focus because they didn’t need to be. Nothing in S7 requires knowing exactly what is going to happen to them minute by minute. I'll take less screen time and my OTP being completely disentangled from this mess any day of the week.

Anonymous said:Lol my jealousy of Rumbelle having more focus than CS has dropped to 0%, that episode was eh. CS is expecting a baby, and Belle is dead after spending her life trying to fix rumple's. Nice.

Yep. Look, I’m happy for any fans of Rumple or Belle that are happy about this episode and found peace in Belle’s life, but the writers did too much damage to this pairing over the years for me to care about it at all.

Anonymous said:While I can't stand rumbelle I feel for the shippers. They did get some happy scenes but their ship is going to spend the rest of the season apart and in pain until the half alive dies.

Yeah... I would not like that, I don’t think. It’s just kind of creepy and icky and ew-ey. However, to each her own.

Anonymous said:Agreed with that anon, there some good moments, but this was definitely not even close to one of the best episodes of the series. I have to respectfully disagree with Colin on this one. (Actually season 7 in its entirety lol)

Oh dear sweet Colin. Just trying to do his job. So many cast and crew and media have shot their hyperbolic wad with this episode. Calling it the best EVER!!!!! What will they say for the rest of the season? “This is the second best episode EVER!!!!!” Or will they keep one upping every time they have to promote an ep?

No one with an economic interest in S7 can be trusted when talking about the quality of this season (and I include Mitovich and NA in that.)

Anonymous said:I didn't watch the episode but I'm curious: are we supposed to believe that when Belle dies Emma and Killian are old too or was there some timeline glitch and Emma and Killian are still young in Storybrooke at the time of HH events?

Who knows. Belle and Rumple were off living at the Edge of Realms for the last years of her life. Rumple said something about time standing still there except for Belle??? I think. (my mind kept wandering duiring those scenes becuse they were so boring) Then after she died he opened a portal thingy to go to the time and place where the Guardian (the deux ex machina that is going to cure him of the Dark One curse) lives and Rumple was then transported to the newEF (that looks exactly like the old, I mean couldn’t they have given this new storybook’s fairy tale land some stylistic differences???) on the night of Cinderella’s Ball and we see Henry drive by on his motorcycle.

So yes, I think some of the flashforwards could have been from far in the future, and some could have been not all that distant because they were in a weird realm with weird time mechanics.

However, I think Rumple and Belle left Storybrooke well before Henry did (they talk about it at Gideon’s first birthday and Henry still would have been about 14 at that time) so by the time this Hyperion Heights stuff is happening they would have been off in Fairy Tale land “traveling?” (ie living their lives in dusty libraries searching books for a way to cure Rumple.)

It hurts ones head to try to sort it all out.

Anonymous said:After watching this episode, all I think is how sad it is how far this show gone from greatness. Going back 3 years, I would’ve never imagined ouat would be like this now. Sorry for being dramatic, it’s all just so jarring.

I think one of the most unfortunate things about this is that I really think OUAT could have been a valuable and viable franchise for years to come. However, they tried to reboot it too soon. As I’ve said since last spring, I think it would have been much better to let it rest a year or two and then come back with 10-13 episode event series for ABC.

However, this experiment will probably negate any opportunity for that.

Anonymous said:I think it's a little sad that in real time, Belle died like 5-10 years after the s6 finale. I know it was longer for her but to everyone else that knew her, it'd be like she died young.

Yep. I’m not sure if in Hyperion Heights or Storybrooke in 2017 if Belle is dead, dead, or still living out her life at the edge of realms or wherever and Rumple traveled back in time???

I don’t know.

Anonymous said:Do you think killing Belle off is going to decrease the ratings more?

Nope. If ratings do decrease, I don’t think that will have been a factor.

Anonymous said:They lost viewers even with the episode they promoted the most wow

They did and yes, other than the premiere, this has been the most promoted episode. As I’ve said since the premiere, ep 5 ratings should be the most telling. I’m guessing that will be the baseline for the rest of the half season. At that point anyone in the audience who was just curious if they would preserve our favorites happy endings from the first 6 season will know and there won’t be a bump from that. We’ll see.

#ouat negativity #asklizac #ouat 7x04 #ouat 7.04 #ouat s7 #anonymous

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longforgottenunofficial · 7 years

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The Séance Circle Part Two: Davenports, Cabinets, and Other Furnishings

There's obviously a significant gap between the aquatic critters and bat-winged cats flying around St. Anthony's head in an old painting reproduced in an old book on the one hand and a Marc Davis concept sketch for the Haunted Mansion Séance Circle on the other, and there's another gap between that sketch and what eventually was built into the ride. By now, that's what we've come to expect around here. In many cases, the gaps are such that you can't recognize any traces of the original inspiration in the finished product. Not here. Davis's squiddly creatures and airborne felines notwithstanding, for the most part the Séance Circle is the place in the Mansion where the line between source material and finished product is the thinnest. At times, the Imagineers merely reproduced an effect directly. Hey, I wonder where they got the idea of hanging a bell by thin wires so it could float around overhead?

Call me crazy, but I think that possibly they got the idea from séances where a bell was suspended by thin wires so it could float overhead.

Our sources are 19th and early 20th century séances and ghost shows, of course. The period from about the 1850's to the 1920's was the heyday for mediums, spiritualists, and "spirit photography," as well as a heyday for theatrical and parlor magic shows—not coincidentally. It's hardly worth the trouble, for our purposes, to try to sort out the tangled continuum between real, sincere spiritualists and real, sincere attempts to contact the dead via séances at one end of the spectrum and openly-stated illusioneering for entertainment purposes by stage magicians (in the David Copperfield sense of the word) at the other end. There were those, and there was also everything in between. You had fraudulent mediums who insisted they were genuine even while admitting to using tricks now and then, and you had stage magicians who flatly denied they were mediums but also claimed that the ghosts they produced onstage were real. Harry Houdini was a famous skeptic and used his knowledge and expertise in professional stage magic to debunk spiritualists and mediums. These efforts did nothing to keep some people from believing Houdini was himself gifted with psychic powers. The blurring of lines makes sense if you think about it, since a good fraudulent medium is almost by definition a good illusioneer, a good magician. Some of the Haunted Mansion Imagineers were card-carrying magicians (Yale Gracey and Rolly Crump), with a natural interest in all of that stuff. Is it really a surprise that apart from the spectacular Madame Leota effect (which nevertheless may owe something to 19th c. magicians like Harry Kellar), the main difference between the HM séance and a "real" 19th-early 20th c. séance is the fact that one is an honest fake while the other is a dishonest fake? Otherwise, they're both going about the same business: creating realistic-looking spiritualistic effects that could fool a gullible soul under the right circumstances. In fact, the HM version is historically realistic enough to require some annotation. And that's our job. Begin with the ectoplasm ball floating around behind Madame L.

(pic by Jeff Fillmore, SCL photography)

Ectoplasm was commonly produced at séances, usually manifested as a white-ish substance oozing from somewhere on the medium's body. In photos it looks suspiciously like chewed up gauze or paper, and even if you're a true believer, those photos are embarrassments. Real eye-rolling stuff. There's some ecto on the face of the medium in that earlier photo. In "spirit photography," you sometimes saw ectoplasm leaving glowing trails. Not much different than the Disneyland version, really, even if they couldn't figure out how they wanted to spell "ectoplasm" on the Effects blueprints.

Even when the Disneyland version started making faces at guests early in 2006, they weren't departing from tradition, since faces often appeared in clouds of ectoplasm at the "real thing."

The Davenport Brothers

So far we've been talking about the 19th-early 20th c. phenomena in general. If there was a specific historical inspiration for the HM Séance Circle, it was the stage act put on by the Davenport brothers. These are the guys who disclaimed being mediums while suggesting that the ghosts were real. They started in the 1850's and were a very big act throughout the '60's. It all came to an end when one of the brothers died unexpectedly in the 70's.

What they really were were top-notch escape artists and illusioneers, with an excellent staff of assistants who never got caught and never blabbed. The Davenports would be tied up good and tight, and then as soon as the lights went out musical intruments started flying around and ghostly hands and arms appeared, touching people and scaring 'em good. On with the lights, and there are the D bros, still tied up. They invented the "spirit cabinet" for their act. It was a large cabinet in which they both sat, all tied up, sometimes with an audience member sitting between them. After the lights went out, the usual levitations and creepy manifestations followed.

It didn't take long for professional mediums to recognize the advantages of having a large cabinet to work with. The "spirit cabinet" very quickly became a standard fixture at séances. With perfectly straight faces the mediums spoke of the cabinet as a kind of "spiritual storage battery." Seriously. Most often, the "cabinet" was not a wooden chest but a tent or a booth in the corner of the room. The medium might sit in it or at its entrance or in front of it, while spirit manifestations appeared in front of the cabinet.

"And look how fast that button spins when I pull these back and forth!"

Wow, how do they do that?

Okay, nevermind.

It's easy to make fun of these phonies and the people taken in by such simple tricks, but many of these mediums were highly skilled magicians in their own right. It takes practice. I mean, how many people can control their urine stream like this?

Spirit cabinets are present at the Haunted Mansion séance, although it's doubtful if many guests recognize them for what they are. Both types can be seen behind Madame Leota.

It originally looked more like this under show conditions, of course:

As previously noted, the Séance room in the Haunted Mansion is yet another idea that goes all the way back to Ken Anderson, and if I'm reading this sketch correctly, the novel idea that the medium is herself a ghost is also his. Notice that she is emerging from a spirit cabinet, already in this early concept artwork.

Just like the real thing.

Or the real real thing.

Hat tip to Craig Conley. From Puck magazine (1884), perhaps a political cartoon

But getting back to the Davenport brothers, we know about them mostly from written accounts, of course, and one famous description of their act appeared in the London Post. Compare the description of the musical instruments at a Davenport show with what we find in that earlier Davis sketch and in the inner circle of the actual attraction.

Floating tables, even high-flying, large tables, are nothing new to séances.

"Great Caesar's ghost, look at all the old gum wads!"

Marc may have wanted flying animals, but I think even he realized that furniture and musical instruments were more authentic. He still couldn't resist throwing in a cat, though.

The musical instruments are the more interesting feature. Madame Leota refers to most of them in her incantations, as you can see right there in her open spellbook . . .

. . . or hear isolated in this sound file:

Leota's Incantations in the Ride [Audio Link]

That gives us a bell and a tambourine. For the horn, drum, and some kind of stringed instrument, we have to cite two incantations that were recorded but never used. Leota's Incantations Never Used [Audio Link]

Horned toads and lizards, fiddle and strum, Please answer the roll by beating a drum. Harpies and Furies, old friends and new, Blow on a horn, so we'll know that it's you. No one knows why these weren't used. It could be something as simple as a head movement during filming that misaligned the face at that point. If you examine the instruments in the posters for the Davenport brothers, you'll see four kinds, the now-familiar horn, tambourine, and bell, plus something to "fiddle and strum," a guitar. It doesn't take much thought to see why the guitar wasn't kept for the HM séance. That instrument has undergone a complete reinvention in popular imagination since the 19th century and now has utterly different connotations. It is no longer even remotely associated with the exotic or the quaint. Oddies and Endies, out of the past, come to us now, and we'll deal with you last. We've noted the connections between the Séance Circle and its historical sources; now it's time to wrap up a few curious odds and ends. Madame Leota's wooden spirit cabinet originally served a very practical purpose. It was going to house the projector that produces her face. Back then, she was going to face in the opposite direction. You would see her face as you enter the room and swing around behind her. This was the plan up until three or four months before the Mansion opened, at most. It was probably ditched because you wouldn't be able to prevent people from seeing the projector at some point as they went by. Looking at the outer ring of floating objects, here are some random observations. The wicker table is part of a set, and other pieces from the same set have been kicking around in the Attic for years and years. The banner on the longhorn says "X = ?" I think it's a sly tribute to X. Atencio, or maybe they're teasing him ("X? What the heck kind of name is 'X' anyway?"). The gong was originally going to be a cluster of three bells. Oh, and you know that floating candelabra back in the Endless Hallway? It was originally supposed to be here in the Séance Circle. The second drum has been missing at Disneyland for a long time. The last time it was certainly seen was in 1991.

Perhaps it will show up on eBay some day.

Forget about the Phantom Drummer of Tedworth; what's the phantom drum overhead worth?

Originally Posted: Monday, August 9, 2010 Original Link: [x]

#long forgotten #haunted mansion #séance circle

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lifesinterest · 7 years

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How to Start a Journal for Cheapos

I’ve always wanted to write this little (life changing) tip.

I’ve been looking at journals/bullet journals/planners on tumblr, instagram and pinterest for quite a while because they’re so aesthetically pleasing! I follow like 20+ blogs because they are sooo nice to look at. The color schemes, the handwriting, the stickers, the washi tape, their clean white backgrounds - it makes everyone so jealous. BUT AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!

Respect to those who make their journals/notes and their edits so pretty because they’re honestly eye candy. But their community is so small, you know? Not everyone can post pretty pics of their notes and actually have time for other important stuff (like actually study and not take 50 pics and spend 10+ minutes on each pic to edit, in addition to liking everything from other studyblrs).

That’s why I’m gonna give you some life hacks(?) for those who want to start a journal that's aesthetically pleasing without having to empty your wallet to buy the exact same materials they use. Please note, this is more of a Canadian hack because the US dollar is killing us.

The Book

The most important part of this hack is the book. Many people use the Happy Planner, Moleskine, Leuchtturm1917 (I had to Google the spelling), or any journal that’s dotted/grid. That’s too expensive for me ($20-30+) and other dotted journals are like…$15 CAD for 60 pages. Where’s the bargain there? I mean, sure dotted journals are cool but do you really need the dotted journal? I went down that route at first so I printed out my own dotted journal using my computer and printer. At first I was pretty excited, but when I started to write across the page, I just felt like the dots were confining me to where and how big I could write. I placed my dots so that it matched the measurements of any regular dotted notebook (so I could feel cool) but it didn’t work out like I wanted to. Keep in mind that there are days where my handwriting is excellent and others times where it just looks like my younger brother decided to scribble in it. You need small handwriting and if you write outside the dotted box, your inner perfectionist comes out and you just feel like your whole life is ruined because you couldn’t keep yourself inside the line dot.

I’ve made my own notebooks (which I still use) and bought a couple others to find which works for me. I find that a blank pages work best. I have two DIY notebooks and the one without the any lines/dots is basically at the end of its use. I can sketch, write notes - basically anything and it doesn’t look bad. The other one on the other hand, I have to keep myself inside the box and it just drives me crazy when one stroke goes over the line. I also bought a Muji 2017 planner at the end of December. It was ~$12 + tax and it was on sale. It was a smart buy for a simple weekly planner but you know what would be a smarter buy? The same planner layout from Dollarama for $4+tax. Why did I buy something from Muji you ask? Because the pens are cheapish and good quality and there was a sale on planners (duh). I think Muji stores have sales at the end of the year or around a large holiday where notebooks are on sale. I haven’t bought one so I can’t say for sure about the quality but I know for sure the quantity does not match with the expensive price (for Canadians). The planner I bought is not recycled paper and is of good quality.

(http://empfire.info/my-favourite-planner-from-muji/)

My other notebook is one I just bought and I’m in love. Guess where I bought it from? Dollarama! For $3.50 + tax. I’ve been eyeing it for a month and when I tried to look for it at a different Dollarama, it wasn’t there! I freaked out so I went back where I first saw it and there was only one left (phew)! It’s labeled as a sketchbook but I originally planned for it to be a journal. Also, if you do decide to buy a blank journal, I recommend sketchbooks because they come in different color, thickness and texture of paper; it all depends on what you want.

This is what it looks like. And obviously, I didn’t edit it because AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT (with my dusty ass table). I don’t know if the paper is recycled or not because it doesn’t say but it sure is recyclable! There’s no coils or anything, just a piece of fabric and a wad of glue that basically holds everything together. The cover is chipboard. And I love it! It’s got that recyclable paper look so I can be cool and say I’m saving the world. The paper quality is pretty thick. I tested the paper with a Sharpie and it didn’t bleed through though you could see it from the other side. I’m not too sure it will hold a watercolor portrait but it does feel like it won’t bleed through if you use it sparsely. So for those in Canada, I highly recommend this book as something on your To Buy list - good quality and quantity for a cheap price.

Writing Utensils

The second most important must have for a journal because what’s the point of a notebook if you can’t write in it? There are many out there that your favorite studyblrs use: Mildliners, Muji pens, Staedler Fineliners, Microns, etc… But hey, guess what? You don’t need any of those! Those are all just over hyped. You can totally go old school and use Crayola!. I recently bought a pack of 25 Crayola Supertips for $3 + tax. And that my friends, is a steal. They usually retail for ~$7. I once saw a pack of 50 for $3 in a flyer which is twice the deal. And honestly, with Mildliners, I don’t understand what the hype is all about except for the fact that everyone uses them…because everyone else uses them (y’know what I’m sayin’?). It’s basically a double ended marker retailing for $7-8 for a pack of 5. Where’s the bargain? As for Muji pens…I have no complaints. I’m lucky enough to discover it and live close to a Muji store. Their gel pens are the only ones that don’t stop writing in the middle of a word. Don’t you hate that? I only go for the dark blue color though because I feel like regular ballpoint pens do such an amazing job at…you know…writing! I go to college, and as all you college students know, there are free pens everywhere and some of them are really good with pigment and the smooth flow. ATM, I’m using a Paper Mate pen I got from Tylenol (I swear). The only complaint I have for Muji Pens is that it smudges real easily. I currently use a dark blue color in 0.7 if you were wondering. I feel like that smaller the size of the pen is, the more unstable my hand writing is. I write quite big.

I also see the Pilot erasable highlighter around in pastel. I was tricked into buying these suckers and honestly…I may or may not regret it. I regret it because they don’t function very well. I looked into reviews and everything and they all say they’re amazing with a 5 star rating but I would say so otherwise. I bought it for the functionality of it during school instead of just journal use. I highlight a sentence I wrote but then I go a bit too far and when I do this cool pen twirl thing to use the other end to erase it…the ink smudges. It freaking smudges and guess what? The ink is NOT erasable. The highlighter basically erases its pigment but leaves a nasty ink smudge on my paper. Why…did nobody talk about this? I’m pretty darn sure it’s not only me. The only reason I bought it was because I don’t like the neon colors (I also bought it because it looked cute). This highlighter didn’t work very well (it died on me the first month) so I started looking at other highlighters and found something called a gel highlighter usually sold and on sale by Sharpie. When I did some research though, I found that it had the exact same look as a pencil crayon or even a crayon. It was just a neon color. So, I pulled out my 64 pack of Crayola crayons I didn’t use since grade 5 and used it to highlight my notes and can I tell you how pretty it looks? Since your paper have different grains, the crayon looks different when drawn on the paper (how much white space is covered). So my recommendations are Crayola Supertips and crayons. I don’t have a recommendation for fineliners but there are many alternatives that do not cost $7-10.

Stickers and Washi Tape Decoration

Ohh the glory. Don’t they look so nice when they’re color coordinated? Well, honestly though, AIN’T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!!!! How do you find the time in your schedule to sit down for an hour (or more?) and plan your week with stickers and washi tape? And I’ve seen videos of planners who “switch” to the bullet journal because they don’t have time to plan their life with stickers and washi tape anymore. I mean, for sure it’s nice to look at but do you really want to spend your time doing it? For you creative people out there, could you plan your week in one day and not touch your stickers again for the entire week? I don’t think so. I know I would be rearranging stickers, and adding additional ones throughout the week because my hands won’t sit still. Plus, the nice stickers are expensive (especially from Etsy). Sorry but I don’t have any sticker alternatives. If I did, I wouldn’t share them because I wouldn’t even use it anyway. I’m a sticker hoarder so there is no way I’m using any stickers in my books. As for washi tape, you can’t go wrong especially if you buy it on ebay. The only thing that can go wrong is being a washi tape hoarder. Some have drawers and drawers of washi tape and I’m like…really, girl? Really? I only have 2 tubes from Michaels because it was BOGO free and I feel that it’s plenty. So, as for decoration, I recommend you skip the stickers and just use the washi tape. The tape can go a long way and it has multiple creative uses.

The Cheapest Alternative

Almost everyone has a phone or tablet. Well, guess what? There are a bunch of free apps that allow you to write down journal entries. If you just want to look at a bunch studyblrs, studygrams and Pinterest posts like me, just write your entry on your phone before you decide whether or not you’ll actually be able to continuously write in your journal. Again, this is a beginner’s guide to journaling, planning, etc. So, there is no need to go expensive right away - you may never know if you like it or not and if you’ve found your own writing style. Just buy a cheap notebook first before heading out to buy a $30 notebook from Moleskine. You have all the time in the world, so be patient and find out what works for you!

#studyblr #journals #bullet journal #cheap monday #guide for cheapos #stationary review #journaling for beginners #mypost

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3one3 · 7 years

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The Sequel - 874

Social Enrichment

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“I’m never going anywhere in this country with the three of you again. One of you is bad enough. Three is impossible.”

“You’re just mad no one wants selfies with you.”

“No I’m mad that every time I pick up my fork, someone asks me to move so they can sit next to you for a picture.”

“The price you pay to sit next to Marco Reus.”

“You’re an insufferable cunt.”

“Whoa! Hey! You don’t talk like that! I’m actually insulted now, because you don’t use that word.”

André tried to explain to Marco that Game of Thrones had a serious effect on Christina’s cursing, and Christina tried to stuff too many pieces of penne in her mouth at one time. It was as if every other person in the Italian restaurant took turns asking her to either take a picture of them with the three Borussia Dortmund players or give up her seat to make taking a selfie with them easier ever since the bowl of pasta was placed in front of her. It was really good pasta too, so it was torture.

“I could have been home watching it right now. I’m supposed to be home watching it right now. You people infringed on my plans.”

“For clarification, when I asked her if she wanted to have dinner with you two tonight, her response was- Hang on, I’ll read it to you right from the phone,” André told his friends. He picked up his iPhone and found the text conversation with his wife. She scowled disapprovingly while she chewed penne, pancetta, arugula, and tomato in creamy vodka sauce. “”Yes, yes, O-M-G yes!” And the second yes was all caps. Many exclamation points. And she picked the restaurant.”

“I did wonder why you would want to have Italian the night before you go to Italy,” Mario chimed in across the table from Marco. They were sharing a pizza. Christina wanted to tell him she wondered why he was eating pizza instead of some specialized diet for his mystery condition no one would tell her about, but she wasn’t that petty or crass.

“Italian food in Rome is not like Italian food outside of Italy,” she sighed. “And I thought it would be quick, and easy.”

“It is,” Marco nodded. “You’re complaining more than eating.” Christina threw a wadded up paper napkin at him. It bounced off the side of his face and hit hers. André laughed at her but he rubbed his ankle on her leg under the table too, to try to be consoling. He knew she wasn’t having a good time at dinner, and that she didn’t need to be there. He could see a true temper tantrum brewing and didn’t want to let it explode if he could do something to quash it. His girl was just plain cranky, and the PMS didn’t help, and the fans really were annoying, and Marco and Mario didn’t include her in the conversations or talk about things that would naturally draw her in. He thought they’d have a better time when his friends suggested grabbing a bite and hanging out. It was slightly relieving to see her take steps to calm her own impending tantrum after she glared at Marco for having the nerve to have a face that deflected balled up napkins. Rather than continuing the childish exchange of insults and gripes, she picked up her phone and her fork and focused on eating and social media browsing or texting. The guys went back to talking about who would and wouldn’t be fit for the Bundesliga match at the weekend. None of the three of them could play in the one on Wednesday. Marco was just beginning rehab, Mario was recovering from being smashed in the head by a rival defender and still had staples in his face, and André had only just returned to team training that day. Mario expected to be in the team at the weekend. André did not. Christina knew that already. They talked about other teammates battling fitness situations too, and she was interested in that, but didn’t bother trying to ask questions.

“Hi hello are you at the match or watching from home?” she asked Juan instead, who was not in the Chelsea team for the Blues’ league cup clash happening during her dinner. They talked that morning while she was changing for the barn, and he told her he wasn’t playing, which was one of the reasons she was eager to make the dinner plans with the more local players. After that, Christina was too busy for Juan. That was why she didn’t know if she went to the game or not. Every other day, she knew what his evening plans were. She knew what his everything plans were, more or less. They weren’t talking less, as André thought. They were talking less in front of him, and not for any particular reason. His improving fitness meant he was at Brackel longer each day, and the rider was back to full-time training with all of her horses except Dirk, so she was at the barn longer each day. She preserved her time with him as time with him, not time with him and her phone and her friends on it.

“At SB. It’s a nice game :)” the Spaniard told her. She knew from Twitter that his team was demolishing their lower league opponents.

“Can I post your baby blue bikini pic on IG?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever worn a baby blue bikini.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Sure.”

She wanted to post the photo he took of her on the boat, looking tan, and sexy, with green juice to drink and ice wrapped to her ankle and a book for entertainment, in juxtaposition to a picture of her pasta and Coke. Her caption would be “Horse show week before Olympics vs. horse show week after Olympics”. Christina was an expert at social media posts that looked self-deprecating on their face but were actually kind of braggy. Making fun of the not-so-good difference in preparation for competition before the Games and after was also a chance to show off how amazing she looked in that bikini, and how cool she must be to have someone around who could take such a stunning photo of her. Her skin was inhumanly metallic, and the lighting looked like a professional setup. The composition was just really appealing. It wasn’t like just anybody walked up behind her and snapped a photo with their iPhone. Even the juice looked amazing, and the whole thing told a story about who she was. She really liked the story.

“Have you ever worn a bikini in another color?” she asked the photographer after making her post.

“No. 1 piece is more flattering for my figure.”

“I think you could pull it off. How did you look that time you accidentally wore my underwear?”

“Gay porn star.”

“How would you know?”

“Shhhhhhhhh cariña.”

“What are you laughing at?” André asked.

“Juan.”

“He’s not playing?”

“Rested. Can I have a piece of your bread since you’re not gonna eat it?” Christina put her phone down and flashed a pleasant smile across to her partner. She wanted his garlic bread, first and foremost, and to make sure she was nice to him so that she could have her way later. She wanted that bath with him.

“When are you and me hanging out?” Marco asked her while André passed his uneaten bread.

“What do you mean?” The rider took a big bite and then furrowed her brows at the ginger haired forward beside her, who was looking at his pizza and not her brows, or the crumbs on her face for that matter.

“Schü says you want to hang out.”

“You’re not supposed to tell her I said that,” his friend chided. “She’s supposed to think you want to hang out with her.”

“I do want to hang out with her...” Marco held one hand out questioningly and mirrored the gesture with the slice of pizza in the other, which resulted in prosciutto and melon sliding off said slice of pizza onto the table.

“You guys know I’m sitting right here, right?” They always talk like I can’t hear them!

“He thinks you’re desperate for some Marco and Chris time but for some reason you’re too chicken to say so. I think he’s dumb,” Marco explained. He used a fork to rescue the food, and André just frowned at him.

“What happens during Marco and Chris time?” Mario interjected. “That’s not like Juan Mata and Chris time is it?” Everyone at the table turned toward him to glare at some level on the scale from questioning judgement to furiousness. “Don’t hit me. I already have staples in my face.”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Marco remarked more than asked, head shaking ruefully.

“I meant...he’s like her bitch. He follows her around at the horse events, and goes as her date to annoying parties, and takes pictures for her- all that shit- and then he doesn’t get anything for it. I wasn’t talking about that summer...”

“Wait, what pictures?” Christina’s glare, at the furious end of the scale, slowly morphed more into perturbed curiosity. Mario picked up his mobile.

“You just posted one on Insta, didn’t you?”

“How do you know he took it?”

“Neither of you posted anything from your holiday.” He gestured back and forth between her and her husband. Oh. Well...I mean...That’s true. It’s weird that he noticed though, isn’t it?

“You spend too much time on social media,” Marco commented for all of them. André reached for his own device to see what they were talking about. “Every minute you aren’t training, you’re doing something on that phone.”

“I don’t even know what you’re trying to say about me and Juan, but no, I don’t think “Marco and Chris time” would be like that. I don’t even know what “Marco and Chris time” is.” The rider took a long sip from her straw and let her eyes move from player to player. They all looked uncomfortable and confused. Marco was the first to take command of the awkwardness. He turned to frown at her like he was really disappointed.

“Woman, please,” he scoffed dramatically. “You know full well. Marco and Chris time is when we avoid being seen together and I make you eat food you don’t like while we talk about other people.”

“Okay...?” Christina pretended she was still clueless, but what he was saying did ring some bells. She knew by “other people” he meant they talked about Jill, mostly. She also remembered Marco and Chris time occasionally including a lot of brown liquor, or friendly cuddling and napping. What she didn’t know was how her husband evidently knew she missed hanging with his friend one-on-one, and thinking about that helped her realize why they were having that dinner. She also missed hanging out with all of them together. It was their first summer without a shared holiday in a long time. It was their first summer without sharing a bed to watch TV and be bums, without going shopping with them and picking out goofy clothes for them to try or rejecting their terrible selections, without partying and dancing, without playing in a pool or the ocean, and without feeling like Mario and Marco were her friend-family too, not just André’s. Husband and wife discussed how hanging with them wasn’t the same when they went to dinner with a bunch of guys from the team, and their partners, as part of conversations about Christina’s lack of local friends in Dortmund. Husband was discreetly trying to rectify that situation. Wife looked at him across their pasta bowls and smiled a little as she put it all together. Marco certainly blew his cover, but she still really appreciated that he listened to her say she was going to be home a lot and then tried to stimulate some friendships that might help her enjoy that time in Dortmund.

“So when you get back from Italy we’re gonna hang out. You let me drive the Ferrari, I take you to sushi, and then we can do something you like. Like, letting me pick out stilettos for you that you otherwise wouldn’t consider.”

“That just sounds like me doing a bunch of stuff I don’t want to do,” she chuckled at the midfielder to her right. “No way are you driving the Ferrari.”

“Fine, but we’re getting sushi and you’re getting primo shoes.”

“I like sushi. I like shoes.” Mario looked at his teammate like he was mildly offended at being left out.

“I’ll take you out for sushi and shoes another time, babe,” Marco winked.

“I don’t want to go with you. I want to go with her.”

“You and I should get mani/pedi’s together and have a coffee date,” Christina offered the other player, fully aware that they were both just pretending to vie for her company because André’ had a rough time lately with his injuries and his relationship and they’d be doing him a solid by making her feel like a valued member of the clique. They made tentative plans for their separate “dates”, and when it was all settled and the guys went back to talking about dressing room things, she mouthed a thank you at her regular date. He winked back, and his beautiful deep blues squinted a bit because they were filling with pride and satisfaction with himself for doing a good thing without even having to be guided or prodded to it, and that made him want to grin. He could stop his mouth from doing it, but not his eyes. Getting credit for the friend-dates was nice, but he didn’t want it, and he apologized later on for Marco being so obvious.

“He wasn’t supposed to make it all awkward,” he explained in the bathtub, Christina in his lap and lavender and sandalwood in his nose. She put a blue robot in the water that turned into cappuccino-like foam. The robot, she promised, was full of “good stuff for sleepy time”. It smelled nice, and she felt nice in his lap too, so the blue bath was okay by him.

“I appreciate it either way,” she shrugged against his chest.

“Are we in the tub because your ovaries and breasts hurt and you didn’t want to be bored by yourself, or-“

“I just wanted to soak with you. We haven’t in a while.”

“I was going to say, or because you want an excuse not to have sex after. “We just got clean!” or-“

“Has it never occurred to you that I might want to get clean expressly for the purpose of having sex?”

“No. Not unless you’re gonna ask me to lick your ass-“

“I’m not. But we are making love after this.”

“Making love, ay?”

“Mhm. Get your finger out of my belly button.”

André left her belly button alone and picked up the sponge floating on the foamy surface instead. He wrung it out a bit and then slowly moved it around his girl’s chest- across her sternum, between her breasts, under each one, and in lazy circles around her nipples while he gently roamed around her stomach with his palm cupped as if he were going to scratch at her. He liked the feel of her tummy, and the view of her wet chest. The water only made it a few inches shy of her armpits because she was sitting on the elevated bump designed specifically for their current position. His moving the sponge around made waves spill up higher and leave glistening wetness on her breasts on the retreat. Christina insisted on candles instead of any of the overhead lights, and their little flames emphasized the gleam of the water. She was kneading his thighs a little with her hands, and rubbing one of his ankles with her big toe. It took a really long time to fill the excessively wide tub, but the comfort of the many different soaking positions it afforded was entirely worth the wait.

“I’m kind of nervous about the horse show.”

“You’re joking,” the player laughed at the little voice from the little girl relaxing on him.

“I’m serious. What if everyone is weird to you after you don’t win a medal you should have won, or weird to you for securing a team medal over some people who probably should have won? What if everyone is fake and adoring?”

“Don’t be silly,” he told her, abandoning the sponge to put his arm around her head and comb her hair back. He knew she didn’t want the blue foam in her hair but it was wet anyway because she washed it in the shower while the tub was filling. “Some people- not the riders or trainers, I’m sure- will probably want to be your friend now, or use you however they can. No one else is going to be any different. They all respect you. If anything, they’ll respect you more now for the 5 clear rounds. I still think the rules are stupid,” André grumbled. “You jumped clear. The other guy had faults!”

“That’s not how it works,” Christina reminded needlessly, with a small smile.

“Whatever. You’ll be fine.” She’s just looking for drama. It’s like she’s incapable of going into an event without any. One day she’s going to have to learn to just chill again, her bath buddy sighed to himself. Of all the times to be nervous about a competition, how could she possibly choose now? It’s just a Tour thing, she’s already qualified for the final, and she’s sworn a million times that she doesn’t care to defend her title. She just won two Olympic medals. One of them was a gold! How could she possibly be nervous?

“I’m not worried that I won’t be fine. I’m nervous about how people will react to me. It’s different,” she sighed aloud. “I don’t want people to be weird.”

“I think you’re manufacturing the prospect of a problem, Prinzessin. You’re not going to have time to be around the horse people anyway. You’re going with a toddler and a baby, some new parents, some grandparents, dogs, a student and a boyfriend...”

“Okay.”

“I love it when you give up and say “okay” like that,” André growl-whispered in her ear. The gesture produced uncontrollable cackling, and numerous declarations about how lame and cheesy he could be. He didn’t care. “I do! I love when you have an issue and you tell me about it, first of all, and then I love when you let me actually talk you out of it, and accept what I say about it. It’s rare!”

“You’re rare.”

“Shine bright like a diamond.”

“Stop it,” his girl snorted. “And are diamonds even rare anymore?”

“I suppose not. But to be real- I do love when you let me help you with something,” he told her very sincerely. He used that hand around the top of her head to bring it closer for a smooch on her temple with the side of his mouth. “I love you.”

“Love you,” Christina mumbled back as she wriggled around some to give her butt a break from sitting on hard porcelain. Her partner offered his thighs as an alternative, and then lifted her by the armpits when she accepted. It made her giggle, and brought her face much closer to his when he set her down. He kissed her cheek until she turned her head to get one on the lips instead. “Love you,” she repeated as those lips curled up in a small grin. André’s hands were already back on more comforting parts of her body, and she did some more wriggling and wiggling to get at least a little lower again. It was warmer in the water and she didn’t want so much of herself sticking up out of it- plus André’s chest was a good pillow for the back of her head and the tub wasn’t.

“You’re lucky you’re so small, pretty girl,” he yawned. “Whenever Mausi climbs around on me I start to feel anxious that he’ll be too big for it one day.”

“And then you remember his mom is a midget.”

“I still don’t get how he fit in here.” The BVB man spread both palms flat on his girl’s belly for a second, as if to assess the dimensions of it. They split to travel to the widest part of her hips, squeezed, and then followed the tops of her thighs downward, between her legs. Her right foot was flat on his calf, so that knee was bent and flopped over to the side to rest on the tub. There was plenty of room to feel around in the place he was interested in. He felt something wonderful. “Ugh, wet pussy lips are so amazing. It’s like...I can’t even describe. Like dumpling noodles, but better.”

“Ew. Boyfriend.” Christina cringed and pulled a disbelieving face he couldn’t see even if his eyes hadn’t been shut to help enjoy the sensation around his fingertips. So soft, and delicate, and pliable. Being underwater makes the outside part feel like the inside does after she cums. I could pet and play with her like this all night, he sighed happily inside while fingertip-deep inside her. His middle finger enjoyed in there while his pointer and ring fingers touched outside, which was equally soft and pleasant, and hairless. Christina used her new blade sharpening knowledge to revitalize her own electric razor too.

“Have I ever licked your pussy underwater?”

“No. And stop saying the P-word. I hate that word.”

“I kind of want to. But I’m not sure how it would work,” André thought aloud. “I would get a mouth full of water, obviously.”

“You are so special sometimes.”

“How much of your bath time when I’m not here is touching yourself? If I had your vagina, I would submerge it in water and touch it for an hour a day, minimum. God...baby. I want...” His thought went unfinished, but he tilted his head to kiss-suck at her jaw, and cupped his left hand around her right breast to lift and squeeze it a little. His totally unfiltered expressions of desire made his wife smirk. She found it cute, not sexy. But his touch was closer to sexy.

“What do you want?” she asked, trying very hard not to sound as knowing as she felt. The footballer used an arm across her waist to heave her whole body abruptly upward, where he could kiss her neck.

“I want my baby.” He held her tight to his chest and pulled as much of her skin between his lips as he could. His then favorite of her features remained just underwater, and his fingers remained just inside and outside there. The whole thing made for a strange dichotomy for Christina, who didn’t really like being held up by her chest and awkwardly squished, but did like her partner’s thin lips devouring her neck. Half of her was very cold being forced up out of the nice warm water, and half of her was still getting hotter.

“You may have her if you stop crushing her ribcage,” she giggled, much to his delight. He loved her giggles. He loved her happiness when it was authentic, spontaneous, and unburdened. He loved being the catalyst for it most of all. It made him want her even more. He continued holding her up with his arm right under her chest, and used the other one and all of his core strength to lift them both out of the water. André managed to get to his feet without dropping her or slipping in the tub. He stepped out of it very carefully, set Christina down just long enough for her to turn around, picked her up again with one arm at her back and a firm hold at the back of her thigh, and promptly laid her right down on the big black bathmat between the glass shower and the long vanity. It wasn’t much more comfortable than just being on the tile floor, and his knees told him so when he set himself down on top of her, but comfort was not a priority. Kissing the goosebump-covered, wet, warm, giggling girl was the most urgent concern.

He started it almost carefully because he was distracted by her face. His lips lowered toward hers and then his eyes found hers. They were so happy- delighted even. The darkness of the bathroom made her pupils swell to compensate, leaving thin grayish-blue rings to express her energy. Christina didn’t say anything, but her eyes said “my favorite thing”. Her partner recognized it. It was almost like looking at Lukas when he successfully built a block tower larger than his last one. Both looks were pure joy. He knew she wasn’t turned on the way he was. She was thrilled because of how turned on he was. His attraction and thirst did that to her. Her expression also told him there was truly nothing she’d rather be doing, and that was a rarity of late. It almost always seemed as if even when she was having a good time and enjoying something, some part of her wished she could be elsewhere, doing a different thing, with someone else. So it took a few seconds for his enthusiasm for kissing to catch back up to his lips, and it came with a sloppy exhale through his nose, and a hand in Christina’s hair.

“You make me so happy, baby,” he muttered after making sure he covered every bit of her lips with both of his, twice. It was her silk pussy that got me, but her reaction is so much more important, he thought to himself while she lifted her head just off the carpet to push little kisses on his closed lips. I don’t make anybody in the world happy the way I make her happy. She’s the only one. I’m here just for her and she’s here just for me. I know it. I know it.

“Make love to me,” the rider whispered in her most deliberately seductive but submissive voice. She didn’t want to be demanding. She knew he liked to hear her ask for what she wanted but still maintain some semblance of her usual prudish innocence. She knew it made him hard, and hungry, to know that she wanted or needed something from him enough to ask for it instead of suggest it with behavior or wait for it, and for her to be serious about it instead of casual. Christina was pretty good at conjuring that tone even when she didn’t necessarily feel entirely in line with its connotation. Sometimes she employed it to make him happy, and sometimes it just came out naturally. It was the former situation on the bathroom floor, but she wanted it to be natural, and she was eager to see if the bathroom floor was going to be the place where they finally had that meaningful kind of sex she longed for- the kind she believed she only had with Juan then.

“What else did you think I was going to do?” André whispered back, smiling. He smooched her on the mouth again instead of giving her a chance to respond, and he dropped his lower body down to push against her. His hips moved up and down over hers a few times- slowly, and a touch labored, as if he were doing pull ups and just happened to be dragging himself against her the whole time. It was just too difficult to remain still while he cradled her head and kept kissing. Eventually it was Christina who clamped her hands on his butt cheeks and forced him to stop. She wanted the player to move just like that, actually, but with part of him inside of her instead of caught between their bodies. André was aware of that, and he lifted up enough and reached down between them to fix that, and she readied herself to find out if they could still have the “I just want to love you” sex she was both having and fantasizing about regularly with her best friend.

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toddmichaelrogers · 7 years

Text

928 Days Later

This post originally appeared as an update across various social media for Spell Saga.

~pre Eh, ya’ll know I ramble. I don’t fucking like it when people who are too old use new language as if it’s their fucking language, but there is a tl:dr (god, I had to google that) at the bottom of the page if’n yer only interested in the sweet stuff (shipments, deck 2 & the like). But I like stories, and I am--if not old, getting older, so my stories take a long time to wind up and spill out. Longer than they did when I was a kid, anyhow. And much slower than these new youths and their dang emotiji’s or whatever.

all the kids’ talk in hieroglyphics It’s good for feelings but not specifics

~1 It all comes down to choices, really. I remember when I was younger--I was very newly 20, and barely 13 in most of my head--I remember I was homeless, not like, starving homeless (though sometimes I was) and not like, sleep under a bridge homeless (I had the couches of friends, and their friends, and my barely-met acquaintances, though no one seemed to own an air conditioner that Summer. One dude shall remain nameless, as I’m fairly certain he might be a super bad guy. He was never around anyway so I used to listen to his CD collections and spread my Star Wars figures around his house (13, remember, 13). I remember he had a box set of Joy Division, and I became obsessed with this one really fast version of “Love Will tear us Apart”. I used to listen to that in the Summer heat and walk around the house naked looking for something to eat. It was really years later that I realized I had lost my mind.

I had made the choice to stop taking my meds regularly. And then some other choices, as my mind spiraled without that ketracel-white. After what some would say was an alarming series of ordinarily dysfunctional life, my parents made the choice to kick me out. I have had to make a lot more choices since then.

here is a pic of me from around that time with original french toaster: Paxson of Ashgarden.

~2 Where are your fucking packages?

~3 I know that there are some people who keep in touch with me regularly and have a better idea of what’s been going on. And I also know there are others who backed this project 2 and a half years ago and think it’s dead, or i’ve been trolling everyone with shipping dates.

~4 I was at a restaurant. I was not a customer. I had just spent three days straight and about 30 hours running around mopping up drinks. By Sunday, I’m usually on my third double, and it hurts to stand, or run up the stairs with trays of food. (who puts stairs in a restaurant)? But I was feeling pretty good about myself, having made it through one more death sentence of a weekend. I took the job to pay for Spell Saga when some other stuff fell through (like, uh, all our plans, & people abandoning the project). Each Sunday usually ends with me depositing a wad of cash into an ATM and then passing out on my couch surrounded by boxes of a fantasy card game. It is not a bad life, if not a little embarrassing. Also this particular Sunday it was tornado weather and I got to watch an entire porch of rich people get fucking destroyed. I was soaked and running around collecting plates being thrown on the wind. Inside I sat down next to people my age, and before long it came time to tell them why I was serving them and not doing something with my life, which is what I always do if I like a table. As it came out, these people were super into games, and Kickstarter, and anything I could possibly like. I had a used deck in my car that I grabbed for them and they thanked me and told me I was doing great. It was a real moment for me. What was most important though, was the stories they told me about other crowdfunded projects, and how much keeping backers up-to-date mattered to them.

~5 Most of my choices about Spell Saga have been insane. Whether good, or bad (there have been both) the choices have been the work of a mad man. That goes for game design as well as business wise. I do not apologize for the game, but man I am fucking trying you guys. And you will have all your shit this year. But it’s taking forever and here’s where we’re at now:

In 2016 I made a plan with my main man J Rizzo to fund a shipment of 300 units, so all of you would get your shit before we finished with all the printing (there were delays due to packaging changes and etc).

Also that year, J Rizz* dropped off the face of the earth, as did most everyone involved with the project, due to various reasons. I took a second job or two and funded the shipment myself. They arrived in July of that year.

*J Rizz and I are cool. We had a very long talk recently that lifetime asked if they could film.

here is a pic of me & paxson of ashgarden & his son! (we are cool too)

I started sending packages out almost immediately, but I had to wait on the mail myself (autographed boxes take some damn time). By the end of the year everything was going smoothly and every. Single. Package. was about to go out by December 31st. What a fucking relief that was.

Then I lost two jobs in a month, and so did my wife. That was around the time the comments started to crop up, “where is my shit” and etc. Which I get. I mean, I don’t leave comments like that, but I get why someone would.

I scrambled and pulled together jobs and money and started sending out packages again. But now there was a problem: It was 2017 and we needed to start thinking about our patient, angelic manufacturer. Right now, they are waiting for us to upload the art to print Deck 2 and pay the deposit on it. Panda Games has been amazing with us. And I’m not saying that I’m paying for everything by working a restaurant--I have other sources of income for this project. But I am putting most of my personal funds towards it this month, just to get it finished quickly.

So in the last month I had to make another choice, in a long line of choices, and not send as many packages out. Everyone in the US who pledged over $25 should have their shit. I sent out a few Internationals, but not many. My ever-shifting goal is that by July everyone has their stuff. But again, I’ve lost two jobs before--shit happens. I used to not want to leave ANY updates because I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. I think looking back that was a bad choice. It was probably also a bad choice to air ship any units over here. The cost alone would have covered the printing of Deck 2. But I like all’a you. Even if you leave a mean comment every once in awhile. And I want everyone to have their stuff. Most of my e n t i r e life revolves around it right now.

~6 More choices have been made since the last update. We are printing new packaging for deck 1 and the prelude deck (which means everyone will at least have a fancy zero edition package from those we air-shipped last July--only 301 ever made)! We are also printing deck 2 AND it has it’s very own super-cool holofoil sleeve. But that’s not even the most exciting shit for me.

Cousin Lauren and I are finishing it up. That’s right. It’s happening. She is illustrating a picture for the front of deck 2’s box (I have been dreaming for years it would match the minstrel/lover pic we use on deck 1) and then she’s illustrating a picture for deck 3’s box.

We aren’t printing deck 3 at the moment. But it’s going to happen. So in the meantime, she’ll be spending the next month getting all the art for deck 3 and the ending finished (as soon as I finish writing her an art list).

And THAT’S NOT ALL. Lauren is going to be working on the art for the a new realmwalker deck you may remember called The Discordant Shore. It is the deck that includes copies of all the homemade Paladin Cards you will be receiving this year.

I don’t want to get too into details on this one just yet, but you play as a girl named Brell, who is also named Scaradh. And it’s an adventure so unlike the highlands you will be surprised at where it takes you. Here is a pic of some character descriptions I sent Lauren:

~7 When I’m not trying to NOT vomit because I am cleaning up a table, or worrying about you, or reading wonderful or disparaging comments in between cleaning up tables and worrying, I have been very hard at work on the next Spell Saga release: 1.5 The Under Sky. This DECK is like 2 games in one. You can use it between decks one and two, or use it as a new deck one. The design of this thing has destroyed me. I had to Photoshop the cards as I was making it because the ideas became so complex. It’s all about The Last Minstrel, but it’s also about how this process of making the game has been. Everything has taken so long, and a part of me is sort of dead inside. But I think maybe that part was supposed to die. In it’s place I have found a new type of strength to make things no matter what.

~8 This December is the 8th anniversary of when I first designed Spell Saga. In my head, there is a sort of countdown clock (198 days as of this posting). When the clock in my head strikes zero, my plan is that everyone will have everything. every. Thing. And then I’ll never work in a restaurant again.

~epi Spell Saga continues to dominate my life. As do other things. My band just finished recording everything except the vocals on our first LP, another project that took longer than expected. And I wake up nearly every morning and try to spend at least an hour working on The Novel that has consumed a decade of my life. My plan is that once everyone has their shit, I will pay to have decks 3 and the ending printed, and then we will Kickstart them to recover costs and make sure everyone who wants one sees it. I don’t give a shit about money. I don’t care if I ever make a goddamn cent on this game. It’s all going to end up going back into it anyway. Ii just want to finish the story. And now we can. I hope, regardless of how you feel or think about me, you will want to finish it to.

-mE. 913 days since the kickstarter started.

TL:DR

-packages still going out -no you have not missed yours -deck 2 the forest being printed with holofoil sleeve -deck 3 the caves being illustrated / finished -deck 4 the ending being illustrated / finished -deck 1.5 the under sky nearly finished -realkwalker ~ the discordant shore being illustrated / finished -paladin level cards part of discordant shore -everyone will have everything this year -most will have everything by july -life is hard but good

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