#a couple weeks in and I am here to report that I am AWFUL at graphic design but I'm pretty good at storyboarding and it's fun.

[reminiscentrainclouds]

Being an artist is kinda crazy. I'm drawing so much stuff lately, I feel like this is the kind of situation where people get burnt out so hopefully that doesn't happen. But I mean on top of doing a lot of personal art and doodling a lot, I have four project-based classes that I'm making stuff in, so it's just like. Stuff aaaaall across the board.

[someone-will-remember-us]

There is no collective noun for rapists but spend a week at the Pelicot trial and you wonder why. As the early morning queue of women who’ve come to support Gisèle Pelicot passes through security at the Palais de Justice, Avignon, you spy men with downturned faces scurrying across the lobby past the press. In court they sit on the left, clustered around a glass box containing more men, those in custody for the gravest crimes. Since there are 50 in total, the alleged rapists have been tried in batches and I’m just here for the final seven: Boris, Philippe, Nicolas, Nizair, Joseph, Christian, Charly.

Plus Dominique Pelicot himself, who invited them all into his marital bedroom, where he had his wife waiting, drugged and naked, and who joined in and filmed it all. Pelicot, 71, crumpled and fat now, but with a residual bulky power, sits sullenly alone with his guard in a separate glass box, protected from the other men who blame and detest him. Often after lunch he appears to doze off.

Such nondescript men. Grizzled, middle-aged (the mean is 47 years old), smart-casual in windcheaters or leather jackets and their best trainers, like minicab drivers waiting for fares. Ordinary men in many respects, not vagrants, junkies or career criminals. This week’s seven includes a fireman, an electrician and a journalist; several are fathers, two were keen weightlifters, one bred dogs. French trials helpfully begin with a personality profile formed from interviews with the men, their friends and colleagues. Poverty, domestic violence and mental breakdowns feature, but also that a man is “kind” or “gentle”, had a lovely childhood, adored his grandparents or is devoted to his mum.

Yet each one had sex with an unconscious woman, that is beyond doubt, thanks to Pelicot’s camera mounted on a tripod beside the bed, and by his own admission. “I am a rapist,” he has declared, “like the others in this room.”

From the Pelicot affair have come demands for reform to French rape law, for sexual violence to be treated more seriously, for an investigation into “chemical submission” — the coercive use of sedatives. But one question overshadows all others. How many men would have done the same? If Pelicot could recruit at least 70 willing participants (a number could not be identified) within a 25-mile radius of Mazan, the Provençal town where the couple retired, how many in the whole of France? As I walk through Avignon with Juliette Campion of radio station France Info, who bears the strain of reporting this case since September, she gestures to a bureau de tabac: “You think, ‘Would a guy in there have raped Gisèle? Or men in the boulangerie or those on the street?’ Women are looking at men differently: they’re asking, ‘Could you or you or you?’ ”

On the right of the court, behind her counsel of three serious, dark-haired young men, is Gisèle Pelicot with her female companion from victim support, leaning on the wall, as far from the men as the room allows, but facing her ex-husband. Her composure is remarkable. Although clearly tired and strained, she retains a quiet vivacity reflected in her clothes. Instead of shrinking away in black, she dresses each day as if meeting friends for drinks on a sunny terrace. A chic scarf, a faux fur bag, patent leather boots. Clothes that say, “I still have a life.” Every evening, when women line up to clap her out of court, she speaks to them warmly, neither reticent nor relishing the attention. Every day she walks through the cobbled streets past graffiti saying, “Gisèle, les femmes te remercient” (Gisèle, women thank you) to lunch at the same excellent brasserie, and people turn to gaze at her in awe.

The extraordinary woman who refused to be silenced

The humiliations of Gisèle Pelicot have a mythic quality. This is a woman who discovered the man she married aged 20, with whom she had three children and seven grandchildren, waited until she was deeply asleep before removing her pyjamas, dressing her in “sexy” underwear or writing on her buttocks, “I am a good submissive bitch,” then he let a stranger penetrate her inert body, filmed it, washed her intimately and replaced her pyjamas. This is a woman who thought she was going insane, had Alzheimer’s or a brain tumour, whose children thought she was dying, who stopped driving and going out alone, who slept all day and once woke puzzled why her hair was shorter. “But madame,” said her hairdresser, “you came in yesterday.” This is a woman who had mysterious gynaecological problems, including a swollen cervix (and still lives with four STDs), who thought her husband wonderful for accompanying her to medical tests, including an MRI.

This is a woman who, when her husband was arrested for “upskirting” in a Leclerc supermarket and police found the contents of his phone, discovered her whole 50-year marriage was a travesty, that he’d raped her in a service station car park, on Valentine’s Day and on her 66th birthday, and may have raped their daughter too. This is a woman who has listened to legal arguments about whether a man put his tongue inside or merely kissed her vagina, who heard another man say he’d only returned to rape her a second time because he couldn’t find anyone better, who sits in a courtroom while three giant TV screens show clips of her body being coldly humped by yet another “ordinary” guy.

Yet this is a woman who gathered up every scrap of her humiliation and with it constructed a mirror that she holds up defiantly to the court and to French society itself. “Shame must change sides,” she said, and in insisting the entire trial be conducted openly, that the worst men can do to women is witnessed by the whole world, she has done exactly that.

I ask many women I meet in Avignon how men in their lives regard the accused. They say they call them losers and freaks, that these are men on the margins, with no relation to themselves. But, along with the testimony I hear, the people I talk to believe this case raises many questions about French sexual mores. Whatever the decision later this month by five judges — there is no jury — Gisèle Pelicot will never be forgotten.

The court turns to Christian L, a fireman with a straggly castaway beard, who speaks from the glass box because after he was arrested, police found 4,000 child sex abuse and zoophilic images on his hard drive. We hear from his girlfriend, Sylvie, a small blonde in a grey hoodie, who says he’s a wonderful man, and is suspected of destroying evidence. Christian L recalls the victims he watched die in fires, the coffins of 11 colleagues he carried, the mental breakdowns that ensued. He was married but after his two daughters were born says he went off sex with his wife and turned to libertinisme. Strange, I think, that the French have coined this noble, philosophical concept, with its whiff of the barricades, to describe what we call swinging or dogging.

Like all the men, Christian met Pelicot through coco.fr — the murky, unmoderated site since closed down and now the focus of many major police investigations — on a forum called À son insu (without her knowledge). Christian L had already enjoyed “Sleeping Beauty” encounters with ten other couples. He spells out the rules: that you only dealt with the husband, sending him photos for approval, and during the sexual encounter he ran the show. Sometimes the wife woke up, other times not. How did he know, asked Gisèle’s lawyer, Stéphane Babonneau, that she consented?

“In a libertine encounter,” Christian L explained, “it is the husband’s responsibility to ensure consent.”

But how could you be sure?

“Are we expected to sign a contract?” Christian L spluttered.

“You could ask the woman,” Babonneau suggested.

How the case could change French law

Given the overwhelming video evidence, the defendants can only claim Pelicot deceived or drugged them, or they believed Gisèle was collaborating in a game. If this case were before a British court, rape would be decided by two tests: whether Gisèle had “capacity to consent” (tough to argue given Pelicot admits to drugging her) and whether the men had “reasonable belief” in her consent. Unlike most European countries, French rape law has no concept of consent. Rather, it is defined as penetration “by violence, constraint, threat or surprise”. (The prosecution case rests on a convoluted definition of surprise.)

But rather than demand consent be added to the law, French feminists are divided. Some agree with President Macron, who supports change; many others argue that consent would put the onus on the victim to prove her conduct was not an invitation. This seems an odd objection, especially as the whole purpose of the video evidence is to show no one could believe Gisèle capable of consent, given she was so lifeless one man asked Pelicot, “Is your wife dead?”

Alice Géraud is the author of Sambre, an investigation into how, due to the indifference and cruelty of police, a caretaker called Dino Scala in northern France managed to rape 54 women over a period of 30 years. “The Pelicot case with 50 defendants and one victim feels a strange inverse of Sambre.”

Géraud believes the Pelicot affair could provide the same impetus for change as a famous 1974 case of two Belgian tourists, Anne-Marie Tonglet and Aracelli Castellano, who, camping near Marseilles, were brutally raped by three local men. As was normal practice, the crime was downgraded from felony to misdemeanour on the basis the victims eventually stopped resisting. But the women, a lesbian couple, persisted and thanks to their feminist lawyer, Gisèle Halimi, it became the first rape case to be heard in the higher assizes court. Like Gisèle Pelicot, the women waived their anonymity. “We believe that it’s one thing for a man to rape,” said Halimi, “and another to know it’ll get around his village, his work, the papers.” Shame changed sides: the men were jailed and the French criminal code was rewritten defining rape as a serious offence.

For Géraud, the greatest current injustice is that whether a man has raped one women or 50, the maximum sentence is 20 years (here a serial rapist can be jailed for life). “This is law made by men,” she says, “with a grave lack of knowledge of rape culture.” She is scornful too about libertinisme as a universal excuse for male sexual exploitation. “Libertinisme was why Coco existed for so long,” she says. “It is the justification for prostitution, for the porn industry.”

Charly A is the youngest of all the defendants, just 22 when he first entered the Pelicot house. Small, bearded, now 30, we learn his childhood was chaotic, his father an alcoholic, his mother had many sexual partners; there are hints of abuse. “This is a family of secrets,” concludes the personality profiler. A psychiatrist adds he is immature, struggles to sustain relationships and instead consumes porn, “especially the Milf [Mother I’d like to f***] category with mature women”. In 2016, he made contact with Pelicot via Coco: “He said his wife would be lying there pretending to be asleep, he doesn’t tell me more.”

Over time Pelicot asks Charly if he knows anyone they could drug for sex and he proffers the only woman in his life — his own mother. Pelicot gives him pills (which Charly claims to have thrown away), shows him how to crush them, keeps pressing him to use them. “When can I come and we f*** your mother?” he asks in one video, but Charly keeps stalling, saying his brother is at home. Yet he returns to violate Gisèle, always with Pelicot, once with another man, a total of six times. “Did you feel like you were in a porn film?” asks Babonneau. Charly shakes his head.

Until this point, very late in the trial, the influence of internet pornography has barely been explored. The court only notes paedophiliac images, not “normal” usage. Yet Mathieu Lacambre, a psychiatrist who evaluates Charly A, remarks how porn sites not only push users to more extreme content but to enact porn fantasies in real life. “Until now Charly A was behind the screens,” he says. “Now [in Gisèle] he has an object served up on a platter a few miles from home. The sleeping princess Milf, voilà.”

A rented home in a quiet cul-de-sac

I drive out to Mazan, a lovely honey-stoned French village set in the vineyards below Mont Ventoux, where the Pelicots retired from Villiers-sur-Marne, a Paris commuter town where he was electrician and she was a manager at EDF. I imagine Gisèle browsing the little boutique, dropping into the beauty salon, sipping an aperitif outside the bistro. The home they rented for ten years is five minutes away in a quiet cul-de-sac of four houses behind tall cypress trees. It is lemon yellow with blue shutters, a pool, a very prominent alarm system, and new tenants. Given how many men knew her address, Gisèle fled four years ago for her own safety, with just a suitcase and her dog.

Today an immense cloud of migrating starlings swoops over the house like pixels in a photograph. This was where their grandchildren loved to visit in the summer, but also the centre of Dominique Pelicot’s porn operation. For what else was this grotesque man but a pornographic auteur?

We leave our car, just as Pelicot instructed the men, in the sports ground car park, by the bottle bank. I think of them texting their arrival, then creeping down the lane. (One man made his girlfriend wait in the car.) Pelicot would meet them at the door by the light of his phone, tell them to undress in the dark living room and warm their hands on a radiator. (They’d been instructed to be clean, not smell of cigarettes or wear cologne.) Then they were led into a bedroom with a TV, a chest of drawers, a bed with a naked Gisèle motionless on white sheets, and a mounted camera.

Whatever followed next was carefully orchestrated by Pelicot, a director urging on actors in stage whispers, since the objective was to do what they desired without waking Gisèle. Pelicot would tell them how and when to penetrate her, or hold his wife’s gaping mouth to facilitate oral sex. Given four Temesta (lorazepam), a powerful anti-anxiety drug he’d crushed into her wine or ice cream, his wife was like a patient on an operating table. Even so, if her arm gave an involuntary spasm,the men would scuttle from the room. A friend who has sat through many court videos says it was Pelicot ordering the humping men to go doucement — softly — that upset her, since she knew this was not out of tenderness for Gisèle.

All the while the camera rolled. Why did these men agree to have their crimes recorded? They say it was part of the deal, that Pelicot told them Gisèle was shy and liked to watch the sex later. But perhaps also because, in taking part, these men were promoted from porn consumers to creators. Filming was central to their fantasy. When Christian L finally climaxes he turns to give the camera a cheery thumbs-up.

For Pelicot, each film added to his oeuvre. Police discovered a carefully curated archive of 20,000 images and videos on hard drives and memory sticks showing 200 rapes. He gave each film a title like “Squirt on the ass”, “Cock in mouth” or “Jacques fingering”. This man, once caught by his daughter-in-law masturbating at his computer, was now a porn impresario.

The question at the centre of the case

Why did Pelicot do all this to a wife he professed to love, whom he called “a saint”? Was it to punish Gisèle for an affair early in their marriage (although he was serially unfaithful himself)? Or because when he’d asked her to join him in the libertinisme scene she’d refused — so he devised a way to make her. But Gisèle was not his first victim: Pelicot has admitted to the rape of an estate agent, using ether to drug her, in 1999, and will be tried for the rape/murder of another young estate agent, Sophie Narme, in 1991. The French police cold case bureau is investigating his possible links to many other unsolved crimes.

But as the “Without her knowledge” forum suggests, his was not a unique fantasy. The Pelicot case has illuminated the issue of “chemical submission”, not only drinks being spiked by strangers in bars, but drugs used to control partners within relationships. The French health service is noted for being blasé about prescribing heavy-duty medications, which is how Pelicot stockpiled his vast stash of Temesta.

Documentary-maker Linda Bendali has made a film for French TV about chemical submission, featuring seven cases, including a 13-year-old girl drugged by her father with medicine supposedly for her allergies, put in lingerie and raped over two years, and a 60-year-old woman drugged then raped at home by a man she was mentoring at work. “I’ve looked back at 30 years of press reports of rape,” says Bendali, “which includes dozens of women saying they woke up — mainly with men they know— unable to remember what happened.”

The Sleeping Beauty scenario, she says, is not merely a means for a man to get easy sexual access, but a way to enjoy absolute domination. “You are not even giving her the chance to consent,” says Bendali. “You can do anything you want to a drugged woman, for as long as you want. You can dress her how you want. These men want total power.” Pelicot is typical in filming his crimes: “Pictures are trophies. He was driven by a mix of desires for blackmail and voyeurism.”

Gisèle’s daughter, Caroline Darian, who was also drugged and photographed naked by her father, is heading a campaign on chemical submission, demanding police take samples of hair from rape victims, the only way sedation can be proved.

In court, I hear another psychiatrist tasked with assessing whether each of the final seven defendants has the profile of a sexual abuser. One by one, he exonerates the men, saying they are not dangerous or likely to reoffend, to the growing exasperation of Gisèle’s team. Then he reaches Charly A. “He doesn’t search [for victims] systematically,” says the psychiatrist. “He’s not a predator.” Finally, Babonneau explodes: “Six times with a sleeping woman and he’s not a sexual abuser?” The men do not identify as rapists because, like this psychiatrist, they define rape as frenzied sexual violence, not an opportunistic act performed to whispers in a private home. As one defendant put it, “It’s her husband, his house, his room, his bed, his wife.”

Women unite in the town of Mazan

Both in religious and political terms, Mazan is a conservative town: for 500 years it was part of a papal enclave and in the recent French election voted heavily for Marine Le Pen. Villagers regarded the Pelicot case with horror and sympathy which turned quickly to resentment when press named it l’affaire Mazan. Amid longstanding families who’ve known each other for generations, the Pelicots were outsiders who’d brought disgrace into a rural community. Tired of inquiries, the mayor, Louis Bonnet, 74, told the BBC, “It could have been far more serious. There were no kids involved. No women were killed.”

At the Lucky Horse Ranch outside Mazan, women victims of sexual violence receive equine therapy. I’m sceptical at first about how grooming and riding horses could help rape victims, but somehow these large, placid animals are calming and restorative. Here I meet Latika, 33, who at first was too timid to touch a Shetland pony, but now sits high on a saddle for our photograph.

Latika was separating from her husband, the father of her two children, but still sharing a house. He was violent, hitting her daughters, putting her in hospital with cuts and a broken rib. Two years after they’d last had sex, she woke to find him inside her. She believes the sweet tea he often gave her was laced with sedatives, but that night she hadn’t drunk it all. She realised he’d been drugging her for years — her mother recalls finding her deeply unconscious early in her relationship — and, worse, she was pregnant with a third child. She told the police, who addressed the domestic violence but ignored the rape. Her husband fled to Guadeloupe and she was left traumatised, fearful of leaving the house.

“I didn’t feel people really believed what had happened to me until Gisèle Pelicot spoke out,” says Latika, who has since made the police reopen her case. In October, as women across France holding white flowers protested in support of Gisèle, Latika headed the local march into Mazan and the next day Gisèle herself visited the ranch. “She said it is almost unbearable to return to this place where terrible things happened,” says Latika, “but she wanted to thank us. She told me, ‘I didn’t know the meaning of my life before this happened — but I do now.’ ”

Watching Gisèle take such sustenance from her supporters, you wonder how she will cope when the trial finally ends. She is writing a book and could, if she chose, become a global campaigner. “There is something particularly powerful,” says Linda Bendali, “about her being an older woman — she represents all our mothers. All generations identify with her.” But those close to Gisèle say that, at 72, she may just return to a quiet life of friends, grandchildren and her garden, in the secret location where she now lives.

But she is already an icon of courage for the women who come from across France and beyond just to watch the trial on a screen in an overspill room. Some want to witness history, a few enjoy the sensational evidence like tricoteuses at the guillotine, but many have risen at 5am, taking a day off work, to support a woman they deeply admire. Marion Spiteri and Amélie Planche, both 24 and law graduates, feel the case opened their eyes. “How can it be,” Spiteri says, “that so many men did this without her consent?” “It is terrifying,” Planche adds, “that a woman cannot even trust her own husband.” They tell me, astonishingly, that neither they nor their friends ever go to the toilet in a bar or club alone.

But then the nation of libertinisme lags behind in its attitude to violence against women. Until 2021, France did not even have an age of consent, effectively decriminalising even incestuous relations between children and adults, allowing several high-profile child abusers, including firemen who groomed a 13-year-old girl, to evade rape charges. Each time a prominent Frenchman is accused of rape — whether politician Dominique Strauss-Kahn or, currently, actor Gerard Dépardieu — famous French actresses leap to defend him. This is the nation that convicted child rapist Roman Polanski fled to from America, and is still fêted. The #MeToo movement was regarded by many as a wave of Anglosphere prudishness, contrary to the spirit of French seduction. So what can the Pelicot trial achieve?

I meet feminists from Les Amazones d’Avignon, the creators of graffiti across the city supporting Gisèle. (So as not to spoil the city walls, they write slogans on paper that can be removed.) Their latest reads “20 ans pour chacun” — 20 years for each one. I suggest a drink in a café nearby: “Not in there,” says one Amazone, “that’s where all the rapists go.” Blandine Deverlanges, 56, is part of the Coalition Féministe Loi Intégrale putting 130 proposals about sexual violence before the French parliament, including a ban on lawyers harassing victims in court. They are disgusted the defence asked Gisèle why she swam naked in her own swimming pool.

“This is a trial,” says Deverlanges, “of one extraordinary man, the monster Pelicot, and many ordinary men.” And as we talk I see a group of them emerge nervously from their favoured café and head back to the court. A collective noun for rapists? A violation, a banality, a shame.

(archive)

[expelliarmus444]

If texting were a thing in the 1890s: pt 2

Ominis: STOP LEAVING YOUR BOOKS ON THE FLOOR. I TRIPPED ON ONE AND I ALMOST DROPPED MY CROISSANT. Sebastian: that wasn't me Ominis: okay dumbass then who was it Sebastian: idk wasn't me tho Ominis: stop playing dumb rn ik you did it Sebastian: did you see me do it? Ominis:... Sebastian: yea that's what i thought Ominis: i'm calling the ministry and reporting you Sebastian: WAIT NO

Sebastian: hey MC, meet me by the lake in our spot. i've got something special planned for you. all you have to bring is your beautiful gorgeous face (for me to kiss. don't tell Ominis tho) Anne: uhm...wrong number???? Sebastian: fuck Anne: IM TELLING OMINIS

Ominis: why am i hearing from your sister dearest that you're kissing MC??? Sebastian: i'm not, she made that up Ominis: good Sebastian: why? Ominis: i don't support you threatening people with such heinous acts of violence Sebastian: you have been SO RUDE to me all week what is the problem Ominis: STOP LEAVING UR BOOKS ON THE FLOOR

MC: have you heard from Sebastian? Anne: Unfortunately yes MC: LOL where is he??? Anne: kissing some girl by the lake, so i hear MC: oh...he told you that? Anne: much to my dismay. you should ask him about it.

MC: YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND??? Sebastian: Wait what MC: i heard from Anne Sebastian: wait she told you?? MC: about the lake?? yeah Sebastian: shit well this isn't how i wanted this to go MC: you're priceless. seriously. wtf. Sebastian: aw, that's so sweet thank u

Sebastian: MC is my girlfriend now :) Ominis: excuse me??? Sebastian: yeah long story basically kinda all happened thru text but she knows about the lake so i'm waiting for her here Ominis: if she's your girlfriend then why is she with me rn, mad at you??? Sebastian: Ominis get your meaty claws off of my girl she's MINE Ominis: then why is she telling me that you are with someone else????? she's all upset about your secret girlfriend Sebastian: wait Sebastian: okay so i'm either dumb and i fucked this up or she's just confused Ominis: the first one. Sebastian: woah woah woah why are you so confident about that??? Ominis: because overall, in general, you are dumb. Sebastian: that's it, i'm signing us up for couples therapy. Ominis: you and MC? Sebastian: no Sebastian: me and you.

[quaintii]

Miguel Imagine Part 2

Gif taken from TikTok @almenhenn, not mine. Please check it out!

dom!Miguel x fem!reader

(long fic) :3

Contents: rough sex, choking, hair pulling, slapping, breeding kink, bdsm, oral sex, angry sex, degradation kink, praise kink, angry sex, mating press sex position, sexual tension, mirror sex, nelson position, masturbation, sex toy, fang kink, sir kink, etc.

MDNI.

a/n: sorry if this is quite long, just trying to feed u hungry miguel whores (aka me) this gon be nastyy

~

You were too anxious to go to his office, but you had to. Every Spider man/woman had to submit in their reports at least every week to Miguel or Lyla because it was a mandatory checkup. You haven’t seen him since that incident, it runs through your mind constantly. You sometimes use your vibrator to relieve yourself of that immense need that you crave so desperately

~Tonight you were pulsing throughout the whole day. You couldn’t stop aching for his touch, you want to go on your knees and beg for him to tease you, to use you like a fucking slut.

You turn on your vibrator and place it on top of your clothed clit, imagining it was his hands opening your folds whilst licking your slickness.

“F-fuck..this feels so painful..” Despite the vibrator making you jerk and twitch and spwel a couple of loud moans, it didn’t feel enough. You really wished he hadn’t stopped that day. You pushed two fingers inside your wet cunt, dragging them in and out slowly while poking that soft spot that made you mewl.

”M-miguel, fuck…I want your cock inside of my pussy..please fuck me until I can’t w-walk..” You say as you start reaching your climax. Your cunt clenching hardly on your fingers as the vibrator finally made your clit release that sweet sensation through your system. You started twitching and moaning, still not removing your vibrator off your clit so you could overstimulate yourself. “Nghnmf..please fill me with your cum Miguel..” You mewl. You then approach your second orgasm, making you hold in your breath and your heartbeat fastening and pulsing loud in your ears, feeling the blood rushing.

You arched your back and rested your head on your pillow, grabbing onto your sheets and palming them on your mouth to prevent you from screaming ecstasy. You then try to steady your breath back in order as you stare directly at your ceiling. Once again, disgusted because you just masturbated about your boss. But you had yet wanted a taste of him.

Today was the day. Your weekly checkup. Unfortunately, Lyla was offline so you couldn’t submit it to her so you had to face him.

As you were getting ready, you dolled yourself a bit but not too excessively to the point someone would weirdly point out. You wore a professional blazer dress with small heels, but allowed your cleavage to pop out a bit. Teasing him was your favorite thing to do. You began approaching his office.

Your heels tapping on the floor, causing echoes to spread across the huge room. Miguel was looking through the perspective cams at the top of his floating floor, you always thought it was stupid that he would slowly go down. “C’mon Miguel, I seriously don’t have all day for you to make this ‘entrance.’ You place two fingers on your nose bridge, sighing. “Should I remind you who makes the rules around here again? I don’t understand what gives you so much balls to talk to me like you command me.” He rolls his eyes at you. “Don’t be so egotistical, Mig..you have to stop being so full of yourself. Work on that. Here are the files, take a look through them and I’ll get going,” Miguel hums and looks back and forth at the files and your face.

“Me? Being full of myself?” He chuckles with a smirk. “How about you work on not looking like a total whore.” You audibly gasp as soon as he blurts out that word. Whore.

"I am one of your employees, you should respect me! I can’t handle your awful behavior sometimes, you’re so annoying.” You say.

“What makes you think that I also can’t fucking stand you whenever you open that fucking mouth of yours?!” He says angrily as he approaches closer to you, towering you. “You really need to be taught manners because you can’t seem to behave.” He glances at your breasts, a shaky sigh leaving his lips.

Miguel is trying his best to restrain himself from breaking you right now because you just look so vulnerable, he wants to take that smug look of yours off your face. Replacing it with him thrusting deep into you, making you not be able to even think a coherent thought.

The way his suit would perfectly shape around his muscles had you pool more into arousal. There was a loud silence between the both of you and you dared not to speak. “I thought you were going to keep up with that bratty attitude? Where’d it go?” He snickered. “Shut the fuck up, Miguel. Forget it, I’m leaving.” You turn your back to face the door, being completely covered in red webs. “Let me out you weird fuck!”

”You see, I’m so frustrated how you always seem to stress me whenever you come inside of this office. You’re going to regret being a fucking brat and learn some manners ‘round here, ‘kay?” Your back hitting the door, your breath hitches as Miguel struts towards you. You try running an opposite direction til you feel a web grab around your waist and place you on a chair.

Your hands now tied up behind your back and your legs separated, also tied to the chair. “L-let me go..now.” You spurt out. “Why should I? I can smell something that says the exact opposite.” He gets closer to your face, lowering himself to your level. “I mean you arrive in that dress of yours to tease me again? Do you even understand how badly I want to rip it off your body?” You shiver a bit from his cold tone. “I’m s–sorry Mig.” Miguel grabs your chin harshly. “Don’t call me that.” His chest heaving a bit more noticeably.

You aruptably gasp as he suddenly spreads your legs, his face getting closer to your clothed cunt. He nibbles and licks your outer thigh. You try not to give him satisfaction and hold in your whines. “You’re still being a brat? Let me hear you, carino. Todavía no vas hacer caso?” (You're still not going to behave?) He presses two fingers against your clit, rubbing it slowly. He rips off your panties and licks your wetness with his warm tongue. You still refuse to let out your moans, you resisted the urge to give in even though you desperately wanted to.

”No seas asi, tesoro. No te va encantar lo que te voy hacer si me vuelves ignorar. Quiero escuchar tu sonidos bellos.” (Don't be like that, love. You're not going to like it if you ignore me again. I want to hear your sweet sounds.) He swirled his tongue on your clit and spread your folds with his girthy fingers. Miguel loved seeing you squirm and still attempt to hide your mewls. He rapidly slid in two fingers inside your cunt. You finally let out a choked groan that’s been awaiting to be released from your aching throat.

”Fu-fuck..m-more Miguel.. touch me please.” You whine. “No tan rápido, mi reina.” He slurs as he places his hot mouth onto your pussy. Two fingers inside of you, being pulled in and out in a fast pace while his thumb massaged your clit and his tongue nibbling on your folds.

You lean your head back, accepting into submission. You wanted to cum around his fingers, for him to feel how good he makes you feel and how your cunt would clench so tight around his cock. Miguel rips off your clothes right off your frame, leaving you fully exposed in front of him. His voice groaned as he has a clear view of your curvy body. He moves his head up to suck on your nipples, pushing his tongue on your nipple causing you to twitch. His face was a mix of arousal and anger that still lingered. He moved his fingers slightly quicker, keeping a solid pace.

You felt like you were going to come, the pleasure felt so good and you were yet so needy for more. “Please Mig…make me cum..I can’t hold it in anymore.” You whined. “Please.. I can’t-“ You sobbed, the only thing keeping you in place being his hard grasp on your left hip.

“Please what?” You could feel him grinding against you as his fingers fucked you silly. No matter how badly he wanted to be inside you, he almost prepped you for him. He knew how big he was and how much he could destroy you.

His fingers only went even faster when you said that while he rested his head on your shoulder. He sunk his fangs deep inside your flesh, causing you to spring up and release your orgasm. Your screams and whines echo in the room, begging for him to stop because it was just too much for you. “I thought you could handle this..fuck..”

Your body was overtaken by a wave of electricity flowing through your veins. Your body shaking and your cunt throbbing. Your vision is blurred out with tears. You’ve never felt so breathless. Miguel loved how your pussy spasmed and clenched so tight on his fingers. He pulled out his fingers and sucked them clean. Seeing that explicit look of him only made you want more. “You taste so fucking good, so sweet. You’re such a fucking good girl for cumming around my fingers.” He whispers as he presses his lips onto yours. Both of your tongues are destroying each other, the both of you becoming breathless.

Miguel removed the webs tied around you and placed you right on top of his table. You look at him through your teary lashes, your mouth agape. “I want to taste you Miguel, I want to taste your fucking cock around my throat.” That alone was enough for Miguel to force you down onto your knees and slam his cock inside of your warm throat. You choke around his sudden thrusts pick up fast. Your tongue swirls around his length, taking all of him in your mouth. “Your mouth is made just for me, only mine. You’re such a dirty whore, taking me all like a fucking slut..” He groan and his head rolls back.

His hands run along your hair, grabbing it to push you deeper onto his cock. Small tears trickling past your cheeks. The gurgling and slurping you were making made Miguel harden, along with small whimper sounds parting from Miguel’s lips were the only noise around you both, it just made you even wetter.

You loved how his cock would repeatedly twitch inside your throat, so you hollow your cheeks which make him loudly groan and jerk his hips harder.

Your moans would make his cock feel so fucking amazing as it would make your mouth clench around his cock. He looked down at you, seeing how good of a slut you were taking him. He loved seeing you under him like this, taking him so well he thought. You clawed your fingernails deep into thighs, tapping on them so you could take a chance to catch your breath. “Miguel, please just put it in..” You moaned, reaching back to swirl your hands around his tip, getting a lovely groan out of him. You lowered your head on to him once more, teasing his tip with your tongue as your right hand pumped his cock all the way from the base to your mouth. You kept a close eye on him though, making sure he didn’t cum.

He immediately removed your mouth from his cock. That’s when you felt his bare cock teasing your entrance, covering himself in you. His voice was low and husky, laced with want. “I’m going to fill this pretty pussy of yours.”

Miguel didn’t want to cum inside of your mouth, he wanted to pump his hot cum deep inside your womb. He wanted to breed you like an animal. He quickly pulled you back up from your knees, placing your legs on his shoulders. You were now in a mating press position. He slammed his hips against yours, reaching your cervix.

Miguel could get a perfect view of his dick aligned with your warm cunt, how your cunt would suck him perfectly. Your eyebrows furrowed as you cried out, taken back by his cock pounding up into you. You slumped down, resting your head on his shoulder, to cock drunk to do anything else. "F-Fuck you're so good at this!" You shriek when he had his fingers pinching each of your nipples as he bit on the soft spot of your neck.

"Mm, I know, cariño." The way he whispered in your ear made you shiver above him. You held onto his arms but at some point Miguel slipped one arm down, rubbing your clit to increase the tension as he thrusted deep inside you. You were so cock-drunk, you couldn’t let out any word besides moans.

Miguel altered your positions so you were now facing a mirror. “You like it, huh, cariño?" He growled as his pace fastened deeper into your cunt. The sight of him fucking you in the mirror drove you crazy, crazy that you were clenching so tight - “You’re my little dirty slut aren’t you, muñeca?” "Yes sir, I love your cock inside of my f-fucking pussy..."

"Say that one more time and I'll have you screaming my name. He said dangerously.

"Please sir. Let me…" He pulled away from you and flipped you over so you were now underneath him. Still in front of the mirror, MIguel grabbed your throat, pulling it so you could arch your back.

Miguel moaned as you clenched your walls around him, the feeling of heat as your bodies collided driving you crazy. Your nails scratching at nothing but the floor. He plants his lips onto your sensitive neck, leaving it bruised for later.

Each thrust deepens, stronger and more irresistible. Miguel wrapped his hands around your neck, making you choke but excited at the same time. You looked in the mirror to see Miguel in such an erotic position on top of you. It was hot. Your walls clenching around him makes Miguel stutter his hips against your back, finally painting your plushy walls, white. The overwhelming feeling leaving you completely breathless, your body twitching and moving without your control. Your chest heaving heavily as you gasped for air. You eventually pass out.

~

You wake up to a warm feeling spreading across your body. You open your eyes hazily, turning your head towards Miguel who's massaging your back with oil. You let out a soft groan, it felt so relieving. You haven't been this relaxed since..ever. "Estás despierta muñeca?" (You're awake, doll?) You hum, resting your face on the pillow. "Hope you liked it." Miguel chuckled. "You left me with numb legs so I loved it. Gracias, Miguel." (Thank you, Miguel.) You say. "Te nada, mi vida." (Your welcome, my love.) The tension between of you finally cleared and your relationship grew closer than ever.

Taglist: @spid3rslvt @horror-cassettes @cl-0-vr @mars-yyy

<3

[jrow]

May Prompt (18)

Day 17 here. Start at the beginning here. Day 19 here.

Blanket

The blanket looks absolutely ridiculous.

She pulls it tighter around her shoulders and looks around anxiously. She has a part to play and she’s playing it well. He expected no less.

He sighs. It’s time to play his part in this charade so they can get the hell out of here.

“Darling,” he says, tucking his umbrella under his arms as runs towards the ambulance, knitting his brow to show his concern. “I came as soon as I could. How are you?”

They make eye contact and for a split second he can see how amused she is at his display. But then the mask returns and she looks on the verge of tears.

“I am okay, love,” she says shakily. “It was awful. That poor man. I just want to go home.” She turns to the paramedic whose standing off to the side, pretending not to eavesdrop. “Can I go?”

The man looks back sympathetically. “As long as you won’t be alone. The police will call if they have any questions about your statement. You have the card for the trauma counseler?”

“Yes, thank you,” she says. She sounds so damn genuine.

“Let’s go,” he says with a nod to the paramedic. Right now it’s just the paramedics and one constable on the scene. They need to get out of here before someone arrives that would actually recognize him.

He wraps his arm around her and she leans into his chest as they walk. She’s also gently stroking the atrocious orange blanket draped over her shoulder as if it’s keeping her tethered.

“Calling an ambulance for a man that had bred dead for, how long?” He asks once they are out of earshot.

“At least 6 hours,” she replies, her voice back to its usual strength. She continues leaning into him, although the stroking has stopped. Who knows if someone is watching their retreat. “Calling in the cavalry was an unfortunate necessity.”

“Someone caught you placing the body,” he says. It isn’t a guess.

“Yes. Restaurant owner taking out the trash. I was almost done too.” She sighs. “It was easy enough to feign that I just happened on the body and was traumatized. It was in a sorry state.”

“When did you actually happen on the body?”

She looks up at . “An hour ago. Agent H reported Larkin hadn’t been seen or heard from in several hours. So, I paid him a visit.” She wrinkles her nose. “There were rats. It was disgusting.”

“Overdose, I take it?”

“I think so.”

“And the move?”

“H got word Larkin’s girlfriend got off work early. Takes her between 28 and 34 minutes to get home on an average day. H thought the search would be faster without Larkin in the flat. Plus, it buys us a bit of time before people figure out Larkin is dead.”

“I assume there will be no ID found on the body?”

They turn a corner and she immediately pulls away. “Of course not. What kind of amateur do you take me for?” she says with faux offence before tossing the shock blanket on the pavement. “Glad to be rid of that.” She pulls a mobile out of her pocket. “A gift. H’s team is already working on it but I know how you like to go through for yourself.”

He takes the phone and pockets it before opening the back door of the car waiting for them. “Thank you. After you,” he says, letting her enter the car first. “Any highlights?” He asks as he slides into the seat beside her.

“Larkin had never been hired for murder before agreeing to off Watson. At least not in the messages read so far. Never used injections before either. Usually he just makes threats or breaks a leg or two. Had several tire irons in the flat. Some ‘used’ so to speak. Explains why he bunged up the assassination attempt.” She leans her head back. “Still don’t have a name for who made the hire, but several messages note that Larkin owed him big favour. It’s a thread to follow.”

“Was there any pre-payment?”

“Some rings. Likely from one of the jewellery store thefts.” She pulls out her own mobile and looks at the screen. “Looks like they were from Boodles, which was hit a couple of weeks ago. There were 6 rings in the flat worth about 50 thousand pounds total. Bespoke pieces. Would be difficult to sell without being flagged unless you knew the right people.”

“Hmmm,” he says. Larkin didn’t know the right people. Maybe their jewel thief didn’t either.

The sit in silence for a moment. She closes her eyes as if relaxing, but she’s tapping her fingers on the leather between them.

“Will you be telling your brother?” She asks eventually. He bristles at the accusation in her tone despite the fact that it’s entirely warranted.

“No,” he says, brusquely. It’s the truth. None of this information would be particularly helpful at this stage anyways. But soon, they should have something more concrete on whoever hired Mr. Larkin. Even then, he won’t tell Sherlock anything.

John on the other hand …

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @quimerasyutopias @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty

[bratbby333]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [ blog update ! ] ࿐ྂ

+ some housekeeping and info on new writing

hello my loves !! i wanted to give y'all some insight on what's been going on in my mind palace lately. there's a lot...so...cmon, take a walk w me...and maybe bring some snacks.

ੈ♡˳ first and foremost ! my work has received a lot more attention recently and i am so excited. with actual tears in my eyes, im happy to report that i surpassed 1,000 followers the other day. i am at a loss for words...just...stuck in a perma-state of disbelief.

im sending out the biggest thank you to everyone who has supported me, who's interacted with my work, to the lovely friends ive made though this account and to the heartbreakingly beautiful anime that brought me here in the first place. i am genuinely in awe...overwhelmed, even...i didn't expect any of this to happen when i started this blog and i am forever indebted to all of you for getting me here. im actively fighting off the inevitable surge of imposter syndrome as i type this out...i just love y'all so fucking much. this community means the world to me and i wanna scream at the top of my lungs in order to demonstrate my deepest appreciation for each and every one of y'all.

ੈ♡˳ secondly ! a message for my little angel babies, my day one followers; thank you for taking a chance on me. for watching me grow. for sticking around as i worked to get better at writing. im sure a lot of you started following me for my gamer!bf sukuna series...trust me, i love him and i know y'all do too. but i feel like my writing is heading in a different direction...and with a heavy heart, i'm absolutely gutted when i say that i am taking a pause on that series. i am forever grateful for the support and may return to him soon, though i cannot promise that. i owe so much of what my account is now to that series and i will never forget that.

for everyone who joined me as i delved into dark/dead dove content, thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me a safe space to explore different forms of story-telling. my choso fic was the first stepping stone and then i skipped every other stone on the path and jumped head first into the deep end with my dead dove gojo fic...i deeply appreciate all the positive feedback i received on both of those. after posting them, i realized that i am very into writing dark content. i know that taboo themes/dark content/dead dove subject matter isn't for everyone and i understand people's apprehension in regards to it. but with that being said, i will be moving forward with publishing darker content.

ੈ♡˳ so here's the writing update !

i did a poll asking y'all what kind of content you enjoy. a good chunk of people said long form fics (which is great, cause i do too !! mommy needs plot). so, i am migrating away from one shot writing. both because i've been thinking about it for awhile and because y'all are into longer stories, as well. but fear not, i will still write shorter stuff along with headcannons, drabbles, etc...it just won't be the main focus of my blog anymore.

ੈ♡˳ now, time for the big reveal ! perhaps it's a bit anticlimactic, but bear with me...

im so excited to announce that i have two new series coming ! it will be a dark, modern!au featuring choso (with a few other special guests) and a dead dove sukuna series.

i'm almost finished with the outlines, and have fully completed the theme layout + mood boards for both works. i hope to get the first few chapters wrapped up in the next couple weeks. if you want to be tagged in either of these (or both), just leave a comment or send me a message !

(also !! i may or may not be cooking up a dark medieval au series in collaboration with another writer on here...so be on the lookout for that hehe)

while i take breaks from writing my two series, i'll be working through my requests ! so if you've sent one in, i promise i will get to it, unless i literally cannot think of a good way to write it (im only human, im so sorry). also, im sure we already knew this, but im a slowww writer. i wish i could churn content out quick as fuck but i am too hypercritical of myself…it's both a blessing and a curse, honestly.

if you made it all the way to the end of this nightmare of a brain dump, i love you. if you've been with me for a while, i love you. if you're just now joining me, i love you. everyone who’s supported me in any way, shape, or form, i love you.

i present you with the sloppiest kiss with tongue (only if you want it, of course. i can also give you the tightest hug, the gentlest head pat, or my social security number...access to all my bank accounts? a mansion in the hills? my passport? hand in marriage? my first born child? literally whatever you want, babe).

okay !! i think that's all for the updates. feeling: very ambitious and motivated but also overwhelmed and mildly stressed but overall super excited for what's to come. im looking forward to this new adventure and i hope y'all come along with me ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

thank you again…for literally everything. yall hold a special place in my heart and always will. so, here we go !

see you on the other side, my loves.

— jade 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

[tigerlyla-of-metinna]

The second to the last chapter of my fic: The Roles We Play (A Painting of You II)

Chapter 13: The Silver Floren

Summary:

The event takes place a couple of days back when Sarah, delirious from the poison tried to flee from the wolves chasing her and ended up found by the witcher Geralt and the vampire Regis. Emhyr, certain that Sarah died, builds a wall around himself.

The vampire gave Sarah a physical. A final check-up before retiring for the night. He mumbled to himself his diagnosis, as Sarah would do herself out of habit and had to restrain a giggle. He counted her heartbeat and pulse by gently pressing on her carotid artery. And, she might’ve imagined it, Regis leaned closer and sniffed her, his eyes closed as if analyzing her condition through smell.

“Hmmm… the river did not manage to wash the scent of jasmine off your skin, and there is no more of the venom lingering in your veins.”

Sarah was in awe, if a little creeped out. She has never met a physician with such acute sense of smell. His olfactory senses outmatched her own.

Regis gestured. “May I? I wish to inspect your vision.”

“I assure you, I can see clearly, doctor.”

“A second opinion doesn’t hurt and ensures accurate diagnosis” he countered with that unusual smile of his.

She gave up and sat steadily as Regis lifted her eyelid. She felt herself blush at his intense attention.

“What fascinating heterochromia you have, Lady Sarah“ the vampire remarked after his optical examination. "Identical in both eyes and with little to no deviation. I’d even say it’s genetically designed.”

“I’m sure some people might think I won the gene lottery, but I’m afraid I got these through process of elimination. I am an orphan. The last of my line.”

“You say that as if you dislike this uniqueness. Your eyes are captivating.”

Sarah blushed, lowered her eyes and smiled.

“It is unethical to flirt with your patient, doctor.” Geralt cuts in with a chuckle, picking his teeth with a fishbone. Regis walks back to his place by the campfire and stowed away his satchel.

Geralt directed his words to Sarah. “We have been out here for a week. Emhyr must be getting antsy by now.”

“Em… The emperor sent both of you?”

“Just me, but Regis… has some personal interest on the matter and insisted on coming along.”

Both men looked at each other and shared a weak grin. Sarah’s eyes flicked from Geralt to Regis, and back again, then directed her next words to the witcher.

“You mean blackmail?”

Regis smiled as wide as his pursed lips would allow, turning to Geralt and grinned- full set of fangs on display. “She’s astute!”

Geralt lets out a derisive huff. “Blackmail or not, I daresay Regis tagging along was a good decision, otherwise I’d be burying a corpse on top of bringing him his papers together with the basilisk’s head” he gestured at the hideous trophy next to the log beside him. The end of a hook was protruding from its cheek, making Sarah shudder and grimace.

“Why is it that Emhyr never mentioned his ambassador was part of the convoy?” he asked.

Ough, that stings!

“What and how much did the emperor reveal to you?” she countered, throwing the question back.

“That the convoy carries a cargo that may incriminate the empires’ involvement in putting the merchant Guild in its place, or something to that effect, and that it must be found before it falls into the wrong hands.

So, Emhyr hired the famous White Wolf to retrieve the documents. Finding me alive is a bonus.

It was a disheartening realization.

“Im sorry, Geralt, but the details of my mission are of strict confidentiality. All I can divulge is, I serve as his majesty’s ambassador in the negotiations and I was to return to report my- our success. Until that beast interrupted our return to Nilfgaard and slew everyone.”

“Does that confidentiality include your existence?”

She was quiet for a moment before replying with a smile. “Well deduced, sir.”

Geralt pouted at Regis “Why is it that you get a courtesy and I don’t?”

“Natural charm and rapier wit, Geralt.”

Geralt huffed and Sarah giggled.

She reached for the wooden tube that never left her side, felt the crack giving slightly to the pressure of her hand. The damage to the documents and the incoming repercussion upon her return to Nilfgaard dampened the mood.

“These papers are no longer worth anything, save as fuel for the emperor’s hearth. I tried protecting it from the rapids and rocks, but I’m no match for the wrath of nature. You saved a useless thing.”

Her hand went up grasping her chest and went down just as fast. Regis noticed.

“Do not blame yourself, Sarah” Regis consoled her softly, disliking her dejectedness. “No one predicted that the basilisk decided to roost in the route your party took, and you did not decide to take a dive into the Lebar on a whim.”

“Tell that to Emhyr” Geralt growled. “He’d allow you to leave with your life, after spending a week or two in the dungeons for not giving him the results he wanted.”

Regis glanced at him “So long as he upholds his end of the deal, I can spend a decade in a cage. Give the emperor some credit, Geralt. He is more reasonable than the duchess.” He reached into his satchel before turning to Sarah, and showed his open hand.

“I believe this belongs to you.”

She gasped “My necklace!”

Regis leaned further forward and let the necklace slip off his hand to hers. Sarah’s face was of pure gratitude staring at the pendant like a long lost friend, the campire light dancing in her eyes. She glanced at Regis with tears threatening to spill.

“I thought it lost in the river!”

“It was never in the river. The necklace was covered beneath a cloak that I think also belongs to you.

Sarah remembers tearing the cloak off her when that beast spat venom on it, smelling of acid sick. She must’ve yanked her necklace in the process. The clasp, a sideways S-hook, was bent almost straight. She could have it repaired. But losing the pendant was something she couldn’t replace. Not even with an exact copy.

Geralt tossed the fishbone into the fire. “What is with that pendant, Sarah. Hardly something a person of your high position seen wearing around their necks.”

Sarah tenderly touched the pendant resting on her palm, a serene smile lifted the corners of her lips. She was staring at Emhyrs’ face.

[bengiyo]

Bed Friend Ep 9 Stray Thoughts

Last time, King went chasing after Uea. But first, he made sure that Krit was fired for what he'd done. He and Uea began seeing each other, and we all got to watch King show Uea that he would follow the rules (even the ones that kept him from touching Uea). Uea revealed his story to King, who assured Uea he would take care of him. They're now preparing to present a case to have Uea's awful stepdad sent to jail.

I'm really just never getting over the art pieces in King's apartment.

Glad someone else reported the stepdad so Uea didn't need to do it.

I feel no sympathy for Uea's mom.

Of course King is going to stay on top of Uea's meds, and turn it into yet another overwhelmingly caring activity.

The office environment is finally back to normal. Jade is back to terrorizing King while simultaneously sucking up to Uea.

I do like Mongkol trying to be a good team member now after slacking off for so long.

Every week I am absolutely floored by the physical chemistry between Net and James. This restroom stall scene was excellent. They feel like a couple sneaking away for light play at work.

We needed this scene with Tonkao.

This "trying it on" phase of their relationship is working for me. I like the moments where Uea realizes he needs to give King a sign that he's on board with this.

Good job cock-blocking Boom, Jade.

Uea declaring King his boyfriend just cleared up my skin and changed the local weather patterns.

I guess King's mom is coming around since she's mostly concerned if they'll work out?

Oh lord here they go again not being able to change a tire in a car-centric society.

They're just gonna leave the car on the side of the road? Wtf

These boys have been having absolutely wild sex in front of a painting of the pope. Love this energy.

They are letting this phone ring for so long.

King's mom walked into that room like, "Surprise, bitch."

This actress's smile just gave me a flash of Gates McFadden.

Oh, bi boys and their moms.

At least someone's mom is doing the right things.

Oh shit we're proposing next week!!

What a week. Krit was nowhere to be seen. The stepdad went to jail. Tonkao and Uea are still in a good place. Life was chill at work. Uea claimed King as his boyfriend. King's mom gave her blessing. We eatin' good tonight.

[kaunis-sielu]

Frozen: Hair Binder

It’s been a brutal practice, after a string of losses Odin is working the guys harder than he has in a while and that has meant a busier practice for you, Jane and the new intern Darcy.

You’re tending to another small injury, Fandral had wiped out and hit his chin on the ice cutting it open. You thought it might need stitches but thankfully you’re able to bandage it up and he gets back on the ice.

Jane is getting a couple of ice baths ready when Loki goes sprawling out on the ice taking out the goal, when he doesn’t get up you slide out onto the ice.

“You okay?” You ask sinking to crouch next to him.

“Hit the side with my hip.” He grunts and you pull your hair back so it’s out of your face.

“Can you sit up?”

“Give me a second Moxie?”

“Sure.” You tell him pulling the hair binder off of your wrist. You wrap it around your ponytail before the binder snaps in your hand. “Aw shit.” You murmur, “Darcy? Can you get me a hair binder?”

“A what?”

“Oh, uh a hair tie? Mine snapped, there should be one in the side pocket of my other bag.” You tell her as Loki slowly moves to lean his body weight on his shoulders.

“Fuck.” Loki breathes and you tug at his jersey to try and see the damage. “Thor, your girl is trying to strip me.” He says and Thor laughs from behind you.

“Thor your brother is being an idiot. How much pain are you in?”

“7.” He grits out between his teeth, Loki’s hips have long been one of his biggest issues.

“Can you sit up?” You ask again and he sits up slowly, his teeth are clenched tightly. “Thor a little help?” You tell him and he scoops Loki up and helps support his brother to the bench.

“Darcy did you find that hair binder?”

“No, I have a rubber band though.” She offers and you sigh softly.

“That’ll have to do.” You’re going to have to cut it out of your hair later but you don’t want it in your face all day. Especially if you’re going to be working over the ice baths. Thor and Hogan get Loki into the training room then head back out to the rink.

“Can you get your gear off or do you need help?”

“I am not a child.” He snaps before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re in pain. I won’t hold it against you.” You assure him gently as he starts to remove his gear. “Want me to do your skates?”

“Okay.” He agrees and you unlace then pull off his skates. You don’t talk much but once he’s got all his gear off you take a look at his hip. It’s deeply bruised and you’re honestly startled.

“Why does it look like this?”

“The check from Korg yesterday.”

“Loki, I can’t take care of you if you don’t tell me when you’re hurt!” You scold him. You spend most of the rest of practice with Loki, you get him into the ice bath then head back out to practice.

Three weeks later you and Loki are at the hospital, his hip is taking longer to heal than you want it to so here you are.

You’re watching the pregame stuff, while you wait for the x-rays to come back and Thor is being interviewed by the newest reporter Manti, a sweet woman who is more than likely been hired because she’s kind of ditzy but very cute.

“We’ve really focused a lot this week on being a more cohesive team, I think it’s going to help.”

“Why are you wearing a hair binder?”

“What?” Thor says and you can’t help but echo the thought, what in the world?

“Sorry, it’s been a trending topic on RedWing. Fans are wondering why you’re wearing a hair binder on your wrist.”

“Oh,” Thor says with a little grin, “my girlfriend’s binder snapped the other day so I started wearing an extra just in case she needs it.” Your mouth drops open in surprise and you can’t help the little flutter your heart gives.

“Damn.” Loki says, “did you ask him to do that?”

“No.”

“Wow, he’s got it bad for you Moxie. Not only did he call you his girlfriend in an interview but he’s wearing a hair tie on his wrist because he knew that you were annoyed about not having a hair tie the other day at practice.” You honestly don’t think that you deserve a man like Thor, he’s so attentive and so sweet.

“I, shit man.”

“I see why he likes you.” Loki teases, “You’re so eloquent.” You flip him off as the doctor knocks on the door.

You come up with a plan with the doctor for some strength training on Loki’s hip. You’re going to add heat to his daily regimen and some other stretches. The good news is that it’s not the bone but tight muscles so if you do the PT he shouldn’t have to have surgery.

You and Loki drive back to the rink in comfortable conversation, you get along with Thor’s snarky younger brother well. “We’ll start PT tomorrow.” You tell him as you park in your spot and he sighs heavily,

“Fine.”

“Do you want to start today?”

“No, it’s going to be terrible.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Sometimes the PT the guys have to do is painful and makes things worse before it feels better. “But if we don’t start soon you’re just going to be out longer and I know you wanna be playing for the playoffs.” Loki climbs out of your car and sighs heavily.

“You’re right but I’m still not excited about it.”

“We can take it slow.”

“Romantic,” he teases, “does my brother need to worry?”

“Worry about what?” Thor’s voice comes from behind you and you glance over your shoulder at him.

“Your woman wants to take it slow with me.” Loki says throwing his arm on your shoulders and you roll your eyes at him.

“He’s scared of his PT.” Thor laughs then offers you his hand. “Also, since we all know he’s sweet on Yelena we know all the flirting from Loki is just a show.” The deep shade of red that Loki turns is so satisfying and both you and Thor laugh softly.

“I think you’ve been bested little brother.”

“You can keep her, she’s a menace.”

“You won’t be saying that when I become the best wingwoman ever and set you up with Yelena.” Loki mumbles something then scurries off and you turn to Thor.

“So, you’re the sweetest man on the planet you know that?” You tell him and he grins down at you.

“Not that I’m arguing but why?” You pluck at the hair binder on his wrist.

“This is for me?” You ask softly and he hums,

“It’s a small thing I can do to make your life easier. Why would I not do it?” It’s then that you know, for a fact, that you love him.

“I,” you stop yourself, this isn’t the place you want to make that confession, “I can’t believe how thoughtful that is. Thank you.”

“Of course min kärlek.”

“That’s a new one.” You tell him with a laugh he kisses you softly.

“It is. Now, when we win where do you want to go to celebrate?”

“Honestly I just kind of want a night in.”

“I’ll have my mom take Astrid to her house rather than have them at my place.”

“You don’t have to. I like hanging out with her.”

“I know, and she adores you but I think I just want a night with the two of us.”

“Okay. And if you lose?”

“Same thing?” He offers and you laugh.

“How about we order in from different places, win we do Drax and if we lose we do..”

“Leftovers?”

“Yes!” You agree and he laughs this time.

“Deal.” He kisses you quickly then heads for the locker room.

The game ends in a blowout, Asgard wins four to nothing and Thor had played incredibly well scoring two goals and with Loki off the ice you don’t have a very busy night.

“Why don’t you order for us and we can pick up the food on the way home.”

“Okay,” you agree as he goes to be interviewed and then change. You do some paperwork then order some food and go to meet Thor in the hallway.

You’re not overly surprised to see Manti hanging out in the hallway so you text Thor,

Manti is out here. Do you wanna keep things private or..?

Up to you Kattenuge.

I don’t think I’m ready.

That’s fine. Do you want to go to the car? Text me when you get there and I’ll unlock it.

Okay.

Even though he says it’s fine you feel terrible that you’re still sneaking around but you’ve seen how vicious the public can be with Cat and Steve’s relationship. He unlocks his car for you and you slip inside then a couple minutes later you see him come out of the rink and he joins you in the car. Thor rests a hand on your leg as he drives and you play with his fingers but neither of you talk.

“Are you upset?” You ask breaking the silence.

“What? Kattenuge, why would I be?”

“Because I’m not ready for the world to know.”

“No, of course not Kattenuge. I left that up to you for a reason, I want you to be comfortable and I know it can be hard being in the public eye.” He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze, “Even if you’re never ready we can handle it.” God you love him. “Is the food under your name or mine?” He asks as he pulls up to the restaurant.

“Oh, mine.” You slip out of the car, get your food then head back to his car.

When you get back to his house you bring the food in and eat together on the floor of the living room. It’s like a cute little picnic and you end up laying on his chest while you watch a movie.

“Hey, I love you.” You tell him not moving from where you’re laying against him. Thor’s fingers still where they’ve been playing with your hair and you’re terrified you’ve said it too soon.

“You do?”

“Yea, I was gonna say something earlier but it didn’t feel like the place for it.”

“I love you too.”

“Oh thank god. I thought you were going to leave me hanging there for a second.” You tell him and Thor laughs softly, “If you’re wondering, it was when you said if you could do something small to make my life easier why not do it.”

“That was when you knew?” He asks and you finally look up at him.

“Yea.”

“I knew when you came over and treated Astrid.”

“That was months ago.”

“I know. I didn’t want to scare you off min kärlek.”

“What is that one?”

“My love.”

🏒🏒🏒

This is a series of one shots. If you have any suggestions or ideas for Thor and Moxie please let me know.

Tag list:

@foxyjwls007 @andahugaroundtheneck @also-fangirlinsweden @pagina16ps @princesssterek @valsworldofcreativity @dumblani @inkedaztec @loving-life-my-way @animegirlgeeky @shinycupcakebaker @eralen @sophham @gh0stgurl @wonderlandfandomkingdom @killcomet @abschaffer2 @sass-masterkittenmama

[theatrekidenergy]

Vent!

PLEASE Do NOT read below the cut if you are a sensitive to talks of e*ting problems, we*ght loss and everything in that range. I care about you so much, please take care of yourself, eat something that makes you feel good, get some rest, and love you for you hunny. I’m here if you ever need someone to talk too. 🫶

TW: recovering ana, weight loss, weight mention, venting

This post IS NOT pro-ana, this is a VENT and I am trying to recover, if you are pro-ana or a th*nspo blog I will block and report you if you interact with this post. /srs

I lost weight for so long, I’m 5’3 / 5’4, and at first I was 111lbs, then I went down to 106lbs within like 3 weeks. But I flared up, couldn’t walk for more than 10 steps without collapsing, couldn’t workout or skate, chronic illness fucking hurts. And I gained. I gained so fucking much so, so fast. The medication I was on slowed my metabolism to shit and I’m 112lbs now. I know that weight fluctuations are normal at my age, but FUCK why????? Shit it hurts. Then, I lost a couple more pounds a couple days back, went down to 108 and it flucated io again to 110. My birthday was today and last night was my party the night before and my friend wanted to make a candy salad so I said yes. Of course I said yes. They’re my best friend. But I ate so much. And I weighed myself in the morning. 112. How the actual fuck did I gain that much?

I had to punish myself somehow, but my dad, my god awful dad who’s only nice to me approximately 2 days a year (my birthday and Christmas) decided to take me to lunch at a buffet. I ate so damn much. Noodles and soup and shit. I tried to eat low cal but once again my fucking dumb ass actually did something right for once after having a lunch and breakfast taht put me in the 500’s ended up having a salad for dinner. But my big brother and his fantastic girlfriend (love them both SOSOSO much) did baking, they always do baking, and I always feel guilty and it always makes me binge. Today they made cinnamon rolls as a “happy birthday Adam!” Surprise, I got the smallest one (probably like 180 cal, give or take) and by then I had already fucked uo and got my calories to a 1,180. I only worked out for 25 minutes today, and I’m still at 110.5lbs and I feel just so so disgusting. My neck feels fat. When I don’t press my tongue there isn’t even a little crook (I always slide my finger into that crook before I eat, I’m trying to stop in recovery but it’s so hard to break. I used to use it as a determiner if I could eat, period. But now I’m slipping back into the habit, maybe I’ll stop when I’m thin again. I know it’s not healthy. I don’t know what to do to stop. I’ll talk to a therapist when I get the chance. I think my parents are starting to notice.)

[crippleprophet]

hi! i have a question regarding. doctors being shitty/being incredibly invasive and controlling

some background: ive had neuromotor symptoms since i was a toddler (i was 'bad enough' to have the school district pay for my pt/ot as a toddler) which was (badly) diagnosed as dyspraxia by a neurologist who then never saw me again after i completed pt/ot.

i still have all of those problems now despite on and off pt since then and consistent pt for over a year currently. we went back to my current hospital trying to see a neurologist to discuss the results of an mri i had at a different hospital and set up 2 appointments.

we had an appointment scheduled with a neurologist which we went to regarding my neuromotor issues + mri as well as migraines. all he talked about during the appt was the migraines and told me i wasnt drinking enough water despite me having pots and drinking more than 100oz a day and that i was just stressed. he did not ONCE mention any of the neuromotor issues and dismissed me when i brought them up. he also told us seeing the other neurologist would be unnecessary and that we should cancel the appointment. at the appt me and my mom agreed with him, but we were unhappy with the outcome of the appointment with him and decided we should keep the second appointment to act as a second opinion.

the day before the 2nd opinion, we get a call from the first neuro saying that he cancelled the 2nd opinion appointment after talking to the 2nd neuro. this is technically not prohibited in the hospital im at as far as i understand, and my mom is planning to call the ombudsman to file a complaint at the very least but both of us are at a loss for what to do. i know i am probably in a different hospital system than you are so the logistics of reporting this will be different, but do you have any advice for what to say? i am at a genuine loss and as long as this neurologist is my current doctor i have no idea if ill be able to see a different neuro for a second opinion lest he cancel that appointment too.

[tl;dr: i scheduled 2 appointments with 2 different neurologists to discuss neuromotor symptoms, a mri i had done at a different hospital, and migraines. i saw the first one and he was incredibly dismissive and told me to cancel the 2nd appointment i had scheduled. my mom and i agreed at the time but decided to keep it for a second opinion after the appt was over. the first neurologist canceled the 2nd opinion appointment the day before the appt without consulting me or my mom.]

disclaimer that i am in the US and also a minor. if you or your followers have any advice it would be greatly appreciated!! thank you and sorry this is so long!

god, that’s such bullshit, i’m so sorry. you don’t deserve to be dealing with this & that’s incredibly inappropriate behavior. i’m obviously just some guy on the internet so take all of this with a grain of salt / weigh it against your preferences & experiences - i don’t think there’s any one right or wrong way to handle this & i’m sorry you’ve been put in such an awful position. (also no need to apologize for being long - i’m about to write you a novel lol)

i definitely think contacting the ombudsman is a good idea & i’m really glad your mom is on your side; you can also find the complaint process for the medical board in charge of his licensure by searching [your state] medical board complaint. here’s an overview of what happens with that process:

if you’re on medicaid or medicare there are additional specific avenues of complaint through that.

i’m going to file a complaint against a doctor in the next couple of weeks for some fucked up shit of my own so my thought process for that has been like, i don’t expect anything to happen to him, but it might help some future person who complains for there to have been previous issues on file. you might be in a different emotional position, though - if your complaint going nowhere would be devastating, for example, it’s okay to factor that into your decision of whether to file one.

i also recommend checking your state laws around your rights to your medical records, and while there are ways to obtain it after filing a complaint, i’d personally try to get any test results or other documentation that you’d need to show a different physician before filing a complaint just to minimize the risk of somebody giving you grief & dragging it out. i went in person to ask for my bloodwork results from the shit doctor & let the rest of my record with them rot bc i don’t need to read the bullshit he wrote & certainly don’t want it impacting my care with someone else.

as far as getting a second opinion i think there are a few things to consider:

i’d personally be super careful when deciding whether to try to make another appointment with neuro#2. it could be that shitty neuro#1 just talked to the scheduling department or something, but if he talked to the doctor themself, it’s unfortunately really fucking likely that neuro#2 is already biased against you. most (not all - my pcp is fabulously untrusting of his peers) doctors will take a fellow doctor’s word over a patient’s any day.

do you have options that are outside of that hospital network, or something like a private practice that’s technically part of the network but uses their own scheduling system? if it’s an option i think getting as far away (in terms of connection, not literal distance) as possible is your safest bet; one of the very few good things about the US medical system is the lack of a centralized database, so in a lot of circumstances your medical record can’t follow you unless you let it. i’m a huge proponent of giving my doctors information on a need-to-know basis; my rheumatologist doesn’t know my pcp gave me tramadol while i was trying to get an appointment, for example, because i don’t want to be labeled drug-seeking.

if your only options are where neuro#1 would be able to see the appointment, it’s more dicey - hopefully the ombudsman has better / more specific advice, but if it were me, i’d probably try to make an appointment in person to get a sense of the vibe & if the person scheduling seems kind/decent, explain that i had a doctor cancel my appointment against my wishes & ask if they could make a note or something to only cancel it if i (or in your case maybe your mom) says so. kind of risky but this whole thing is a clusterfuck so it could be worth a shot.

is there any reason this neurologist needs to stay your current doctor? because like, if not, get your records and get the fuck out. usually i just ghost my providers but in this case it sounds like you’ll probably need to formally break up with him - if you have a follow-up scheduled then if you cancel that you can inform the front desk when doing so that you’re no longer going to be a patient at that office. heads up they’ll probably ask why, it’s up to you whether you want to be honest.

if you’re comfortable doing so, after you’ve extricated yourself from this provider, i’d recommend writing a public-facing review anywhere you can - google reviews for his practice / the hospital, your insurance website, healthgrades, etc - so other potential patients are warned. i’d basically say what you told me here about what happened.

as far as writing your complaints themselves, i’d try to found them on as much documented evidence from other providers as possible, because the system only respects itself. so for the complaint i’m working on, i’m going to include:

what the doctor did that was against current diagnostic guidelines, & cite those

previous diagnoses & medications he ignored

what i was subsequently diagnosed with & medicated with

statements he made that were factually incorrect, & citations of research disproving them

if he didn’t talk about your imaging you should definitely mention that too.

i hope some of that is helpful! i’ve been researching & sorting through my own neurological stuff so if there’s anything else i can do to help or support you feel free to send another ask or dm me! best of luck to you & you’ll be in my thoughts 💓🖤💓 other folks feel free to respond if you have further advice!

[helenofsimblr]

Stella: Hi, so you are Catherine?

Cat: Yes. I am. Thanks for answering Lyra's call.

Stella: Not a problem. I understand that your spouse is... different... believe me I understand different, and I believe we can help you regardless. So tell me some details Catherine, just, talk away. 

Cat: She's just not the same person I fell in love with. I want to end the relationship, but she's chasing off every lawyer I've tried. I'm out of options and you're my last hope.  I have pictures of the damage she did to our home because I wouldn't come home the day the station fell.

Stella makes mmm hmm noises as she listens to Cat on the phone.

Cat: She chased me to Sulani before that, while I was working, made a huge spectacle of herself in front of the Prince.

Stella: Yes, I know... However, her actions are in no way a fault of yours, and Prince Ozen doesn't hold it against you. I assure you. 

Cat: He was kind to me and she was awful. She's been like this for a long time, but the changes recently were crazy, she went through some crazy procedure and it made her jealousy unhinged. I'm not sure how to stop her. I just want my clothes and my cat and a restraining order... and that's it. I just want to separate myself from her financially and officially. We're not living together anymore. She's stalking my new residence... starts to sob Police are aware, I've filed reports... I don't know what more I can do...

Stella: Catherine, take a deep breath and get a hold of yourself. You've called me, and you don't need anything else now. I will get you away from that woman. I can't do this case personally due to my forthcoming wedding, but I have somebody who can. She's young, but tenacious. Believe me when I say, your spouse will not manage to intimidate her. And... she's better than I was at her age even. 

Cat: *takes in a breath* Ok Ms. Montgomery. I really appreciate your assistance. Congratulations on your upcoming wedding. I feel like I may have met you before, your voice seems so familiar. Thank you again.

Stella: Yes, I feel the same… well, you just stay calm. We are not intimidated by thugs around here. I will have my girl call you in the next couple of weeks, and then, we’re in business. Goodbye for now Cat, and remember, we aren't going to quit.

[invisiblegarters]

Dangerous Romance Ep 10

Last week, Kang tried to get dad's attention and rebel or something by running away, which he apparently does all the time so dad wasn't too fussed. Plus he had Sailom reporting back. Kang sold his bike for funds after dad froze his card, and then had regrets. He was forced to beg in order to get it back and I was supposed to feel bad I'm sure but I'm heartless and also apparently still sour about the bullying in the beginning so I didn't. Kang and Sailom did the do and I failed to feel any kind of way about it.

For the first time ever I have caught second couple syndrome and spent the whole time chanting at Nawa and Guy to make out already. They did not, but they did go on a bike ride to save their friends that they gave up on eventually because they got lost. The brain trust, these two are not.

Meanwhile, Saifah and Name had a little heart to heart and Saifah got Name a job driving Kang's dad around. I'm sure nothing bad will come of that at all.

And now on with the show! What will today bring and will I care? I'll probably care a little.

Ooh scent kink.

I do like how much Sailom likes teasing Kang. And ah, yes, the good old mosquito bite. What would we do without it.

Honeymoon my foot Sailom says with the imprint of Kang's mouth visible on his neck for anyone to see. Come on my guy.

Oh Saifah no. Honey I get that you are way sweeter than I expected. but please stop trusting - oh did you have a crush on Name? That's adorable. But please stop being stupid.

Trust no one in this show. Except Sailom because he's the best. And Auto, my beloved.

Oh. Oh, maybe it'll be the boss that fucks it up and not Name. Either way Saifah is so screwed.

I feel like people keep being sweeter than I expect.

KNEW IT. Of course the boss knew.

Also ew get those bloody meaty hands off of his face that's gross. And then he touches the damn meat again. Nope. Would not be eating dinner with him.

Pfft like father like son, I guess. Is dad gonna wind up being decent too in the end? Man all my suspicion of everyone is coming to absolutely nothing. Maybe I should watch The Player after this. I hear it has the double and triple crossing I crave. I want to trust no one!

Oh hey is dad gonna go see Kang's game? Look at this.

Tread carefully here Sailom.

Drama! Guy is hurt. Careful Nawa you're running the risk of looking concerned. And Kang gets to get over his issues with penalty shots. I wonder if Saifah will tell him about his dad. Those two need to have a talk already.

Ah, so that explains why Kang gets so weirdly tense when his dad finds him messing around or not studying hard enough. But of course now he thinks his dad has given up. Maybe find a happy medium, dude. I really don't think that your wife meant let him do whatever whenever.

Oh NO. Dad surprised a burglary in progress eh? Saifah what did you do? I no longer believe that it was entirely you so what happened? And where is Name? Fled the scene huh?

I have no doubt that Dad will wake up. But it would be kind of interesting if he didn't. Way too bleak for this show though.

Aw okay that's sweet and supportive.

Well now that Saifah confessed I am more sure than ever that it isn't what it looks like, haha.

Haha that didn't last long. Man, it wasn't even Sailom who brought him into the house, it was grandma. SO much for all that support. Why is this so funny to me? I am a horrible person.

Oh look, it's Flashback's Triumphant Return. I did not miss you, Flashback. The show has been so good about their use of them lately that I got complacent. And now look at us. Here we are, and no one is happy. Not me, not Sailom, I'm assuming not Kang. Definitely not me.

WOW Name. Now I know you're the actual problem.

Pfft okay I kind of love how they just forgot about Guy. Granted there was a bit of a situation at home.

AW look at the troops all rallied. They're such sweeties. But uh, I'm pretty sure a confession means jail time regarless of lawyers, no?

Oh no! Isn't Guy on a scholarship for football? What happens to that if he can't play?

The way I am feeling these two, though. Every time that they interact I perk up.

SAILOM.

Sailom what are you doing. Don't do it, kiddo.

Okay I do not like Name. I take back anything nice I might have said about him. Also that watch is totally the one that Kang's dad already gave Saifah. I would bet money on it.

Listen to grandma kid. She gets it. She's a lot smarter than you.

"Poor people will do anythign for money." This coming from a guy who has watched Sailom actively not do things for money over and over again. I know Kang's upset but he's also a lot less likable without Sailom. Not sorry.

Oooh return of the escorting plot! YAY.

Huh. I am actually really curious as to why Saifah is taking the blame for this. Because I don't believe for one second he shot Kang's dad. Also I bet the reason Name's so concerned is because he did it, and dad knows that.

I mean I did see the preview, but even if I hadn't I would have known that this dude totally roofied the wine. Oh, Sailom.

And of course Kang is gonna take his ire out on Sailom.

Yes, you stupid shit. You kicked him out of your house and fired him, what the fuck do you expect. Like come on dude I know thinking isn't your strongest suit but do try it.

Hm. That last scene did not hit me like I think it was supposed to. Dammit. Why do these big scenes keep not working for me?

I guess next week Kang's back to letting Sailom think for him. Good. It's better for all of us when he does.

In conclusion, if Nawa and Guy don't make out by the end of this I will be mightily displeased.

[dashawfrostart]

This Week In "Time & Again" #29: Going Ahead, And Lothar's Pre-Xmas Traurigkeit

Hallöchen! 👋 Perhaps, this is not going to be the last post of this year... But that will depend. Anyways, here's a couple of new WIP screenshots to begin the post on a very jolly note (well... kind of 😁):

(haha, I didn't think about that when I decided to choose a screenshot to post here, but the latter one makes a real good "Chapter 6 in a nutshell" potential meme. And I hope the nut is a walnut. I love those; they're yummy and healthy)

It's been steady. I've been working on "Time & Again" relatively frequently and non-stop, which is great. I post the screenshots on Krista forum thread now (usually in batches), so you can track them down 👉HERE👈. Nothing very special or out of ordinary to report for now, just the progress on the steady work I've been doing. Little by little, sporadically (as per usual for me), and certainly in style 😎.

Unlike before, I now tend to work on the foregrounds and backgrounds altogether, not on the foregrounds first and then followed by the backgrounds. This does not always happen, so plenty pages are still lacking proper backgrounds - because I need to do, let's say, some cultural research prior to taking on them full force. But I'm trying to achieve a certain balance, for sure. It goes good)))

But there's something indirectly concerning "Time & Again" that I've been thinking about and that I regret doing (or NOT doing, depending on how you approach the question). I kinda regret publishing it under my name - I should've gone anon instead (under the name of TheDuckIzWatching, or 100001st_Revenant, or something more generic like YourAverageBirdNerd23, for example). And it's a moot point right now, since everything has already been decided on, and moreover the books have been shipped for printing. And everybody already knows that Frosty is the author of "Time & Again" thanks to some of those socials I rarely update, this blog inclusive. Why the peck am I focused on that crazy idea?.. Well, that's simply because my name doesn't matter for I strongly believe in the idea that the author's creation in no way should be perceived through the audience's stereotypical view of its author, and because forced approaches are always incredibly limiting. Or, simply put, I think it's a good idea to go anon and be as invisible if possible. I don't matter - only my work does. That's all there is to it. My readers don't need to know neither my face, or my name, or who and what I am, or what kind of peanut butter I like on my toasts, or which cardboard box I live in.

well ok, I don't mind sharing what kind of peanut butter is my favourite. the one without additives and/or sugar, that is. yum!!!

Not long ago, my Editor-in-Chief, my friends, and myself had a very interesting and thought-provoking conversation about The Death of the Author theory. I briefly learnt about it on my literature classes. It's not that my conception and understanding have changed, but rather our friendly discussion proved that my thoughts on the matter were right to begin with (as long as I remember myself musing on the matter). I must admit, I find myself in great awe every time I think of the artists who go completely anonymous or take numerous monikers/pseudonyms/masks to hide their identities - or share incredibly little information about themselves, because, in relation to the art they create, it doesn't matter (if ever at all). Not only it's good for avoiding unwanted popularity and/or becoming a celeb, but there's also a certain fracture of art in it. Once you take a moniker, you undergo a transformation and become a character. And the character is not necessarily yourself 😁 I deeply respect bands such as Ghost, Priest, Laibach, Batushka; I like the mystery of the artist who goes by Banksy. Because why, pray tell, would you even want to advertise yourself (your face/your hairstyle/your toothbrush/your bum)?

But that's probably enough about that for now; I might expand later if I come across different thoughts in my head that might contribute to the topic.

Earlier in this post from the last November I was musing about Lothar's preferences on the Christmas dish, most likely based on his childhood. Which was a nice thing to think about, since it's entertaining and could help me understand my own son better (parents and children relationships are always a bidirectional work, right?!). And to help understand the character progression and how he changed (if at all) throughout his lifetime. And, to top it up, I actually like Christmas (deal with it 😎). But there's something crucial I have forgotten about (or intentionally ignored). I revisited those musings again and tried to expand on what I was thinking about last time. And now I think that... Lothar hates Christmas. And absolutely not for a reason that your average ape-related planet Earth inhabitant would potentially hate it. His hatred towards Christmas stems from his family history - or, to be precise, from the day it was all taken away from him. Perhaps, Lothar really enjoyed Christmas, especially when Edgar was around, and the family had a happy festive full house. Most likely, he enjoyed his yearly Christstollen as well as Gänsebraten and luxurious Raclette in the company of his lovely relatives. But then Edgar was gone. And then the rest of the family was gone, too. So there wasn't anybody else for Lothar to share the magic of the family holiday such as Christmas. There's only his boss, who is also a sort of Lothar's late teenagerhood Vaterfigur - but it's not the same. It's a different type of family. Lothar pretty much doesn't have anyone. ... maybe Jeanny will help him learn to enjoy Christmas again, if he meets her in another timeline?.. We'll see about that.

And that's all for today, folks! Happy holidays 🎄, and see you soon! 🤗

P.S. Steam Replay reminded me of that yet again, and I've been thinking about this for a long time: if ready, I might [read: possibly, but not guaranteed] post the list of games I beat in 2024. And yes, there's gonna be a special subsection about Doom mods I beat within the last 365 days, too, just as expected of me (which, to my shame, is incredibly modest this year).

Originally, I thought that this blog wouldn't be dedicated to my art only: as indicated in the very first post, I was thinking of also posting, intermittently, my reviews and in-depth exploration summaries for the other people's art pieces and particular art styles (including videogames and albums) - or, if all else fails, simply posting something like that. Alas, since I virtually stopped making YouTube videos due to the lack of time/spark/social-network-appreciation (and they require writing, too, for I don't go rush into them headlong and all impromptu - I can haz no meowstery such as that yet), I haven't done much of the review writing IN YEARS now. As of today, my Steam account only has 2 reviews, one of which was actually written by Brian 🤣😅 I used to be quite a prolific review writer back when I was a teenager and a young adult. I used to practise a lot, I enjoyed reviewing videogames (also tried writing walkthroughs for them, like those on GameFAQs; yup, good old days), music albums and separate tracks, and even movies (well... until I stopped watching them completely around my 20's). But sadly, those days are now went.

So I don't think I can easily just hop back in and magically revive that tradition of the artistic review writing - nevermind to find enough quality time to actually invest into that. But I believe, occasionally, some truly rare reviews might suddenly appear on this blog 🙃

[werewolfbansheelove]

Throwdown (School Sets)

Announcer: Here’s what you missed last week. Quinn’s pregnant, and Puck's the father, but Quinn’s decided... to give the baby to Terri, Who’s not pregnant, just pretending to be. It was her sister Kendra's idea.

Kendra: We're gonna have to get you a baby.

Announcer: Also, Ken proposed to Emma, and she said...

Emma: Yes.

Announcer; Oh, and Sue got Figgins to make her co director of the Glee Club.

Sue: Hey, kids.

Announcer: And that’s what you missed on... 🎵Glee🎵

The episode begins in the auditorium. Will and Sue are engaged in a heated argument in slow motion. 

Will: How did this happen? I look like a crazy person. That’s not me. Wow. I didn’t know the vein on my neck could stick out like that. We’ve been going at it for a week... since the decongestant incident where Figgins brought Sue in to co-run the Glee Club. I’m so ashamed of myself. She’s turned me into her.

The camera turns to Sue. 

Sue: Look at me. Even in the heat of battle, I’m so elegant... regal. I am Ajax, mighty Greek warrior. God, it feels good to finally pop that zit known as Will Schuester.

Will: Shut up, Sue. Look at us. We're even fighting in our voice-overs. I guess things really started to fall apart a couple days ago...right after Figgins called us into his office for a sit-down.

––

The scene turns to Principal Figgins office. 

Figgins: Sue, Schue, I called you here... to get the temperature of the Glee Club. I wanted to get a progress report... on how you're working together as co directors.

Will: Well, I think...

Sue: In my opinion... No, go ahead.

Will:  No, you.

Sue: Okay.

Will: Please.

Sue: Principal Figgins. Uh, things couldn't be going more smoothly.

Will: I couldn’t agree more.

Figgins (leaning forward): I don't want to hear any reports... of either of you trying to curry favor from the children. Am I clear?

Will: Oh, absolutely. 

The scene goes to Glee Club. 

Will: As we head into sectionals, I wanna get some feedback. Like, what kind of stuff you guys would like to be doing. Is there anything... any music in particular... that you guys wanna do?

Mercedes (raising a hand): Can we maybe try something a little more black?

Kurt: I agree. We do an awful lot of show tunes.

Rachel: It's Glee Club, not Crunk Club.

Mercedes (glares at the girl): Don’t make me take you to the carpet.

Will quickly interfered. Will: Fantastic! Thank you, Mercedes, Kurt. Duly noted. Anything else?

Mike (raising a hand): I can pop and lock. 

Will: Not really what we're goin' for, Mike... but... noted, noted, yes.

Back in Figgin’s office. 

Figgins: And no pitting the kids against one another.

Sue: Never.

In Sue's office. 

Sue: I wanna pit these kids against one another. Am I clear? Quinn, update. Go.

Quinn: The minority students don't feel like they're being heard.

Sue: Ah. Chink in the armor, huh? I am going to create an environment that is so toxic... no one will want to be a part of that club. Like the time I sold my house to a nice, young couple... and I salted the earth in the backyard... so that nothing living could grow there for a hundred years. You know why I did that? Because they tried to get me to pay their closing costs.

Back to Figgin’s office. 

Figgins: Sectionals is coming up. What are your co director plans?

Will: Uh, we were actually... Uh, we’re each gonna direct our own number.

Sue: And we’ll be flipping a coin to see who goes first. It’ll be very civilized, very sportsmanlike, so...

Will: Mmm. Yes.

Figgins: This arrangement is pleasing to all.

Sue: Isn’t it?

Will: It’s great.

Figgins: Now, let’s hug it out.

Will (chuckling): I’d rather not do that.

Sue: I really don’t see that happening.

Figgins: This meeting doesn't end until I see your bodies touching. It's a technique I learned last week at my leadership seminar.

The two stood up and did a hug but whispered to each other.

Will: I will destroy you.

Sue: I'm about to vomit down your back.

Will: It's on.

––

Set in the corridor of the school

Rachel was at her locker and when she closed it- Jacob was there. 

Rachel (leaving): Ew

Jacob: The independent polling company in my Dockers...has determined you're the hottest girl in this school.

Jacob: Have you been reading my blog?

He chased after her. 

Rachel: Of course not. You’re a gossip monger... and your blog is nothing but trash and lies, many of them about me.

Jacob: You’ll be happy to know the one I’m working on right now has nothing to do with you... or your rumored lust for Jew-fros. It’s about Quinn Fabray. Word on the street is that she’s in trouble.

Rachel: Where did you hear that?

Jacob: Are you denying it?

Rachel: Yes.      She walked away. 

Jacob: Because the same birdie told me you're heartbroken... Finn Hudson didn't choose you to carry his litter.

Rachel was annoyed and stomped towards him.  Rachel: What is it gonna take for you to not run the story?

Jacob: Well...

–––

In the Choir room- 

Sue: Ladies' choice. Heads.

She flipped the coin that Will caught. 

Will (momentarily): Heads.

Sue: Awesome. All right. Following students have been selected... for a special elite Glee Club called Sue's Kids.

Will: Hold on. We agreed not to split up the group.

Sue: Aw, come on, Will. Give me a chance to do things Sue Sylvester's way. Maybe with my proven leadership abilities... I can help this pathetic group of mouth breathers place at sectionals. 

Will: We can't even compete in sectionals if we divide up the club, Sue. It's against the rules.

Sue: Really? You need to crack open a book, William. Here. I have. Show Choir Rule Book. Page 24. Provision 14. Second addendum. “Twelve members must perform for each team. However, not all members must perform every song.”

Will (huffed): Fine. Hey, just go ahead, take all the football players and your Cheerios.

Sue: All right, everybody. Listen up. When you hear your name called, cross over to my side of this black, shiny thing. 

Will: That’s called a piano, Sue.

Sue: Santana! Wheels! Gay kid! Come on! Move it! Asian! Other Asian. Aretha. And Shaft. I don't want to participate in a group

that ignores the needs of minority students.

All the called kids moved to side of the piano. 

Will (leaning in): You have got to be kidding me!

Sue: I wouldn't kid about this. And maybe that's your problem. Bigotry is no laughing matter.

Santana (making a c with her hand): And that’s how Sue sees it.

Sue: Outstanding. 

––

Finn was at Rachel’s locker who closed it and faced the tall boy. 

Finn: So what did you have to do to get him to stop?

Rachel: Let’s just say I feel sorry for my dads... 'cause they’re probably gonna have to dip into my college fund to pay for intensive therapy.

Finn: Whoa! Hard core.

Rachel: I don't mind. I did it to protect you.

Finn: And Quinn. 

Rachel: Of course. We're all teammates.

Finn (stops in front of her): Hey, I gotta tell you. You really are awesome. I'm gonna make it up to you someday, I swear.

Rachle smiled then begins to walk away. 

Jacob (appearing out of nowhere): I need another pair.

Rachel (shock): What’s wrong with the ones I already gave you?

Jacob: Look. Uh, they still had the tag on them.

He spoke very loudly. 

Rachel (growls): Put those away!

Jacob: Okay. I expect delivery by tomorrow morning... or the story of Quinn Fabray and the stork goes wide. I feel an urge to kiss you right now. I’m just gonna go for it.

Rachel (points a finger to him): You stop it!

Jacob: Okay. Sorry.           He leaves her alone. 

––

In the Choir room  it was  only the Sue's Kids. 

Tina: I’m k-k-kind of nervous.

Artie: I debated not even showing up.

Mercedes: I think it’s gonna be great. Did you catch Sue's Corner last night? 

(Sue was on the news, speaking. Sue: Sometimes people ask me, "Sue,

how come you’re so sensitive to minorities?" I’ll tell you why. Because I know firsthand how hard it is to struggle as a minority in America today. I’m 1/16th Comanche Indian. In fact, I like minorities so much... I’m thinkin' of movin' to California to become one.) 

Sue entered the choir room and hands some papers to the kids. 

Sue: Hey, kids. Brought some of my brass buddies with me. Thought maybe they could help us out a little bit. Okay. So I selected a song that I think will speak to the frustration you’ve felt under the failed leadership of Will Schuester.

Mercedes (smiling): "Hate on Me," an R & B song!

Sue: You like that? Yeah.

Sure looked at the Asian boy. Sue: Changster, I wanna see some of that pop and lock groove you're so famous for. You go to town. (To Mercedes) And you, Mercedes. I want to see some Mariah hands.

Mercedes: I can do that.

Artie: Yeah!

Tina (stutters): I think we g-got this one, Miss Sylvester.

Sue:All right. Well, we'll see. Hit it!

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Hate On Me BY Jill Scott

New Directions: Do-do-do Do-do-do Do-do-do-do 

Mercedes: If I could give you the world on a silver platter, would it even matter? You’d still be mad at me, If I could find in all this a dozen roses that I would give to you, you’d still be miserableCause in reality I’m gonna be who I be and I don't feel no faults. For all the lies that you bought You can try as you may, break me down but I say that it ain't up to you, go on and do what you do

Mercedes: Hate on me, hater, now or later 'Cause I'm gonna do me, you'll be mad, baby (Sue's Kids: Go ahead and hate) Go 'head and hate on me, hater, cause I'm not afraid of what I got I paid for, you can hate on me. 

Mercedes with Will's Group (Will's Group): Hate on me, hater, now or later Cause I'm gonna do me, you'll be mad, baby (You cannot hate on me) Go 'head and hate on me, hater ('Cause my mind is free) Cause I'm not afraid of (Feel my destiny) What I got I paid for (So shall it be)

Mercedes: You can hate on me

Tina: You cannot hate on me (Mercedes: Hate on me, hater)

Mercedes (Sue's Kids): Now or later ('Cause my mind is free) 'Cause I'm gonna do me (My destiny) You'll be mad, baby (So shall it be) (Tina: So shall it be) (Hate on me) Go 'head and hate on me, hater ('Cause my mind is free) 'Cause I'm not afraid of (Feel my destiny) What I got I paid for (So shall it be) (Tina: So shall it be) You can hate on me

Mercedes with Sue's Kids: Go 'head and hate on me, hater Cause I'm not afraid of, what I got I paid for You can hate on me (Mercedes: Yeah). 

What the kids and Sue didn’t know was that Will was watching them. 

–––

Sue was walking in the hallway as Will confronted her. 

Will: Sue. Hey, Sylvester, I’m talking to you.

Sue: Oh, hey, buddy. I thought I smelled failure.

Will: Why'd you take the piano when it was my time up with the kids?

Sue: A properly steam-cleaned piano is the key to any successful music group.

Will: You are undermining me in front of these students.

Sue: Your delusions of persecution are a telltale sign of early-stage paranoid schizophrenia.

They were at a staircase that leads to thr football fields. 

Will: Sue, I am not done talking to you. What about all my sheet music? My kids need that music.

Sue: Well, Will, the last thing your kids need is chronic sinusitis from the mildew I fearedwas infesting that old, moldy paper.

Will: So, what, you sent it away for some testing?

Sue: Nah. Burned it.

Will: That is it, Sue! This ends right here!

Sue: A cockfight. Fantastic.

Will: We are here for these students. Whatever problems we have,we're gonna get 'em out in the open!

Sue stopped by the end of the stairs. 

Sue: You wanna get real? You’re right, Will. I have been trying to destroy your club with a conviction I can only call religious. And you wanna know why? Because I don’t trust a man with curly hair. I can’t help picturing small birds laying sulfurous eggs in there and I find it disgusting.

Will: Oh, you are a terrible influence on these kids. You’re dangerous. I think you teach them the wrong lessons!

Sue: I don’t care what you think. I have a legacy to protect, William, and Glee Club is a part of that legacy. And I will win. If it means I have to get you fired to do it, so be it. Those drinks are crap. 

Sue took a kid's drink and dumped it on the ground. 

––

At the next Cheerios practice, Sue is being interviewed by a journalist for a cheerleading magazine. 

Journalist: Sue, a lot of our readers at Cheerleading Today...

Sue: I’m cutting you off. Is this a cover story?

Journalist: Yes.

Sue: Okay. This is all your readers need to know. I’m all about empowerment. I empower my Cheerios to live in a state of constant fear... by creating an environment of irrational, random terror. Speaking of which... Q! Here, now!

Quinn rushed up to her.  

Sue: Where are my Cheerios?

Quinn: Coach Sylvester, they’re not academically eligible.

Angered, Sue pulls Will into Figgins' office to report him for "jeopardizing" her Cheerios' future. 

Sue: This is a travesty of international proportions. You are jeopardizing my Cheerios' role as goodwill ambassadors and I have a call in to the president.

Will: I have a Spanish quiz in which one of your cheerleaders misspelled her name and answered every question with a drawing of a sombrero.

Sue: You can’t stand it. You can’t stand to see a woman in a position of power.

Will: That has nothing...

Sue: Your psychosexual derangement would be fascinating, Will if it weren’t so terrifying! 

Figgins: Sue, Will did a little research. According to our test records, most of your cheerleaders are functionally illiterate!

Sue: Oh, so what?

Figgins: And why, only last Friday, at the football game they tried to spell out "Go, team," and they spelled out "To game".

Will: "To game." Since 1992, 95% of your Cheerios should have flunked Spanish and I, for one, am not gonna be a part of it anymore.

Sue: Oh, Will, we all know about your devotion to that dying language!

Will: Dying language?

Sue sits down beside him.

Sue: Let me break this down for you, okay? I empower my Cheerios to be champions. Do they go on to college? I don’t know. I don’t care. Should they learn Spanish? Sure, if they wanna become dishwashers and gardeners. But if they wanna be bankers and lawyers and captains of industry the most important lesson they could possibly learn is how to do a round off.

Will: She is deranged. You know, this all happened on your watch! You have allowed this to go on for years.

Figgins gestured to himself, appalled that Will was blaming him. 

Sue: Say something!

Figgins: Oh, plea... Okay! Sue, Will is correct. You're wrong.

Sue: What?

Figgins: From now on, no free passes. That's it! There.

Will:(going out the door) See you in Glee Club, Sue.

Sue (raising a finger up): Don’t... touch me. (Will touched her anyway.) That is a lawsuit, mister! I will sue your ass!

Sue leaned on the desk. Sue: What happened to our little agreement, huh? Will I be uploading a certain video to YouTube this afternoon?

Figgins: Oh, Sue. I put it on YouTube myself, and it only got two hits!

Sue (whispers): Damn!

Figgins: Let me break it down for you. Nobody cares!

Sue threw a fit.  Figgins: No, not the children! 

––

In Will's Spanish class, Finn passes a note to Quinn while they’re taking a test. 

Quinn: What is this?

Finn: Check it out. I came up with a name that I think would be good for the kid.

Will: Eyes on your own test, Finn.       He saw Finn looking at Quinn.   A bit approach his desk.  What’s up now, Ronnie?

Finn looked back at her. 

Finn: Anyway, then I read that Gwyneth Paltrow named her kid Apple and I think that’s so cool 'cause you know how much I love apples, right? So I figured we should name our kid something more original and poetic. Then I came up with the best baby name of all time.

Quinn opened the paper and it reads....

Finn: Drizzle!

Quinn: Drizzle? 

Finn: Yeah. Yeah. Cause you know how awesome it is when it’s just drizzling outside, but it’s not really raining... so it smells like rain, but you don’t need an umbrella to go outside.

Quiin (annoyed): Are you a moron?

Finn: What?

Quinn: We’re not naming our baby Drizzle. We’re not naming our baby anything. Finish your test, Finn.

Brittany pulls the books to her trying to copy.

Quinn: Will you give me my test back?

Brittany: I just don’t understand anything.

Quinn: That’s not my problem.

In the hallway after the class.

Quinn: You are so insensitive! Bringing up baby names to me when you know I don’t want to keep it. I can’t keep it.

Finn: I know, but I don’t get what you expect me to do about it.

Quinn: Not have an opinion?

Finn: Hey, this is happening to me too!

Quinn: No, it’s not! You’re not the one whose parents will burn her like a witch if they find out. 

Finn: Sometimes I wish you were a little more like Rachel.

Finn said something he really shouldn’t have. Quinn: Really?

Finn: Yeah. She cares about my feelings. She sticks up for me. She sticks up for both of us. She gave that Jacob kid a pair of her underpants just to keep him from posting on his blog about you being pregnant.

Quinn: You think she did that for me? Just to be a good teammate? 

Finn: That's what she told me.

Quinn: I know some guys cheat on their wives or pregnant girlfriends. Just don't do it with her.        She walked away from him. 

––

The New Directions were on the choir room were singing together. 

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Ride With Me BY Nelly

New Directions: Hey, oh, Hey Oh! Where they at, where they at, Where they at, where they at, Where they at, where they at, Where they at, come on now

If you wanna go and take a ride wit me

We three-wheelin' in the fo' with the gold D's Oh why do I live this way? (Hey) Must be the money!

In the club on the late night, feelin' right

Lookin' tryin' to spot somethin' real nice

Lookin' for a little shorty hot and horny So that I can take home (I can take home)

She can be 18 (18) wit an attitude or 19 kinda snotty actin' real rude. But as long as you a thicky thicky thick, girl you know that it's on (Know that it's on)

I peep something comin' towards me up the dance floor sexy and real slow (hey) Sayin' she was peepin' and I dig the last video. So when Nelly, can we go; how could I tell her no? Her measurements were 36-25-34

I like the way you brush your hair and I like those stylish clothes you wear I like the way the light hit the ice and glare and I can see you moving way over there. 

Rachel: I miss us all being together.

Artie: I hope we don't get in trouble for our covert jam session.

Kurt: If Sue catches us mingling, we're cooked. She told me if I even talked to one of Mr. Schue's kids, she would shave my head. (Everyone laughs) And I just can’t rock that look. Even Justin Timberlake is growing his fro back.

Mercedes: Well, we gotta go, you guys.

Brittany: No!   She hugs Santana. 

Mercedes: Miss Sylvester is expecting us in 10 minutes in the dance studio. 

Artie: Bye, white people.

Hey! What are you guys doing here?

Sue's Kids all said bye to Will's Group. But Will saw them in the choir room.

Will: Hey! What are you guys doing here?

Tina: Just s-s-stopping by to say hello.

Will: Ah, it's great to see you guys. Bye. 

Sue's Kids all left the room. 

Will: All right. Great news, guys. Brought the band with me, and I think that we have our number for sectionals.

Rachel: Mr. Schue? We don’t like what this has become.

Will: Don’t you guys see? That is how Sue wants you to feel. Giving up doesn’t help anyone but her. Look, if it were up to me, we would all perform together at sectionals. But it's not up to me anymore, okay? Sue's gonna do her song, and we are gonna do ours. Sue's Kids are singing about hate... literally. (Hands papers to his group.)  So, I thought we would try a kinder approach. All right. Finn and Rachel, come up here. You’re gonna take the leads.

Rachel: Oh, I love this song. Okay. Follow my lead.

Finn: Don't wait for me.

Quinn: So much for togetherness.

Guys, you guys really need to practice this, all right? Night and day, between classes. It has to be letter-perfect. Okay?

Finn: You got it, Mr. S. Hit it.

Rachel: Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air? 

Will's Group: Oh, oh, oh. 

Rachel: If I should die before I wake, it’s 'cause you took my breath away. Losing you is like living in a world with no air, Oh. 

Finn: I’m here alone, don't wanna leave

My heart won’t move; it's incomplete, wish there was a way that I can make you understand. 

Rachel: But how do you expect me to live alone with just me. 'Cause my world revolves around you, it’s so hard for me to breathe. 

Will's Group: No! Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air. (Rachel: Breathe with no air yeah) (Finn: No air) Can’t live, can’t breathe with no air (Rachel: Woah woah) (Finn: No air) It's how I feel whenever you ain’t there (Rachel: Whenever you ain't there) (Finn: No breathing) It’s no air, no air (Rachel: No breathing no) got me out here in the water so deep. (Rachel: So deep) (Finn: So deep) Tell me how you gonna be without me (Rachel: Without me) (Finn: Can’t breathe without you baby)

No air, air (Rachel: Baby, no air) No air, air (Finn: No) No air, air (Finn: Hard for me to breathe) No air, air (Rachel: Oh)

Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air (Rachel: No air) Can’t live, Can’t breathe with no air (Rachel: No no) It's how I feel whenever you ain't there (Rachel: Not there ) It's no air, no air

Rachel: You got me out here in the water so deep

Finn: Tell me how you gonna be without me

Rachel: If you ain’t here, I just can’t breathe

Finn and Rachel: It’s no air, no air

Will: Amazing, guys. Bull's-eye.

Quinn: Excuse me. What about us? You expect us to just sway back here like props? 

(Sue: Say it for me again, word for word.

Quinn: “What about us? You expect us to just sway back here like props?”

Sue: Perfect. Then turn to the other two and say...)

Backstage....

Quinn: I think Sue is right about him. He clearly doesn’t like minorities.

Puck and Brittany look at each other. 

––

In Sue's office, Brittany and Pukc were sitting in the chairs. 

Sue: Can you imagine in this day and age being discriminated against? My goodness. The pain you must be feeling. (Looks to Puck) So your last name's Puckerman, huh?

Puck (raise a fist up): Shalom.

Sue: Who knew? (Looks at Brittany) And poor, sweet Brittany. Oh, I know the Dutch are famous for being a cold people but that’s no excuse for treating you like some half-price hooker in Amsterdam's famous Red Light District. Well, all I can say is, if you’re serious about leaving Schuester Sue Sylvester's rainbow tent will gladly protect you from his storm of racism.

Puck and Brittany look at each other again, but were thinking. 

––

In the Staff lunch room, Will stormed in,  angry. Sue was the only one sitting in the room. 

Will: Who do you think you are?

Sue: Well, now you know how it felt for me

to have my Cheerios snatched away.

Will: I can’t do a song with three kids. 

Sue: Not with that attitude. Look, I’m  prepared to cut you a deal. You pass my Cheerios and I’ll give you back your team of losers and snot faucets.

Will (angrily): Sue Sylvester you’re gonna have to pry those F's from my cold, dead hands.

Will leaves. 

Sue (loudly): Can’t wait, pal!

–––

Quinn confronts Rachel by her locker. 

Quinn: Listen here, treasure trail. We’re about to have a smack-down.

Rachel: I don’t want to have a confrontation. 

Rachel tries to leave but Quinn stops her. 

Quinn: Don’t play stupid with me, stubbles. I’m having Finn’s baby, and you need to back off. I’m asking you as nicely as I possibly can. Leave him alone.

Rachel: You’re right. I-I’ve helped you not because it’s the right thing to do but because I had romantic ulterior motives. But just so we’re clear, you’re the one who’s cheating.

Rachel walked away but Quinn follow her to the staircase. 

Quinn: Excuse me?

Rachel: I have on good authority that you’re Sue Sylvester's mole and you can deny it all you want, but I know it’s true.

Quinn: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Rachel: Sue is not on your side, Quinn. She’s not on anyone's side but her own. Can you imagine what she’s gonna do when she finds out about your situation? She’ll probably try to rip off your uniform with her bare hands. All right. Every time you whisper in her ear you empower her to do more damage to the Glee Club. And right now, Glee Club is all you have. And if I were you, I’d recognize who my true friends are and I’d practice a little bit more because you obviously have a lot you need to express.

Quinn: Oh, you have no idea.

Quinn with the Cheerios: Set me free why don’t-cha baby Get out my life why don’t-cha baby Cause you don’t really love me. You just keep me hangin' on (The Cheerios: Ooh, ooh) You don’t really need me But you keep me hangin' on.

Why do you keep on comin' around playing with my heart. Why don’t you get out of my life and let me make a new start, Let me get over you

The way you’ve gotten over me, Hey!

Set me free why don’t-cha baby Let me be why don’t-cha baby. 'Cause you don’t really love me. You just keep me hangin' on (The Cheerios: Ooh, ooh). No, you don’t really want me you just keep me hangin' on

You say although we broke up, you still wanna be just friends. But how can we still be friends when seeing you only breaks my heart again

Quinn (Spoken): And there ain’t nothing I can do about it (The Cheerios: Whoa whoa whoa)

Quinn with the Cheerios: Set me free why don't-cha baby (The Cheerios: Whoa whoa whoa) get out my life why don't-cha baby (The Cheerios: Ooh, ooh). 

Go on, get out, get out of my life and let me sleep at night, please. 'Cause you don't really love me

You just keep me hangin' on

Quinn: All right, everybody, take five.

––

The Glee Club gathers into the auditorium to witness Will's Group perform. 

Rachel: We would just like to say that although we find ourselves on opposite sides, we hope you enjoy our number and we look forward to seeing yours as well. 

Sue: Get on with it! Enough with the jibber-jabber. Sing something!

Will: Sue, you can’t talk to kids that way.

Rachel: Tell me how I'm supposed to breathe with no air (air, air.)

Sue stood up. Sue: She had her chance. Everybody up. We’re leaving.

Finn: I’m sorry. Is there a fire?

Sue: No, and that’s the point. There is no fire. You know, it’s sad enough that my Sue's Kids are living in squalor and probably on food stamps.

Mercedes: My dad's a dentist.

Sue: But for you to drag 'em in here and bore 'em to death? I won’t stand for it. Come on, kids. Out. We’re goin' for Coneys. My treat.

Will finally snapped and slammed his binder on the ground. Will: All right, that's it!

Sue: Really?

Will: You know what, Sue? You've been pretty honest about your feelings for me so let me return the favor. You’re rude, Sue. You have no class, and you are a terrible teacher!

Sue: I’ll have you know I have my Ph.D.

Will (yelling): You got it online, Sue!

Sue(pointing a finger): You are a failed performer, Will. You weren’t good enough to make it in the real world. You’re not even good enough to run this stupid little club that nobody cares about. Time after time, Will, you fail!

Will: You spend every waking moment of your life figuring out ways to terrify children to try to make you feel better about yourself and the fact that you’re probably gonna spend the rest of your life alone!

Sue shoved Will back. Sue: How dare you talk to me like that!

Will: Don’t you even...

Sue: Don’t you point your...

The slow motion arguing came back until...

Finn (yelling): Enough! (Calms down) I’m sorry, Mr. Schue, Miss Sylvester, but if we wanted to hear Mom and Dad fight those of us who still have two parents would just stay home on payday.

Mercedes: I agree. Glee Club is supposed to be fun. And furthermore, I don’t like this minority business. I may be a strong, proud black woman, but I’m a lot more than that. I’m out.

Tina (stutters): M-Me too. 

Rachel: Fellow Glee Clubbers, it would be an honor to show you how a real storm-out is done. I encourage you to follow my lead.

Thus leading to the entire club to storm out, Sue leaving afterwards and leaving Will alone. 

––

Will comes by Sue's office for a talk. 

Will: Hey Sue. 

Sue: William. Close the door.   He does just that. 

Will: I, uh, wanted to talk to you about the auditorium.

Sue: Good. I wanted to come to you, too, but I have no idea where your office is. Why don’t you have a seat?

Will: Sure.

Sue: So I decided to step down as co-head of Glee.

Will: Really?

Sue: Yeah, it’s not for me. It’s too fruity. I can’t stand the sight of kids getting emotional unless it’s from physical exhaustion.

Will: Yeah. It did get pretty bad in there.

Sue: Yeah. I’d still like to stay on as consigliere. You know, maybe you could show me your set lists before competitions. Just so I feel like I’m contributing.

Will: Cool.

Sue: You know, I was a VJ for a couple of years. Not MTV, but still.

Will: Why do I feel like I’m about to fall through a trapdoor into a pit of fire?

Sue: Because you don't trust me.

Will: Mmm.

Sue: I know my methods are extreme, and I know I’m not like the rest of you hippies caring about the kids' feelings as if they’re real. But I do care about teaching. And when I coach them, and they win, I win. And you know how I feel about winning.

Will: I do. Look. Who's to say everything I do is a hundred percent on the ball?

Sue: No one would say that.

Will: Probably right, but, um, in hindsight you were right to shine the spotlight on the fact that those kids are minorities.

In the choir room, 

Because you’re all minorities. You’re in the Glee Club. Now, there are only 12 of you. And all you have is each other. So it doesn't matter that Rachel is Jewish or that Finn is...

Finn: Unable to tell my rights from my lefts. Making everyone chuckle. 

Will: Sure. Or that Santana is Latina... or that Quinn is...

Sue(cutting in):  Is pregnant. Sorry, Q. It'll be all over the blogosphere by this afternoon. Now everybody knows... including me.

Sue left the room, as Quinn was shocked and so upset. Rachel couldn’t help but feel so bad. 

Rachel confronted Jacob at his locker, closing it. Rachel: How could you do that? Do you have any idea how much pain you caused by running that story?

Jacob: Sue made me do it.

(In Sue's office, Sue was holding a pair of panties that belongs to Rachel. Sue: This was a particularly interesting find from today's round of locker checks. Are these your droopy, white granny panties, Jacob? Are you an Eve who was born a Steve? Because if you are, I think there's a special

school that would better address your needs. And I think that school is in Thailand.

Jacob: Rachel gave them to me so I wouldn’t run the Quinn story.

Sue: What Quinn story?

Jacob: Quinn Fabray is pregnant.

Sue: Not a chance. If my head cheerleader was pregnant, jeopardizing the very future of my Cheerios and thus my teaching tenure, I think she would have come to me. Quinn Fabray respects me and would never lie to me. Never.

Jacob: I have three sources confirming. Please don’t expel me. I’ll kill the story.

Sue: No. Run it.)

Jacob: I’m sorry, Rachel.

Rachel turned to see Finn holding a distraught Quinn. 

Finn: It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything's gonna be okay.

–––

In the auditorium, everyone was wearing white tops and black pants singing “Keep Holding On” by Avril Lavigne. 

Rachel: You’re not alone together we stand, I’ll be by your side. You know, I'll take your hand

Finn (New Directions): And when it gets cold, And it feels like the end.  There’s no place to go You know, I won’t give in in (Aaah-aaah) (and Rachel: No, I won’t give in, Yeah! Yeah!)

Rachel (Finn and Rachel with New Directions): (Keep holding on) 'Cause, you know, we’ll make it through, (with Finn: we'll make it through) (Just stay strong) 'Cause, you know, I’m here for you, (with Finn: I'm here for you)

Finn and Rachel (with New Directions):

There's nothing you can say (New Directions: Nothing you can say)

Nothing you can do (New Directions: Nothing you can do)

There's no other way (when it comes to the truth)

So, (keep holding on)

'Cause, you know, we'll make it through, we'll make it through

Hear me when I say, when I say I believe nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna change destiny. Whatever's meant to be will work out perfectly (Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Yeah)

Rachel with New Directions: La da da da La da da da, La da da da da da da da da...

Rachel (Finn and Rachel with New Directions): (Keep holding on) 'Cause, you know, we’ll make it through, (with Finn: we’ll make it through)

New Directions Girls (New Directions Boys):

(Oooh-oh!) Ah, ah, ah-ah-ah Ah, ah, ah-ah-ah (Oh-oh!) Ah, ah, ah-ah-ah (Finn and Rachel: Keep holding on!) Ah, ah, ah-ah-ah. 

Finn and Rachel (with New Directions): There’s nothing you can say (New Directions: Nothing you can say). Nothing you can do (New Directions: Nothing you can do) There’s no other way (when it comes to the truth) (So,) (New Directions: keep holding on) Keep holding on 'Cause, you know, we’ll make it through, we’ll make it through. 

I’m splitting the parts that aren’t in school.