#also this is my first time using the new editor so if this fucks up it's not my fault lmaoooo

[rafesangelita]

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ kook!sweetheart!reader walks her first runway for her own lingerie brand, and of course rafe has a front row seat.

warnings: rafe being a supportive bf, suggestive ending

a/n: trying a new fic layout, i hope you all like it as much as i do <3 lol i had the hardest time trying to decide on the song i wanted to use for this fic

you couldn’t believe the day was finally here. ever since you started your lingerie line, you wanted to have a runway show to showcase the beautiful pieces, and all thanks to rafe, he was able to make that possible. while your boyfriend insisted on being backstage with you, you told him to wait until you walked out for the finale, wanting to surprise him in full glam and a set you have yet to release. to say you were excited would be an understatement— you were literally having your very own victoria secret show.

with fashion bloggers, magazine editors, and most importantly; rafe, the man who believed in you more than yourself, being in attendance, you just wanted everything to take place smoothly. “oh my god, you look amazing!” you glanced up from the small vanity mirror, meeting kelce’s girlfriend’s gaze. “me?!” your eyes widened as you shot up from your seat. “look at you! kelce is going to lose his mind.” you laughed, admiring the way her makeup sparkled under the studio lights.

“you think so?” she smiled, both of you swallowing nervously when you heard a ‘okay, we’re on in five!’ over one of the staff’s walkie talkie’s. “oh, god, just what i needed to hear.” you joked. she hugged you before joining the rest of the girls in line. outside in the crowd, rafe was already taking pictures like a proud facebook mom, shushing kelce and topper once the lights dimmed and the music started. the intro to britney spear’s ‘gimme more’ began playing, the crowd letting out a series of ‘oooh’s’ and ‘ahhh’s’ when the first model walked out.

rafe was only recording for your sake, his eyes strictly set on his hands as he patiently waited for your entrance. everything that the models were wearing was something he had already seen on you behind closed doors. rafe couldn’t help but feel his chest bloom with pride as he looked around the beautiful venue. despite him paying for everything, you were the one who worked with the planner and coordinator to bring your vision to life.

and what a vision it was.

you had spotlights lining the runway, glitter littering the glossy flooring. various props were also placed on the sidelines. “look, here comes y/n!” rafe arched a brow at his friend, kelce clearing his throat awkwardly. “don’t get too excited, now..” rafe grumbled, eyes locked on your silhouette. the music reached it’s final bridge, your lingerie clad body illuminating the stage. rafe had no words. you were wearing wings like the angel you truly were, the rhinestones and embellishments on your set reflecting under the now multicolored lighting.

“you’re beautiful, babygirl!” rafe shouted, his eyes widening as you got closer. you looked ethereal. not one hair was out of place, your makeup done flawlessly to enhance your natural features. you caught sight of him, sending a wink his way before blowing him a kiss. “she’s getting it tonight.” he held a hand over his heart, watching the way your hips swayed as cameras flashed from every direction. rafe stayed standing up until you disappeared behind the stage, his smile reaching from ear to ear.

“now that’s a show..” he adjusted himself in his pants, posting you on his instagram with the caption; ‘she’s perfect.’

eventually, the event came to a star strucking end, your boyfriend meeting you soon after with a huge bouquet of pink roses. you couldn’t help the sudden wave of emotions from washing over you at the sight of him. “oh, rafe!” you threw yourself into his arms, being careful not to ruin your makeup. “you were so amazing out there, baby.” he rubbed your back. “yeah?” you pulled away, pecking his lips. “fuck yeah.” his voice dropped a few octaves, his hand finding the curve of your ass. “can you take those angel wings home?” he whispered.

“yes.. why?” you smiled mischievously. “cause i need you to walk for me again. naked this time.”

[performativezippers]

fanfic writer habits i've had to unlearn when trying to traditionally publish original work

a list in no particular order in case you're curious

starting sentences with "And"

so. many. one sentence. paragraphs. like, yeah, this is fun for The Drama but also...not how books work

using italics for emphasis--gotta use your WORDS, zippy

head hopping. rereading old fanfics i wrote, i'm like, WHOSE POV IS THIS?? HOW WOULD JANE KNOW MAURA THINKS THIS?? jesus christ keep your pov tight, zipperoni. i had to really learn this when i was revising my first book and my agent pointed it out.

Oh. Oh. some of these are good but too many are oh [failure]

Using scene breaks to skip through transitions instead of actually transitioning. this one i'm working on right now and it's haaaaaaard.

scene choreography. if someone is holding something, do they ever put it down? are they STILL HOLDING IT NOW, FIVE YEARS LATER?

overwriting vs using a lighter touch. "that's normal. that's casual. that's fine." sometimes that's great for emphasis, but if it was always just "that's casual. that's fine." the point comes across the same way, and doesn't hit you over the head with it as much.

introducing new characters and making them memorable, vivid, and not sucking up too much space when the reader doesn't recognize them (it's lena! i love her!)

pacing! things have to happen at specific times, the book needs to end at a specific time, the conflict needs to be sown here and explode there. making that all feel organic and honest for the characters while also conforming to the genre expectations that have very little flexibility (especially for a new author trying to convince publishers I know how to write books)

ending things at the right time. at first i wrote too far beyond the climax (classic fanfic problem) and then now i seem to have swung too far in the other direction and am ending too soon after it. but the good news is that my editor asked for an epilogue. you know what that means?? A WHOLE SHORT CHAPTER OF FLUFF Y'ALL!!!

Does this need to be a curse word or can it be a different word? i mean often it fucking needs to but not always!

Just cut out the word just almost all of the time even if it feels like it's just the right word; it will hurt just a little but you should just do it.

use as much sex as the plot needs. incorporate it into the plot. don't change the tone of the piece. make it stay in character and also be hot and also serve the narrative.

got questions? want examples? have thoughts? what other things have you caught yourself doing, or notice when you read through your old stuff?

[obsessivestar]

'What If It's All A RomCom?' - a Ted Nivison x Reader.

{{-Story Description: You're a youtuber with a fairly decent following deciding to help your good friend Tanner with a minor film project, with you set as the leading lady. When the actor for the male lead is a no show, Ted takes up the role himself. One problem: This short film's a Rom Com, and you just met the guy.-}}

//18+, Def gonna be some smut. Reader is implied to be afab, under 5'5 and has specifically named friends, all who have no real connection to Ted.

This story will be in multiple chapters. Also gonna post this on Wattpad and Ao3 (when I figure them out LMAO) under the same username: ObsessiveStarla. Hope you enjoy :^)

Also idk how to do all the fancy Tumblr border stuff so sorry if it's all messy :^(((//

Word count: 2.3k

Chapter 1: No Show, No Movie.

I'm keeping my eye on the road, occasionally glancing at the GPS to make sure I can guide my buddy Tanner as he drives. We had quite an early morning to get to L.A., having been on the road for the last 2 hours to get to this airbnb we'll be staying at. Tanner's nearing the end of film school, so he's getting all his classmates and anyone else that's available and interested to help him with his big final project: A legit short film, filmed, written and directed by him. Having some experience with being on camera myself, he elected to make me part of the main cast. I don't mind at all, if it'll help him out. Even if it's a romantic comedy. I'll kiss some dude, get him that 100%. I'm excited for this.

"Has Conner messaged me at all?" Tanner asks, breaking the last 20 minutes of silence. I quit out of my daydream to check Tanner's messages. Other members of the crew have updated them on their location, including a name I don't recognize, but Conner hasn't responded at all.

"Nope. Mostly everyone else is nearly there though." I responded, lightly shrugging my shoulders. A humorous but knowing smirk creeps along the edges of my lips. "Think he slept in?" "I fucking hope not." Tanner huffs, his tone suggesting he's half-joking. "He is literally /the/ male lead. He's like one of the people I need there the most today."

I put the GPS back up on the screen and lay back against the passenger seat, slightly raising a brow to myself. What would happen if he's late, or doesn't show up at all? Could we even get a replacement in time? We only booked this place for the next couple weeks.

As we get off the highway and get even closer to our destination, I see a notification pop up on Tanner's phone, it's the name I don't recognize. Ted. He's not in our friend group and I don't recall Tanner mentioning him from class.

"Is Ted a new guy?" I ask, turning my head to Tanner. "Oh, no, he's like...a friend of a friend." Tanner pauses before reiterating "He's going to be the editor. He's a youtuber, like you; he went to film school as well."

"Oh. He's like the only name I didn't recognize."

"Yeah, he's a cool guy, no worries, he'll probably be there with me to help with the, yknow, directing too."

There's room for a response, but I don't continue the conversation. We don't have a lot of money to put into this, so that airBnb is also where we'll be filming everything. Most of the film crew and extra actors got their own accommodations elsewhere, but some of us will be staying /at that/ location itself. Wonder if that includes the editor? It'd be weird to share a house with a dude I didn't know, but if Tanner trusts him, I will as well. "I know where to go from here, let everyone know we'll be there soon."

I take Tanner's phone and let everyone know we're close by, including Ted, before setting the phone aside. Tanner pulls into what I thought was a street at first, only to notice its the driveway of the airbnb. Wild how we can't afford multiple sets and hotels, but can afford this villa-like estate for nearly a month. Hey, whatever works, right?

Tanner parks by the many other vehicles and grabs his phone before we both hop out. I can't help but look up at how tall the building is. It looks like one of those frat houses an influencer would own, like if you told me this was owned by fuckin' 'disney channel flow' Team 10, I would 100% believe you.

Tanner and I are greeted by most of the cast and crew as we approach the front door of the house, giving the appropriate hugs and handshakes as we head inside. That's when I spotted a tall man in a dark green sweater fixing up some professional looking cameras, dark hair slicked up to add to his already impressive height, with circular glasses to match the relaxed vibe I'm getting from him. To be fair, he only stands out so much to me because I don't recognize him. This must be Ted.

He looks up from his camera when he spots Tanner and I greeting the other crew members. I casually glance away to one of the pictures on the wall to avoid giving the impression I was staring. I have a habit of fixing my eyes onto people without realizing it.

"Traffic?" Is the first word I hear out of Ted's mouth, directed at Tanner. I don't really know what I was expecting to hear come out of this man, but it certainly wasn't a voice like that. It's strong, deep, almost fake sounding, like he's already playing a character, but no, that's just him.

"Dude, we passed by, like, 3 accidents" Tanner shakes his head slightly, putting his hands on his hips. "And Conner hasn't even gotten back to me, It's been an interesting morning."

As they have their conversation, my thoughts turn to a more curious nature as I contemplate what this guy actually does as a youtuber. If he went to film school as well, does he make long video essays? Commentary, like me?

"This is (Y/N), mine and Joe's friend." My thoughts are cut by the sound of my name, realizing Tanner was introducing me to Ted. Makes sense. We don't know each other. "She's gonna be the female lead."

"Ahhh okay, nice to finally meet you. I'm Ted." Ted personally greets me with a gentle handshake and a winning complexion. I return the handshake with a shy smile. "'Finally'?" I repeat to him, raising a slight brow.

"Yeah! Joe's told me about you, 'said you'd be shorter"

A sudden chuckle escapes me. Joe's my best friend and is part of the wardrobe team, of course he'd say something like that. "He's a dick.." I kid, shaking my head to myself. "You, on the other hand, are a fuckin' giant."

"Oh I know. I have to fuckin' duck down to get into any room upstairs. Tallhood ain't what its cut out to be" We both get a laugh out before Ted returns to setting up the cameras. I notice Tanner checking his phone again, visibly both anxious and frustrated.

"Man." Tanner speaks, seemingly thinking aloud. "Still nothing." "Isn't he the other lead?" Ted speaks as he moves to adjust the stand of one of the lights, glancing up through his round glasses. "I figured he'd be here first."

"He should've been here first." Tanner huffs, masking his clear frustration with a chuckle. "I-I don't know what I'm gonna do if he just doesn't show." "What would we have to do?" I tilt my head at Tanner, feeling a little anxious myself.

"I have no idea, honestly" Tanner responds, shaking his head. "At best, we'd have to find someone to take his place within the next, like, couple days. At worst, I'd have to cancel this whole thing."

I frown, trying to think of some helpful alternative in my head, but nothing comes up. I'd hate for everyone to have to go home, and getting the money back for the airbnb would be a hassle. We all pitched in for this place. As much as I've joked about it, it's pretty nice. 5 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, half the place is a giant living room and there's even more outside. I'd hate to leave without getting to sleep in one of those giant beds. All I can do is hope for the best, I guess.

About an hour passes. At this point, everyone except Conner has shown up on set and most of us that will be on camera are fitted and ready. We had already read through the entire script together over Discord prior to getting here, so all we need to do is just start filming.

I'm refreshing my memory with the script when I hear a notification ping from Tanner's phone. It takes him less than a second to pick it up and look at the message, pausing to read it. I see his expression go from relief to uneasy, his thumbs tapping on his phone's keyboard louder than usual as he responds before setting his phone down and taking a deep breath.

"Conner can't make it."

Silence fills the room for a moment as everyone looks up from their tasks. I approach Tanner, script still on hand.

"What? What does he mean he can't make it?" I asked, honestly shocked with what I was hearing. "So, yknow how he's just...not been responding since we left?" Tanner asks, looking understandably annoyed.

"Yeah?"

"Apparently he ate some bad food last night and has been throwing up since 4am. We left at 5."

The only thing I can do is run my fingers through my hair in frustration. Dude probably ordered bad chicken or something. Of course. "So our main dude, THE male leading role or whatever, has food poisoning." I say that as a statement, but I'm honestly just so confused, I don't want to believe it. "What do we do now? Could we hire someone else in time?" "Even if we could, we wouldn't have time to get the chemistry built up between you two." Tanner shrugs. "There'd be no way of knowing if it'll work out."

"I'll do it."

Tanner and I turn our heads to Ted, who's joined in on the conversation shortly after assembling the last light. My first instinct is to let out a sigh of relief, but I steel myself, trying to really process what he's offering.

"You? You wanna be the male lead?" Tanner points at Ted, rather surprised he'd offer. Ted seemed to laugh at the expression on Tanner's face "What's that fuckin' look for? You think I can't be romantic, Tanner?" "No--" Tanner cackles, putting his palms up defensively as he laughed. "That's not it! I just-- you haven't read the script, and, yknow..." Tanner pauses, shrugging his shoulders and tilting his head in my direction. "You two just met, you'll have to, yknow--"

"'Yknow? Yknow?' I KNOW, Tanner. I. know." Ted begins to mock Tanner in a friendly manner while pointing at himself, his strong voice easily overpowering Tanner's timid tone. "I've been doin' this since you were in little baby diapers, alright? I can read the script, I can kiss the pretty lady, I got this!"

I suddenly feel a whole lot warmer, resisting the urge to put a hand to my cheek. I mean, I have blush on already, but now I'm definitely blushing. I'll have to kiss this guy?

I mean.

That ain't a bad thing.

That's a nice lookin' dude. I'd be blind not to see it.

But I did just meet him.

"I mean...." Tanner seems to be at a loss for words, glancing in my direction once more. I realize I've been one of the main talking pieces of this conversation, yet I haven't spoken a word. "Ah--I.." I stammer out what was meant to be a coherent response, realizing I'm a bit more sheepish about this than I thought I'd be. He called me pretty. I...don't know what to do with that. I can handle a compliment, sure, but this was...

"Hey, sorry, I don't wanna step over any lines..." Ted's smile faded after my lack of a response, resting his hands behind his back. "Oh no! I-I wouldn't mind it at all." I finally managed to speak up. I swear, I felt like a bashful damsel in those old transatlantic-accent films. "I mean, like, better this than sending everyone packing early, right?"

"Real flattering." Ted responded with a renewed smile and a chuckle, getting another sheepish blush from me. "Whatever works for everyone, I'm down for it."

Based on Tanner's knowing expression, I can tell he gathered something of use from whatever that exchange was. "I mean..." Tanner repeats again, as if to remind us he's also there with filler words before taking in a sharp breath of realization, or maybe it was one of acceptance, I couldn't tell. Either way, he had an idea. "OK, how about this: most of the crew didn't get breakfast on the way up here and we're all gettin' pretty hungry, we could use some caffeine. How about you two head back out and get everyone something from Dunkin' or wherever? Get talkin', see if it works."

"You setting us up on a breakfast run, or a date?" I collect myself fast enough to make a joke, actually getting a decent chuckle out of Ted. Part of me couldn't believe I had even made that joke aloud, I was also kind of genuinely asking. "I am testing the chemistry." Tanner clarified slowly with a half smile. "And I...don't want to do it myself."

Ted and I look at each other, giving me a brief moment to realize Ted's eyes are brown. Don't know why I've chosen to collect that information now. Just another observation I've made for the day.

...Man, I'm hungry.

"Alright, but I'm not driving your car." I agree with a shrug. "No need, I got my Tacoma." Ted responds, making a clicking noise with his mouth and gesturing me to follow him outside.

"You...have your city in Washington?" I ask genuinely, getting another laugh out of him, not intentionally this time. "Toyota Tacoma. My truck." He corrects me, guiding me to an old dark green pick-up truck. "I've had this baby since high school. Graduated with it."

"Ahh, your high school sweetheart. Lovely. Happy to meet her."

"Fuck off" Ted jokingly scoffs, hopping into the drivers seat. I have this big grin on my face as I get into the passenger side. He's giving me this...oddly comforting vibe. I can talk and joke with this guy so naturally, like I've known him for longer than an hour.

Somehow, I get the feeling we'll get along just fine, even if I'll end up having to kiss him once or twice this month....

....That's got me thinking, how many times am I kissing this guy again?

__________________________________

|| Chapter 2 || Chapter 3 || Chapter 4 || Chapter 5 || Chapter 6 (smut) || Chapter 7 || Chapter 8 || Chapter 9 || Chapter 10 (smut) || Chapter 11 || Chapter 12 || Chapter 13 || Chapter 14 (smut) ||

[bengiyo]

Wandee Goodday Ep 4 Stray Thoughts

Last week, we got to see Dee and Yak getting mutual pleasure from their current arrangement before Wandee got embarrassed at work and decided to lie and say he had a new boyfriend. Dee asked Yak to be his fake boyfriend, but Yak refused on the grounds that they agreed to not get involved in each other's personal lives and also he didn't want to come out as a boxer. Dee ignored this resistance and then tried to trick Yak into spending time with him to get him to agree. Yak, ever the simp, acquiesced after Dee showed vulnerability. Also, we got more insight into Oyei and Cher, learning that Oyei took on debt during COVID, and Cher comes from a wealthy family. The two are a team and I love them.

Whoa are we opening on a nightmare memory?

Okay, I like this moment. If they're going to be friends with benefits, this is definitely a moment when Yak needed a friend.

Drake's tiddies is out. A gift for me and @happypotato48 and @yankeebastard who is here saying "Hey, Daddy."

Yes, Kao, ask that man direct questions. Now, throw Ter into the pool.

Poor Kwan. Ter seems more concerned with Dee than her.

NOT ROOM 666!!! THE DEVIL! This show said "Don't feel sorry for him. Even the Devil can feel a little bad when he got kicked out of heaven."

This show is so good. We cut beautifully to Yoryak enjoying the same offering Dee had given The Devil.

Very invested in these two talking about their crushes between their own tussles.

We got a new sign! "Be Available But Not For Everyone."

Be careful, Dee. Don't fall in love after telling him to practice confessing.

Interesting. I think Cher knows that Yak has plans beyond boxing and this gym. @yankeebastard thinks it might be a promise Yak made to his mom.

Cher is so gentle and careful with Yak. He lets Yak tell him what he needs to say with such sensitive prodding.

Not Yak getting horny listening to Dee exert himself and remembering their hookups.

The editors are doing a great job with the audio cues this week.

Wow, Taem is clearly a leader of Team Tote Bag.

Hold your ankles? Definitely not the first time Yak has been told that, among other things, I'm sure.

Dee, you gotta sort yourself when it comes to Yak.

I love that Oyei is always trying to get Cher in the shower with him.

Kao jumped up quick at the tea, and is so real for wanting to choke Dee out.

Keeping track of these two almost forgetting themselves and kissing. Excellent gay content.

The Devil is back and he is jealous. I hate this man. He meant it before when he said he didn't like men or Dee. Fuck this guy.

The whole gym is judging them and I love it.

Why wear your gym shirts if you don't want to be seen?

Oyei and Cher judging them together is so important to me.

Very smooth of Cher to just talk them out of the conversation about the parents.

David was correct about the mom.

Yes, scratch his back. I love the use of metaphor on this show.

Poor Kwan. I'm glad she can see through Ter.

I love Kao. Tell your friend is he embarrassing both of you.

Kao said try out my new line of products

Yoryak thought he was outside of the MySpace top 8 and got his feelings hurt.

I really liked the way they handled this HPV PSA. Good job, BL.

That was a solid episode. I like that they're tackling the blurring of the lines in the relationship explicitly, and I like that Dee recognizes that he's jealous. It's interesting having The Devil call out the relationship as fake and be right and wrong. I wanna think about the parents for a bit, because Cher checking that Oyei was okay with Yoryak felt pointed.

[ponett]

I have now finally seen the Mario movie. It was Pretty Good. Here are my wordy thoughts on it. (I am going to spoil the entire movie. Duh.)

In many ways, the Mario movie does what I wish the first Sonic movie had done. They just took the characters and the premise and the world from the games, and made it a straightforward animated adventure movie. It's bright and colorful and remixes things JUST enough to include fun elements from multiple games, and it doesn't make Mario get adopted by James Marsden or whatever. It even has the music!

That's all you really need, right? Right...?

I'll get this out of the way up front. Chris Pratt was fine. He's fine

If anything, it really feels like they did the movie a disservice by letting us hear so little of the Mario voice in the previews. It took one scene for Pratt to disappear into the role for me. It was totally fine. If anything, I found Charlie Day's normal voice coming out of Luigi WAY more distracting, even if I did like him in the role.

Everyone else was pretty good, for the most part. Jack Black was obviously very good as Bowser, but I'm biased. Seth Rogen does the Seth Rogen laughs as Donkey Kong, but I thought DK was fun, too. (I liked his little rivalry with Mario where he was just constantly giving him shit.) The only casting choice I truly hated was Fred Armisen as Cranky Kong. I hated every line that came out of his mouth. He sounds atrocious. Just the worst. I swear to fucking god if they do a DKC movie and we have to hear him for 90 minutes

I did think Peach was lacking, but that was on the script, not Anya Taylor-Joy's performance. It's cool to see Peach fight, but it's one of those all too common instances where the writers put so much effort into making the main girl kick ass and be an effortlessly confident girlboss that they forgot to give her an actual personality. Not that I'd point to Super Princess Peach and its mood swing superpowers as positive representation or anything, but there's a happy middle ground, surely. Shrek was 22 years ago, just having the princess do flying kung fu kicks isn't enough.

Okay. With the voices out of the way, let's talk about the big picture:

It's way better than the words "Illumination Mario movie" implied, and I mostly enjoyed my time with it. The spirit of Mario is there 100%. But I'd also describe it as "ruthlessly efficient."

This was perhaps the main complaint critics had, and they were absolutely right. People have responded to these totally average reviews with "Well, what did you expect? Shakespeare?! It's MARIO!!" Like, yes, I would prefer it if the movie I paid to see had writing that was good instead of bad. What a shocker. My issue isn't that it's not "high-brow" enough. The problem is that it feels mercenary. It feels like an editor went through and deleted almost every line of dialogue that isn't some form of exposition, at the expense of the pacing. Any scene that's not a montage or some sort of action is kept as short as they could make it, with barely any room for embellishment, character interaction, or anything other than the bare minimum word count to hit all the typical Save the Cat Hollywood screenwriting 101 story beats to the letter. There aren't even as many jokes as you might think (and the ones that are there are extremely hit or miss, including a lot of the slapstick with Mario himself).

Mario and Peach's little arc together in the front half of the film is probably the worst example of this pacing. Even having read reviews that complained about how fast Peach goes from meeting Mario (by her admission the first other human she's ever met) to deciding to train him as the new savior of the Mushroom Kingdom, I was SHOCKED at how fast it was. They don't even lampshade it.

Peach takes Mario straight into the big training sequence where he learns how to use mushrooms and jump over platforming obstacles. Peach is apparently already a hypercompetent platforming pro and a great fighter, so there's no clear reason why she's taking the time to train this random guy to be half as good as her when the world is in danger. Then they set off on their adventure, Toad joins them, and we get a VERY brief travel montage. It's about thirty seconds total - just long enough to give Peach a line about how she wants to protect this beautiful world of hers to try and give her some stakes. We get the genre-mandated nighttime campfire heart to heart, which is exactly long enough to have Mario say he misses Luigi and to have Peach give the two sentence summary of her origin story and not a second longer. Then they reach the Kongs, and their big journey is complete. (They barely interact for the rest of the movie.) So much of the movie is like this - always ready to get on to the next scene as soon as a new one starts.

I'm not criticizing the script because I expect The Super Mario Bros. Movie to be a prestige drama - although there are certainly halfhearted attempts at a dramatic arc. The stuff with Mario's family was a fun enough idea, but again, ruthless efficiency. We get one quick scene with them at the start to give Mario some pathos, because I guess Save the Cat said he's gotta have some pathos. And then Mario gets his dad's approval amidst the action of the final battle in Brooklyn to resolve his arc, just so the movie can end as quickly as possible once Bowser is defeated. (Despite now having the approval of their family and their community back in Brooklyn, Mario and Luigi move to the Mushroom Kingdom off-screen without a single word dedicated to this decision, because that's where they live in the games.)

Look. I am not comparing it to The Godfather. Don't give me that shit. I am not asking for an extra half hour to explore Mario and Luigi's childhood trauma. I am not asking for the complex inner workings of the Mushroom Kingdom monarchy. I know this is gonna be a basic Hero's Journey adventure for kids. It just feels like it's turning down so many opportunities to have a little fun with the characters, to let them interact and play off of each other, to let there be some adventure on this adventure. This is the first time we've gotten to see these characters interact with fully voiced dialogue in a very, very long time! "Yeah, it's not High Art, but it's FUN!" Stories are fun! Character interactions are fun! The script could be having so much more fun!! It is adamantly against making the Story parts of this story-driven movie any more Fun than they functionally need to be!!!

Mario, Peach, and Toad's journey to find the Kongs is shorter than the training montage that precedes it. After the opening, Bowser mostly just sits in his castle and waits for the third act to start. Luigi's there, too, but he only gets one scene with Bowser and then the movie mostly forgets he exists until the climax. He doesn't even get to try and sneak out of Bowser's castle and get up to hijinx. He's just there to be a motivation for Mario, so he sits in a cage for half the movie. It's the bare outline of a script with action scenes added in.

Aside from the fact that it's Jack Black singing as Bowser, I feel like this overly-efficient script might be part of the reason why the "Peaches" scene stands out so much. It's a moment that didn't strictly need to be there to keep the plot moving or to provide an action setpiece. It's not even a reference to another Mario thing. It's just a fun and memorable little character moment that's there for its own sake. That's what the movie needed more of. To stop and smell the roses more often. To play in the space.

To be clear, this isn't a unique problem with this movie. Critics have been noting for years that second acts are disappearing from big Hollywood movies in favor of the Act I plot setup and the Act III action, even though Act II is supposed to be where you get to explore your actual premise. And lots of animated movies give me this exact same vibe of being too "screenwriterly," or feeling like they had an executive breathing down their necks and demanding changes based on focus testing. But these common issues are why I come away mostly feeling like the movie is on the better end of "average," rather than totally blowing my mind. You have seen this movie many times before, just not with Mario in it.

And, of course, there's the music. The score by Brian Tyler based on various classic Mario and Donkey Kong tunes (frustratingly all attributed to Koji Kondo) is absolutely beautiful, but it's unfortunately frequently overshadowed by the licensed music. Everyone already complained about things like the use of Take On Me in place of a lovingly arranged DKC medley, but it feels illustrative of the tug of war the movie is caught in the middle of, between wanting to be a lavishly faithful Mario movie and wanting to be a generic tentpole animated adventure movie. Every single licensed song used is the most obvious, overused song they could have picked for the scene. It reeks of cynical executive meddling and it took me out of the movie every time.

But there really was a lot of care and love put into this movie - more than probably any other video game movie ever made, not that that's a high bar. I don't want to underplay that too much amidst all my complaints spurred by the absolutely insane response to the reviews.

Aside from the countless background references that people will be picking apart for years, touches like the Captain Toad tune playing in the background of Toad's introduction or the Mario Kart 8 menu music playing in the kart garage really help bring it to another level of authenticity. I also enjoyed seeing some more obscure Mario enemies that felt like they were picked more for being fun to animate than for being nostalgic and marketable. No matter how many times I sarcastically pointed to the screen and deadpanned "reference. reference." I am not immune to noticing these things and smiling. I am not immune to the DK Rap. These alone don't make the movie good, but it's nice to have a video game movie that feels like it was made by people who like video games.

Most importantly, the animation is great throughout. It's leaps and bounds ahead of other Illumination work, and it's the best the Mario cast has ever looked. They even made Donkey Kong handsome, somehow. They're all so squishy and expressive, and they move so fluidly - especially in the action scenes. I particularly liked the more kinetic ones like the aerial Banzai Bill chase and the Mario Kart sequence. Truly, the Mad Max-inspired car battle on Rainbow Road where Mario literally does the speedrun shortcut is this movie firing on all cylinders.

Other, more hand-to-hand fights nail the Popeye-esque vibe Mario should be going for. He's an underdog who gets the shit kicked out of him by bigger, stronger opponents until he gets his signature powerup and turns the tables on them. My favorite animation of all probably came from the use of Cat Mario to turn the tide in the DK fight. They had so much fun making Mario move like a cat. Again, it feels like a choice made because it'd be fun to animate rather than just a nostalgia move.

It's that animation and that attention to detail that carry the film, really. They elevate it from mediocrity into being a fun watch for a fan like me, albeit one I couldn't help but pick apart with Anthony as we watched it at home. I'm glad I saw it, but there's a lot of room to improve with the inevitable sequel. I hope they do. I can't deny that I had fun with the movie, but I hope next time that fun is partially because of the script instead of in spite of it.

Stray thoughts:

Overall, I would say I enjoyed the movie a lot more than Sonic 1, but probably not as much as Sonic 2. Not that these movies need to be pitted against each other.

I hated the Luma. I hated how hilarious they clearly thought the Luma was. They have the fucking Luma break the fourth wall to end the movie and start the credits. This is going to be a deep cut for fans of bad animated films, but the whole time I was just thinking of the little fish from Romeo & Juliet: Sealed With A Kiss who's just the director's kid saying random nonsense. You know I'm right

I rolled my eyes at the "our princess is in another castle" joke and several other jokes that would have been dated in a gamer webcomic 20 years ago but I guess they had to be there

How much of Brooklyn did Bowser's giant floating castle take out? We know 9/11 happened in this universe because the Freedom Tower is there, hasn't New York been through enough

I can't believe there's a Diskun easter egg

The dog is the most Illumination character design in the movie. It felt like it wandered on set from The Secret Life of Pets

Mario being a gamer and playing Kid Icarus of all things just made me remember this tweet:

Yes Anthony did get mad at me for being thirsty for Bowser

[drenched-in-sunlight]

Hi there! I wanted to say your art is absolutely incredible and always brings me back to Elden Ring when I forget just how amazing the game is. I live for your depictions of Marika.🥹

I was partly just curious after you posted the recent family tree, is there a reaspn Ranni and Radahn don't make as much of an appearance in your drawings? What is your thoughts on their questline/storyline in general?

Thanks for all the cool art, you're getting better with every piece!!

tbh... i think draw Ranni a lot, she's literally the cover of my first fromsoft fanbook 🥲🥲

though most of my art of her is from 2 years ago, i wouldn't say i don't draw her often at all 😭 i've drawn Radahn 4-5 times too. i understand because i draw too much, it's easy to have an impression that i draw some specific characters less, but compared to, say, the Omen Twins or Rykard or Melina (who i keep meaning to draw but haven't got around to do so yet), Radahn and Ranni are two Carian characters i draw the most of that side of the family (well, Rellana is looking to dethrone them soon but you get what i mean aksfkjdfkj)

Radahn dudebro fans keep pointing fingers saying i hate him but i actually like him. as a guyfailure that is so obsessed with these symbols of a Lord in his father and Godfrey, yet failed to live up to any of them (*stare at that scene of Morgott whooping his ass*). his involvement in the DLC is an interesting spin on things to me, and make a lot of sense in the grand scheme of things (when i saw that we found like... 11 Miquella's Lily in places most personal to Radahn like Carian Manor and Sellia. hoo boy).

lately, i lowkey think Radagon specifically picked him for Miquella and encouraged his obsession with being a Lord. to me at least Radagon is really bitter that Godfrey is the First Lord and not him (her actual other's half! sentenced to live away from her while another man got to be her first in everything! the injustice!), so him not only discrediting Godfrey's descendants (whole thing with Hunters of TWLiD) but also preparing a whole new pair of Lord and God that should have been how he and Marika could have been from the start sounds like the kind of overcompensation he'd be doing (look honey that could be us but you tripping).

so in a way i do feel for Radahan and Miquella falling victims to Radagon's list of issues (though it's only one reason in many other reasons for them to turn out that way ofc. Radagon merely nudges the pieces into certain direction, they go barreling head first down on their own). and i actually like that i could come up with all that thanks to the DLC. imo it actually adds a lot more to Radahn and Miquella's character (depends on how you view the story though whoops).

you can say i like him (and Miq) the way one likes AC6 Iguazu... or Genichiro. the kind of hater characters that are doomed to fail from the start, but they are stubborn and will run head first into the wall again and again. and it's fun to put them in a jar and shake them.

Ranni... after the DLC my feeling for her is a bit more complicated. before i get why she did all those things and i like her story enough, but after the DLC as you see i come to really like Godwyn and links him closely to Marika. so now it's kinda awkward for me to insert Ranni in all the scenarios im drawing lately?

it's not that i stop liking her, it's simply that the scenario doesn't line up for me to add her in that's all. and it goes to other characters i haven't drawn tbh. not because i don't like them, i simply don't have anything in my brain about them to draw out. i don't think there's any characters in Elden Ring i hate tbh (yes i do like even the Hornsents. i find the stories in the scorpion stew and dried flower talisman really somber and give them a lot of humanity too, fucked up rituals aside).

and thank you for your kind words! my editor has been on my ass for a whole year about my art and it does help me improve a lot, im glad to know it shows in the quality of my fanarts as well!

[arcielee]

Ask Me Anything

Summary: Aemond asks his professor some questions.  Paring: Modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 3162 Warnings: The smutty smut you all wanted, fingering, p in v.  Author’s Note:  Here is part 2, you can read part 1 Hazy Shades of Spring ♥ This was the poll winner and I had to make it into 2 parts. Also, I am also celebrating that I have over 400 followers now! Thank you all so much for reading, it fills me with joy. A shoutout to my muse and editor @f4ll-for-you​ thank you for your unique perspective and helping me become a better writer! ♥ Also, I got this finished on Ewan’s birthday? Coincidence? Yes, absolutely. My planning and scheduling is terrible.  Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @nina2697 @skikikikiikhhjuuh @itsabby15 @greenowlfactif @padfooteyes​ @danika1994 (If there is a strikethrough, it would not allow me to tag you.) 

Mrs. Lannister had been kind enough to share that even though you ended your office hours early on Fridays, you would often remain to finish the lesson plan for the next week. “She’s the only one who does this,” she continued her overshare, batting her lashes. “The rest of the faculty is already gone for the day…even I’m about to leave!”

Aemond returned a warm smile that was close lipped and allowed his cheeks to dimple, noting the faintest hint of rose to her complexion when he thanked her. His gait was languid with his fluid stride to follow the hallway that snaked through the building and back to where he already knew your office would be. 

He saw the glint of your name on the door plaque and it seemed closed; he stopped and rapped his knuckles on the wood, the action pushing it slightly ajar and allowing him to step in. 

“How may I help you?” You had asked without bothering to look up. Your laptop was open and a stack of papers were tidy on the side, but your focus remained on the one in front of you. 

Aemond thought to when his brother first enrolled in your business law course, his arrogance more obnoxious than usual when he came home to say, “My professor is hot and I am definitely fucking my way to an A.” 

Aemond did not even acknowledge the cocksure idiocracy he spewed and remained silent when Aegon would return with weekly updates before he inevitably begged their grandfather for a suitable donation to help him pass your class. He remembered being intrigued by the professor who, despite the board’s pressure, then only gave Aegon a barely passing grade.

Aegon was furious and Aemond only said: “You could always attempt studying,” with his eyebrow cocked.  

His brother moaned. “Wait until you have to deal with her.”

When Aemond entered the classroom, he remembered you were bold with your gaze and without the hint of fear he often met with other professors. Aegon had once described you as a librarian in need of a good railing, but Aemond liked your tasteful, almost bookworm look, how your hair would be twisted back and the glasses you wore during lectures.

He was dutiful with his classes, but with yours he found himself pressing for more; he would push for answers, often getting a rise from his classmates with his constant disputation, but you were unfazed by it, taking the time to pick apart any argument in your eloquent way and even admitting when he was correct with his verdict. Aemond would wait after the room emptied to approach your desk, pleasantries always exchanged and he liked your smile when you once said, “Are you sure you’re only twenty-two?” 

“Age is only a number,” he replied and relished in the blush that dusted your cheeks. 

Aemond could admit to himself he had a slight crush, but he did not understand the extent of it until the semester ended, until that Friday night. 

With Aegon doing a “study-abroad” in Essos, it was put on Aemond to help with the new restaurant. His uncle had been annoying throughout the set-up, using Aemond for menial micromanaging, and he was relieved with the grand opening, just to be rid of the role of Daemon’s tedious shadow. 

Everything is perfect, though, he thought during his rounds, walking the grand staircase towards the bar when he noticed your backside. 

Aemond did not immediately recognize you. For one, your hair was down, your thick main smoothed into a cascade of curls instead of the usual bun or braid your locks would be in. Also, the dress you wore fit to your curves in a way that looked like you had been poured into the garment, not your usual comfort uniform of a top, cardigan, and jeans. 

He was enamored by the curve of your back, how you were curled over the bartop and your attention focused on something, unaware of the few patrons that lingered with the hopes to draw your attention, before grabbing their drinks and moving on. It was the moment you paused to grab your glass of wine that he recognized your profile.

He had to talk to you.

“Professor?” 

Your hesitation was understandable, but eventually you fell into the ebb and flow of the comfortable conversations he would get moments of during your office hours. His heart jumped when you offered the excuse to take you out on the balcony.  He was enamored with the way you held yourself, the smile on your lips and how he never truly noticed the beauty of your eyes or how your lashes framed them. 

Aemond noted the moments you would hem for words, as if it was an internal debate to say one thing before you would give your genuine thoughts and your upfront honesty was something he welcomed. He noticed the flush to your cheeks and nose, perhaps from the bit of cold in the night air mixed with your passion for science fiction, which he had not expected, and that was the moment he stepped in to kiss you. 

You seemed to meld against him with a soft familiarity to his touch. He loved how your expression brightened when he took your hand and how you moved to keep with his strides towards the car he called for. Aemond waited with bated breath when you paused at the car door, watching when you leaned forward and it exaggerated the curves your dress complemented. He would have followed you to the ends of the earth, but you only asked him to come upstairs. 

The next morning, Aemond woke with your curled so perfectly against his chest, his silver hair between your fingertips. He did not move because he did not want to wake you and allow this tranquil moment to end. You were cute when your eyes fluttered open to take in your surroundings and he handed you your glasses. 

You seemed to not want him to leave and he stayed until Sunday. Even then you hesitated to let him go and he made sure to follow up with you, just a simple text that thanked you for the lovely weekend. He followed to ask when you would be available and was surprised when he did not get even an emoji for a response. 

Aemond waited before sending another text, but when he saw he had been left on read, he let it be. Maybe you thought the weekend was a mistake? Perhaps you had not enjoyed yourself like he assumed you had? 

The abrupt end confused him, until he received an alert from Amazon, suggesting a new book release from an author he made sure to follow. 

Your pseudonym, an anagram of your first and last name. 

He read Hazy Shades of Spring in one sitting and knew he had to see you again. 

“Hello, professor,” Aemond stepped into your office. “If you have a moment, I came to seek out your expertise on a matter.”

Your expression was stunned, your lips parted for a moment and your cheeks rosy from his severe gaze, his one sapphire eye glinting in the office light. “Yes, Aemond, hello,” you struggled for the greeting. “Please, sit down. How may I help you?” 

There was the probability of running into him on campus, but you had not expected for him to come directly to your office. Your eyes could not help but drink in his lithe figure, the grace of his movements as he seated himself in the chair across from your desk. His expression would have been stoic except for the slight upwards curl of his lips, amused by your flustered state. 

“I had some questions in regards to one's penumbra rights,” he began, watchful of your reaction with his deliberate words. “I think I could be a victim of unwarranted appropriation and I wonder how that would hold in the court of law?”    

You could feel the blood drain from your face and your tongue pressed against your bottom lip, your teeth biting as you brought it forward to try and relax your jaw. The gesture was subtle with your attempt to calm your nerves, but it was not missed from his intense gaze.

Aemond fucking smirked. 

Your eyes narrowed on him. “You would need undeniable proof of tort liability,” you began, your voice hoarse with your reply and you cleared your throat before continuing. “It would need to be undeniable that your likeness had been used without consent.” 

There was a pregnant pause; you refused to ask what he may or may not have and you watched the dimples line his cheeks with his knowing smile. “I believe I do have proof,” he finally said, reaching into his jean’s pockets and retrieving his phone. “It’s an ebook that was just released.” 

Oh, fuck. 

You force your features to relax and watch his screen light up, filled with text. “His mien is breathtaking, the sharp contours of his features-”

“That description could be used for any protagonist worth noting,” your voice interrupts, almost shrill; you find yourself standing on your side of the desk, your hands pressed on top to anchor you.

“Perhaps,” he replied, his eye flitted to you for a moment. Your breath came out slow through your parted lips, watching as he looked back at the screen and continued to read. “The severity of his gaze was offset by the sapphire stone-”

Your moves are quick and clumsy, coming around the desk and clasping your hands over his; your cheeks are flushed and you are bold with your stare. “Aemond,” you finally find your voice. “Why are you here? What do you want?”

There is a moment that his expression hardens, a flash of an emotion that is wiped away and instead his perpetual smirk returns to play at his lips. He pulled his hands away, pushing to stand while tucking his phone into his pocket.

You fall back as he takes a step towards you, his silver hair spilling forward when he leans forward to hold you attention. “I actually came for clarity,” his eye flits to your lips and he purses his own for a moment. “I had thought we had a lovely weekend together, but every reach out I attempted since had been left on read.” 

“Aemond,” you say his name with your exhale, breaking away and looking at the floor. 

His head tilts with a slight hum as he looks over your stance; your bottom is pressed to the edge of the desk and your arms stiff at your sides, with a hold on the profile that has your knuckles white with your grip, like you could not trust your idle hands.  

“I had thought,” he softened his tone. “I thought I had done something to offend you, or perhaps… you did not enjoy yourself, until…” you looked up and saw the glimmer of hope that danced through the aloof façade of Aemond Targaryen. He didn’t finish the thought and instead said,  “I also came here because I want to take you on a proper date, to go to an agreed location, where I will be punctual and we will have dinner together.” 

You cannot form words; your face is burning and you make a noise of disbelief, a mixture of a gasp with an almost laugh that stops in your throat by the touch of his warm palm to cup your cheek. His hold keeps you from looking away again, his stare intense. “I am telling you what I want, why I came here.” He leaned forward until the tip of his nose touched yours, the breath of his words fans your jawline and you can feel the ripple of goosebumps all over. “But if you are not interested, tell me now and I will stop. I will leave you alone.” 

You did not want him to leave you alone.

In fact, that weekend was on an endless loop in your mind. After he left, you began to write, fervently, and with every keystroke, you poured the intimate, delicious details into a transcript, hoping that when you sent it in, it would empty your mind of him.

It did not and Aemond consumed your thoughts. You remembered the ease of conversation, the comfort of his presence, and how you craved his touch, how alive you felt pinned under his steady gaze. 

Now he was in your office and his steady gaze was burning; you bit your bottom lip, your fervor basked in the flame of his stare, savoring the warmth that he exuded. His scent washed over you, just his proximity made your skin feel aflame. 

The moment ends when Aemond relaxes his stance, falling back a step, and only then did you react. Your hand touches the junction of his shoulder to his throat, your fingers curling around the back of his neck to bring his lips to yours. He welcomes your mouth with a lusty frenzy and you moan when you feel his tongue move to taste your mouth. 

He closes in on you, his thigh pushing your legs apart and his hand on your jaw to tilt your head, moving to ghost his lips on the column of your neck until they reach your ear. “I love that you are a woman of action,” his husky tone and words tickle your skin. “But, remember, I require verbal consent.” 

Your hands move to his jawline, your right hand hovering and careful to not quite touch. “Yes, Aemond, please,” you beg him, your eyes wide. “I wanted to reply but I…” 

He interrupts your words with another kiss and he is hungry to taste you again. Your arm wraps around his neck and the other hand is pressed against his solid chest. His hands move to follow the curves of your hips and wrap around to cup below your ass, bringing you flush against him.

Your hands drop to unbutton your jeans and you feel his warm palms slip into the waistband of both, pulling your underwear as he peels you bare. He presses against you, lifting to set you on the desk edge before kneeling in front of you and unlacing each Converse shoe. Aemond sets them aside and returns to grab the fabric to pull it off; you burn from his stare and he leans to kiss the inside of your knee, his lips trailing your thighs and his hand pulling himself to stand again. 

You watch him bring two slender fingers to his mouth and wet them with his tongue, before they dip between your thighs. A gasp spills from your kiss-swollen lips when he touches you with familiarity, following the crease of your wet folds and the slow curl of his finger inside you. 

He watches your response, the arc of your back with the rub of his fingertips in your velvet walls until you mewl his name. Aemond hums, a smile to his lips, and adds a second finger, continuing the same come hither motion to that same sweet spot. His wrist shifts, allowing his thumb to press against the nub above with ample pressure and you moan loudly to his touch. Aemond continues his ministrations until he feels you clenching; there is a lewd sound of your wet heat and how his fingers continue to fuck you through your climax, until you whimper from the overstimulation. 

You look at him through lidded eyes, still on the curtails of your release; he licks his fingers clean with a grin, his gaze narrowing on you. “Is it better than the book?” 

Your look hardens and you push from the desk, desperate to pull his shirt over his head and the fall of his silver tresses tickle your face; your cardigan falls to the ground, your fitted shirt follows. He is still smug when you place your hands on his chest and push for him to fall back into the chair, your touch falling to unbutton his jeans. 

Aemond lifts his hips to bring it down enough, his hand wrapping around the base of his member. Your mouth waters at the sight and you step to straddle the chair, lowering yourself so he can line with your entrance before you sink further.  

You moan as he fills your velvet walls and he wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face into your neck and allowing you a moment to adjust to his size. With slow breaths, your nails bite into his shoulders and you press onto the balls of your feet to rise and lower onto his length.

There is a soft echo in the office with the lewd noises, the suction of your cunt to take him in and your wanton moans when he begins to thrust upwards, meeting your motion. He presses his lips against your ear with the hot whisper, “Stop clenching or I won’t last.” 

You almost purr from the sensation, turning your head to find his lips. “You’re fine,” your voice is breathless. “I’m on the pill.” 

He stills and you look to see his pupil blown, taking you in; without a word, his hands grip into the soft flesh of your ass and he moves to lift you. You squeak your surprise, your legs quick to wrap his waist as he takes a step towards the desk; the polish wood is cool to the touch when he sets you down, reaching behind you to clear away the clutter and laying you back on the desktop, positioning you until you are nearly folded in half. 

This new angle has you a mewling mess of tears, the flutter of your cunt encourages his fingers to bruise into your hips with a brutal pace until you see stars. 

You can feel the twitch of his cock and a low, guttural groan from the back of his throat with his peak. Aemond leans forward, his forehead damp and pressed to yours, his breath warm with his exhale until it evens again. 

He looks and notices a box of kleenex, reaching for it and is careful to clean the mess. You sit up, still feeling the trough of the waves of your release tingling over, your hand moving to pull the hair tie and your fingers comb out the braid.

Aemond rightens his jeans, but does not button them; instead, he looks at you, another hum as he reaches to cup your face, bringing his lips to your forehead and then tilting your head back to find your lips. You stare at him a moment, warm from his touch and also shy at the realization you are still very much naked. 

“What now?” You ask, pushing to stand.

He pulls you against his bare chest and your heart flutters from his warmth. “Depends,” he murmurs and you pull back to look up at him. “Which restaurant did you want to go to?”

[kabukipookie]

Hey I’d like to request nfsw Yae Miko and M!reader, haven’t seen many fics like this so the premise can be whatever you like :) Ty

Fulfilling a Fantasy∘⁠˚⁠˳⁠°｡⁠☆

★⌒ヽ(´ ❥ SUMMARY`)

Finding yourself at a creative stump, Cheif Editor Yae Miko was happy to help you explore the assigned genre ; Fantasy

ᝰ.ᐟ ⤵ cw + genre

Dom! Yae Miko x amab! reader

use of 'baby' & 'dear' , praise, begging(reader), fem dom (miko), cunnilingus, i did my best- please leave constructive criticism!

ᝰ.ᐟ ↪ wc 1.9 k !

@kabukipookie × TMBLR original work

a/n at the end ♡ (⁠☆⁠▽⁠☆⁠)

INTERACT AT YOUR DISCRETION ❤️‍🔥

Being a freelancer in Inazuma before the Vision Hunting Decree was abolished was a bit harsh. The state of affairs had a severe effect on your creative inspiration.

Despite this, you had to pay bills. You had a due date to get a draft for a new book to the executive editor. Miss Yae Miko.

The prompt was also so very unclear. Just what did she want? She's never been so vague. Maybe the market isn't doing good.

Once establishing yourself as a writer, god did it have its ups and downs. . . But, worries quickly dissipated after being scouted as an exclusive writer; Your works would be carried by Yae Publishing House.

Meeting her for the first time was a scene. How did she know how to get under everybody's skin? She knew exactly what buttons to press.

You received a letter from the Publishing House, and later a meeting was set to discuss terms.

You had to hike up to meet Miko, the shrine maidens were a bit more than confused however; She never had people visit above.

The meeting went about as well as it could, you didn't know it was unusual for her to specifically invite someone up to the shrine.

Work was stable, a dream you never thought would be fulfilled.

Yes, the current affairs were an obstacle, more so was the fact the Chief Editor was being so unresponsive.

There was hardly any tension between you two. Y'know, ignoring how you couldn't hold eye contact for anything longer than a glance. Or how the tips of your ears burned whenever her soft fingers glazed yours when passing manuscripts back and forth. A smooth melody played; soft instrumental. Her lips echoed the tune, humming.

It's like this world was made for her, Miko was too perfect. Her presence was perfect, and the scenery around her... Arguably created purely to extenuate her lovely features.

It did feel a little intense when you walked to the Grand Narukami shrine. The day was breezy, pretty pink cherry petals danced in the sky.

From monthly, to weekly walks to visit your boss, the scenery was always so lovely. You couldn't get too mad at the envoy, you'd be enthusiastic about living at such a beautiful peak of Inazuma.

Knuckles clacked against the pristine door, and you hear shuffling before a familiar voice said "Come in."

Sly as a fox, brimming with mischief it felt like. Recently, she has been unusually preoccupied. Stress, probably.

You didn't however, know the days she was taking off and ignoring your mail, she spent fucking herself on her fingers.

It's never easy to be an executive editor, let alone the responsibility of the grand priestess... Once you spoke to a shrine maiden, they led you to Yae Miko's residence.

You enter the building, tote in hand. you spot Yae Miko with her knees folded on top of a tatami mat.

"Oh, Y/n. What could I assist you with ~ ?" She makes a gesture to come sit across from her.

"Ah, I hope I'm not interrupting anything, Chief Editor." Timidly, you take a seat and open up your bag.

"Of course not darling. It's my responsibility to help the Inazumians of today."

Straightening out the papers, the ones with an outline as well as some ideas you had jotted down.

You stifle a small grunt of amusement.

"Hm? Something funny, dear?" Her head tilts cutely to the side

"Miss editor, I'm a coworker. I do find it a bit funny how seriously you speak to me, but otherwise.." You trail, she looks more relaxed. The atmosphere felt very tranquil.

"--Its just I'm not quite sure what you mean when you told me to write a "Fantasy" Novel. . . I don't mean to be rude, but you know I only have experience with realism."

A nervous look was etched into your features.

You see a smirk at the tips of her pink lips, as she outstretches her arm to begin looking through the papers.

"Oh dear, I guess I should've been more descriptive? I apologize, I've just been so... Busy. Yes that's it "

Her smooth voice infiltrates your ear, diverting your attention to the plain floor. The sound of papers ruffling continues.

"I can try! Do you think you could help me brainstorm? I'm unsure of how to start something like this. I won't take too much of your time, Miss."

She places the papers to the side, fingers finding your shoulder, rubbing gently. Lifting your face to meet her eyes, there's something sultry in her touch.

"Of course, I'm more than happy to."

She leans forward, your cheeks flushed.

Face felt warm and you started to stutter.

"T-Thank You. So, where should we start?"

You contemplate for a minute, restraint quickly leaving just as your resistants did. Her eyes felt like they drilled holes into your being. She's practically stripping you naked in her mind.

"Your fantasies of course. Mind telling me a few? Just to get to know what you have going on inside that head of yours."

You blink. Huh?

"I'm not sure that... Uhh..."

"Y/n, don't be shy." Her hand moves to your neck, rubbing a circle with her thumb before as she continues.

"What comes out of your mouth today is prayers. Okay, Dear? As a maiden, I'll keep your secrets." Her lips find your neck, littering your collarbone with feathery open kisses.

She quickly pulls back and stares at you as if this was a usual meeting between you both.

Hopefully, you plead with the gods to let this become a common occurrence .

"So tell me." The way she said it was so obviously a demand, could you do anything but obey?

"Uh.. I don't have many fantasies. It's quite.. Err.. fulfilling to be a writer. Especially with an editor like yourself." You toss her a nervous smile.

"Quite the sweet talker, now..."

The way she looked at you, like she wanted to just..

Eat

You

Up.

Working with Yae Miko isn't easy, the way she's so cunning makes you feel almost insignificant. . . However, Now? It just made the tightness in your briefs feel so... Uncomfortable!

She finds her way on top of you, hips straddling yours, cunt pushed up against your member.

Your hands find her hips, pulling her closer and practically high off her scent. Peachy, sweet. Every part of her overloaded your senses, every bit of you felt so weak against her.

"This is okay right, Miko?" You look for confirmation before exposing her chest. She smiles, almost too innocent compared to how she was keening to your touch, panties were damp and god, you could feel it.

"Let me tell you something, Dear." Her tongue slid up the shell of your ear.

"My fantasy is you." Her voice was airy, you felt like you were dreaming. "Indulge me m'kay? I wanna hear you beg to touch me, can you do that for me?"

"Yes!- I mean, of course, Miko..."

You pull her in for a kiss, it was so kind. Too sweet for the way you wanted to be ruined by her. Too sweet, in contrast to your mouth being invaded by her sweet scent. The way she craved her pussy to be spread with your tongue, she needed you now.

"F-Fuck… Miko…" You feel her smile against your lips as she sways her hips.

"Please let me undress you." Eyes glimmered, gaze softened, "Who baby?" Yae slyly says.

Confused, you spit out the first word that came to mind.

"Mommy please.." God... Shame ran through your veins, the kind that also runs elsewhere. A chuckle reverberates through your ears.

"Hmph, You're too precious." She lifts herself from your lap, allowing you to slip her perfectly tailored kimono from her figure.

Touches burned, everywhere. It was like a stinging; without your touch. She needed to feel you, have you bow down to her. Begging her to let her walls squeeze you.

Her supple skin was in view, your lips latching around a nipple quickly.

Her hand grips your locks, tugging slightly while a 'tsk' comes out, alongside a small moan. You look up to her while you continue to suck on her tits like a baby.

"I want you between my thighs, okay Baby?"

"There you go.." Yae Miko coos, petting your head as you are between her knees. Her kimono was undone at the front, and hair cascaded over her shoulders. Your hand finds her inner thigh, face to face with her clothed cunt.

Sliding your finger to the band of her panties, you remove the garment. Her pussy was so pretty, walls fluttering around nothing while it gushed out sweet nectar you wish you could drown in. You flick your tongue out, licking her thigh before gently biting it. Your hands had a firm grip on her thigh and waist respectively. Soothing circles were being drawn on her tummy, thighs were being gently sucked on 'till they were bruised and pink.

"Ah! So good, Baby, mhm.." Yae Miko lets out a low groan, hand holding a fist full of your hair as a dark hickey begins to form on her pale smooth thigh.

"C'mon baby, taste me." It was a command, one that made you drool.

Taking a breath, you mumble.

"You taste so good…"

It comes out messy, like the way your tongue is preoccupied with stirring up her tight cunt. You felt slender fingers grasp at your scalp again, just harder. Demanding. You take that as a sign to push your whole muscle into her hole.

"Haahh~! Fuck. Yes-Yes..!"

"F-fuck… You're doing so well baby…You're so desperate. So n-needy."

Finding her clit with your fingers, you gently rub her clit while your tongue dips into her heat.

Licking up her slit, you spread her pretty lips and look into her eyes before diving back in like a starved dog.

"F-fuck-! Haah, that feels so good~!" she moans out, breath light and thighs twitching.

"I-I'm gonna cum... More..." She keens, laying her back on the floor as you go down on her, slurping up every drop of her slick. Increasing the pace on her clit, her back arches into your touch. Her ears are twitching, you feel a fluffy tail thump under your lover's thighs. Such a display, one to savor. If only you could engrave this in your memor-

Light thumps echo from the entrance.

Clack clack clack

You pull away from her core, looking at her face. You're messy with wetness, a tent obvious in your pants.

Visibly annoyed having an orgasm interrupted, she straightens her garments and mumbles "One minute..."

Glancing at you, she leans in for a last, wet sloppy kiss. Miko practically eats you whole, she tastes herself on your tongue. It was so... sloppy.

She grabs you, hand on your cheek after quickly tying her kimono.

"You did so good for me. Did I give you a bit of inspiration?" Her eyes bore into yours, other hand grasping your arm.

"Uhh- Y-Yes. Very much so" You adjust your arms, instinctively hiding your very warm face.

"Well then, I'll let you get started with a draft. Okay? I apparently have matters to attend to..." A wink graces her face, you watch as she slips out the door.

Sitting there, you guess it's only natural for an editor to help her precious writer in need!

hi!! this is my first real fic i guess.. feel free to flood my requests! im a slow writer and im unsure on how to end smut.

either way, thank you for reading. if there are any typos plz lemme know.

much love! - vibi

[batshaped]

twitter stop fucking up for one second challenge (impossible)

well,

here’s the thing. it feels like social media is changing lately. every social media site seems to be fucking up or getting worse in its own special little way. i recently read and thought a lot about this article which coins the term “enshittification” and describes the process by which every social media platform eventually becomes so greedy as to become unusable. it makes me wonder if the social internet is due for a big shift in the near future. 

for a long time, twitter was the best place for me. for all its issues, it had the audience that i could reach the easiest, that was the most invested in my art. i got (still get) a lot of awesome replies and really great analysis of my work on twitter, which i didn’t receive on any other platform. i was able to encourage those readers by retweeting their comments and theories to show that i liked hearing their thoughts. i could use the Moments feature to organize my art and make my comic easily readable in order. and anyone could look at my twitter, account or no.

ever since the site was bought out, twitter is getting worse. i can’t use the app on mobile anymore because every reply section is drowned out by blue checks and choked with ads. the Moments feature was disabled and people couldn’t easily read my comics in order anymore. and this is without even touching on the bigger/more serious issues the buyout has brought to the app. these are just the ways it has made my personal experience of being an artist on there worse. and now, apparently, you can’t even look at my work unless you have an account.

it’s been pretty common in the past year for the new management to implement a bad feature and then undo it after backlash, and maybe this too will be reversed. but even if it is unimplemented, the platform will continue to get worse. all platforms are getting worse right now. all of them are becoming untenable to use without 7 bespoke browser extensions to block ads, hide specific unwanted content, force chronological order, and so on. on mobile i don’t even bother. apps are unusable. 

on top of that, i have the personal issue of not being the type of creator who is particularly good at staying on top of more than one or two platforms daily. twitter has been my main for years now, so i’m pretty good about updating it very regularly. instagram is trailing behind, i usually remember to post there daily (especially as i’m remaking mine right now and posting my entire backlog) but sometimes i forget. and that’s kind of my limit. every other site falls by the wayside because i just don’t want to spend my whole day or life updating platforms. i know there are tools that can do it automatically for you but i don’t want to do it that way and then i’d have to figure out a new tool and get yet another account on yet another app and install yet another extension to use it.

i just want to draw. i don’t know how we arrived at this place where we need to be 700 other things when we are just artists. i draw and write, isn’t that enough? if i wanted a presence on tiktok i’d also have to be a video editor who pays close attention to trends and makes sure to transform my artwork into something people on that app are interested in. even if i just wanted to have a strong presence on say, twitter/instagram/tumblr/tapas/webtoon i’d have to take on another (unpaid) job as my own social media manager, meticulously managing my uploads across 5+ apps and making sure everything is up to date and tailored to what “works” on each particular platform. i already have a day job—i’m a storyboard artist. the art i post online is supposed to be made and given freely for my own enrichment first and foremost, and for the joy of sharing with others as a close second.

i wonder if we’re due for a mass rejection of this increasingly draining cable-wars-style model of spreading ourselves thin across multiple platforms just to reach the exclusive audience each one provides. i’m starting to feel done with that concept, but i still want to share my art. i want to hear my readers’ thoughts. i want to create things that connect with others. i want to do it without these ever-mounting obstacles.

what i’m doing about it is creating my own website at my own domain that belongs to me. i doubt i’ll be quitting social media when it’s done. social media is still where the audience i cherish lives. but you can bet that when that website is ready to be shared, i’ll be talking about it on every social media account i own. i’ll be telling everyone there’s a place to look at my art where you don’t need an account, you don’t have to struggle through a morass of ads, and you don’t have to line the pockets of a billionaire who bought a social media app on a whim. it’ll just be you and my art. alone together.

by the way, to @whatthehelljake​ i apologize for writing a fucking SAT essay on a screenshot of your reply. any exasperated tone here is not directed at you at all. it’s directed at this sea of obstacles that disrupt the simple concept of “i made art and i want to share it with you.” your reply is how i found out today that twitter made this change. i cherish the fact that you want to connect with my art so much that you alerted me to this. i wish that wasn’t necessary. i want to make my work on my own terms—and want you to be able to experience it on YOUR own terms.

all that to say, i think the website is going to be the main answer to this issue. i don’t see myself having the energy to update tumblr that much more often than i already do, though maybe i’ll try to pick up the pace a little now. we’ll see. holy shit if you read all this go drink a glass of water or something get up and stretch. ok thank you bye <3

[ladylaviniya]

Spirit of Christmas Past

Masterlist || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

Chapter Summary: You are greeted by the Spirit of Christmas and he decides to confront your past and punish your stubborn behaviour.

Pairing: Chris Evans x f!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Dead Parents Description, Verbal Abuse, P in V sex, Rough Sex, Choking, Fingering, Humiliation, Heart Break, Ghosts, Swearing, Alcoholic Use, Classism.

Word Count: 9k

A/N: Please to all readers, understand I don't have a beta editor and I can miss some mistakes because most my typing is on the bus to work when I get the time to write. ALSO this is my attempt at the naughty or nice challenge using: 18. “If you didn’t want this, you’d behave.” @the-slumberparty an event challenge created by @navybrat817 & @darkficsyouneveraskedfor

12:59am 25th December 2023, New York City.

Among the nothingness of sleep, you could hear in the distance the sound of little bells jingling. You groaned, cracking your eyes open slowly. The sound was becoming more persistent and volumed.

It was freezing! The management still hadn’t fixed the heating system. You shivered and dug deeper into the duvet layers of your bed. You reached for your phone to check the time.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” you grumbled before rolling over onto your back. All memory of Marlene’s visit had disappeared from your mind.

You stared up at the plain ceiling. Your eyes grew hazy while your mind dissociated into thought. A single tear rolled from your eye.

God, you hated Christmas so much. You tried ignoring all the years. You tried pushing back the pain. You tried thinking about your jobs and tasks still incomplete. You tried not to think about how lonely you were, how unfulfilled you felt deep down. A mean tug at your chest made you hiss.

The ceilings image morphed into spots and shapes of different kinds...and when you chose to focus your eyes you could see the flecks of shadow clashing with light, wrapping and drawing out the shape of a person walking towards you.

You leant back and felt the mattress still under you. What you were seeing had to be part of some strange dream. You concluded you’d fallen back to sleep.

Gravity didn’t apply in this scenery.

The ceiling opened up, glowing in a soft calming light. The figure kept walking it’s way towards you. The closer he got the more you could acknowledge his face and good looks. He was lean and clean shaven, a depiction of youth. His hair was the colour of dark roasted chestnuts. He wore a white sweater.

‘Woah, what a weird dream...but look at how handsome he is.’

As if he heard your thoughts loud and clear he smiled with sparkling white teeth. Still unsure of reality, you lifted your hand up high to the ceiling. He did the same. He reached out with his palm out.

Your finger tips touched and you gasped at how warm and inviting he felt. Your mind ran filthy. You bit your bottom lip before lurching off the bed to the ceilings opening window into the handsome man’s arms. You swore you knew him. Something about that smile. You couldn’t place it though. Butterflies filled your insides.

His eyes were a blue that matched mountains. His cheeks sharp and strong but that smile was ageless.

You shyly bit the tip of your finger and giggled, “Kiss me.”

He cupped your face and accepted your advance without hesitation. His lips leant forward and met your starved mouth.

He was slow, sweet like vanilla. He pulled away and nibbled at your lips, sucking and licking with you. He was perfect. You were the first to pull away, panting and mewling. Your body rubbed up against his again. One of his arms cupped your back while his other hand cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your bottom lip.

You felt his muscles, his hot body. His arms tightly held you, protecting you from the world and claiming you as his.

In your head this all made sense. Deep down you had met before, but where...God where had you met him? It ached not knowing fully.

Pulling away you moaned, “Fuck me. Please.”

You took his ginormous hands and pressed them against your breasts. Only a thin piece of satin separated your skin to his skin. You knew he’d be able to feel your nipples pebbling under his palms.

You kissed and nibbled along his jaw, panting, “I’m not wearing anything underneath.” And that was true. You underwear had gone missing after you had played with your toy while imagining a rape play scene. You looked up at him with doe eyes fluttering. Your fingers pinched the hem of your night gown. He smirked, his fingers danced up your thighs, and by your surprise....he forced your hem down.

His eyes burned bright blue, almost glowing as the world around you both faded black. His head shook lightly at you, his wet lips parted, and he whispered into the open air, “Be not afraid Y/N as I shine the light on your past.”

Your head jerked back, your eyes squinted, ‘What the fuck?’

The question filled your mind and escaped through your lips, “Who are you?”

The handsome stranger rubbed his thumbs into your palms and said with heralding tones, “I am he who sees past, present and future tidings upon the grandeur of Christmas day. I am The Spirit of Christmas. But you…may call me Chris.”

“Chris?” You blinked and rebuffed in an fit of laughter. You shook your head, disbelieving and feeling that heat of anger rise.

“The Spirit of Christmas,” you cackled, “I really did have too much to drink to be having weird dreams like this. You kiss me and tell me that you’re some mystic being?”

His lips flicked up, bemused, “You asked for that kiss, I merely obliged such a sweet request.”

Humiliation bloomed in the pit of your belly. You felt hot in the face and grit your teeth.

His thumbs ran over the pulse of your wrists, his eyes were crowned in a false innocence.

Your eyes glowered in seconds, “Go fuck yourself, Chris,” you fumed.

You shoved his hands away and turned around trying to imagine something else, hoping the dream would change or you would wake up. You stumped short and jumped back as your path was blocked by a horrific sight. A naked woman in the darkness, chained and kneeling at your feet. Marlene.

The memories flood back into your mind. Her ethereal form floating your bed with her frozen heart and warning words. Except she was no ghost in this form. She was hauntingly thin like a skeleton, the loos skin of her belly and breasts hung down, her skin was discoloured and sickly, her cheeks hallowed and her hair thin, balding. Her teeth were black, gums rotten, her chest made this awful whistling noise as she struggled to breath. Her finger nails were red and cracked. She was chained to the floor. She looked up at you with sad bloodshot eyes, shaking her head at you.

“Go with him Y/N, he is your last chance…” she shivered as if a cold wind had prickled her flesh. Her head hung low.

His heavy hand laid down bearing weight onto your shoulder. You gasped and looked back at him with fear. His face appeared mournful as he acknowledged Marlenes decrypted state. Those blue eyes you were enchanted by moments ago sent an icy chill down your spine as his attention turned to you.

“Come,” he softly beckoned, “Let this soul pay it’s penance…”

You licked your dry lips and tried to keep your cool without revealing your fear. You nodded, not chancing your voice breaking in an exchange. His palm held back out to you. You glared at him. With defeat and the tiniest tremble in your fingers, you finally tucked your hand into his, feeling his warm fingers wrap around you, you had to admit, it felt nice. He squeezed it softly and walked, guiding you away from the living corpse of Marlene’s soul.

After some time of walking away until Marlenes image disappeared.

The shadows felt literally heavy, weigh you down in what felt like a fight against gravity. You recalled a time you trudged through the snow up to your waist. It felt like this, yet there was only silence.

His hand was still wrapped around yours, tugging you forward mercilessly.

You felt like you could have tripped in the black abyss.

“Sp-spirit?” you finally dared to ask, “Spirit…where are you taking me?”

And then he stopped. You could hear his sigh and felt the air around you grow colder. This sexy dream had quickly turned into a foreboding nightmare. A flame of light flickered in the palm of his other hand, it was like supernatural magic.

He pulled you in closer and his other hand came around and slapped your backside.

You shrieked and tried shoving him back, “Ow! What the hell! That hurt!”

He chortled, “Yes, the past can hurt, especially yours,” his finger scratched under your chin, “But it can also heal if you learn from it.”

The floor beneath your feet disappeared and you both plummeted into the darkness again. You screamed as your belly lifted up into your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut and felt the spirit hug you tighter, your fingers desperately squeezed the wool of his sweater.

And then the falling stopped, and your screaming died down into violent pants. He still held you and then placed you softly down onto the ground below your feet.

His smile was gentle, “Here we are.”

05:00pm Christmas Eve, 1999, Texas, Austin.

Finally, you dared to open your eyes. Your hands were still clawed into his thick sweater when you looked around at your surroundings. It was a living room inside a trailer home. Red tinsel had been taped to walls. A small Christmas tree stood in the corner between the space of a couch and a basinet. Poorly drawn pictures of baubles, stars, Santa and elves had been scattered over the floor.

‘Ugh.’ Christmas decorations…but no, hold on…you knew this place.

And a soft hum of Jingle Bells filled your ears. You gasped. You knew who it belonged to in an instant. You let go of the Spirit and looked behind you.

A woman in the kitchen was opening a packet of biscuits, placing each one on a plastic plate. She was younger than you while sharing a likeness in appearance. The home smelt like gingerbread while she began to pour a cup of milk. She placed the cup on the small coffee table, sighing as she ran her palm over the swell of her protruding belly under her dress.

“M-mom?” you said shakily, “Mom is that…oh god mom! I missed you so much.”

You raced forward with your arms spread wide, seeking to hug her. As you closed your arms around her, you stumbled and fell hard to the floor onto your knees.

“Fuck!” you hissed and heard the mocking snicker come from the Spirit.

You twisted your body and sat back on your hands. You looked up and back at your mother, confused and dazed. Her feet were not on top of you, standing on you, but rather, she was standing inside and walking through you. You jumped in fright and crawled backwards, watching how she walked through you transparently.

“M-mom?” you whimpered, scared and confused. When she didn’t answer your voice filled with panic, “Mom!”

The Spirit, holding his hands behind his back chuckled, looking between you both.

You shouted, “What the hell is wrong with her!?”

His laughter pulled back and he hummed with a smile, “There’s nothing wrong, she can’t see you or hear you. These are but shadows of things that have been. They have no consciousness of us.”

She totally ignored you as she lowered herself onto the couch.

The Spirit held his hand out to you to help you up from the floor. You slapped it away and used the wall for stability. He didn’t appear offended or surprised by your viperous habits. You shoved past him and fell to your knees in front of her.

“Mom?” you said a little more gently.

You reached out to touch her shoulder. Your fingers went straight through her. Your eyes watered. She looked up from her belly and her lips spread into her perfect smile. Her eyes glittered, “Honey, can you please grab the cookies for Santa?”

Your face lit up and you nodded desperately, scooting back off your knees to fetch the cookies from the small kitchenette, but before you could step forward, you heard the tiny squeak of a child, “Okay, mommy!”

And from the corner of your eye you saw her... next to the tree was a little girl in a plaid dress and pig tails with plaid scrunchies, laying on her belly, kicking her feet back in forth with a crayon in her little chubby hand scribbling a poor drawing of a reindeer. It looked more like a cow with antlers.

“Is that…”

The little girl crawled to her feet and skipped to the kitchen, she looked so small compared to the plate she carried back to the living room and placed it onto the coffee table proudly put the beside the milk.

You stood up and took a small step back. You bumped into the Spirits chest, “Is that me?”

He laid his hand on your lower back. He watched you watching your much younger self.

He hummed, “Yes, you were seven years old here I believe.”

‘Yes, just before Caroline was born.”

Your mom leant forward and grabbed the little girl by the waist, tugging her back and peppered kisses all over her small giggling face while her fingers tickled her sides until she begged her to stop.

“Love you my little troublemaker,” she whispered against the tiny cheek.

“I love you too mommy,” you and your younger self said in sync. This, the Spirit noted with a calm expression. He walked around the room. The smaller girl version of yourself ran through him as he perched himself on the arm of couch and cocked his head at the drawings scattered along the floor.

“You had talent, you know?” he mused.

A slam of the front door made you jump. Your father with a big welcoming grin came home shortly after. The little girl cheered excitedly, running off to show him the drawing she drew for him. He picked her up and threw her in the air before catching her again despite the disapproving look your mother gave him.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look!” the little girl said giving him the picture, “Merry Christmas!”

He laughed with pure mirth and delight, his eyes squinted at the image, and he nodded.

You smirked; he had no fucking clue what the kid version of you had drawn.

“It’s beautiful babygirl, it’s ah…ah…”

He glanced over at your mother who mouthed the word back, “Reindeer.”

His eyes widened and his voice lilted, “A reindeer! Just for me!? Thankyou sweetheart,” he kissed her cheek, “I can’t wait to show all my friends this at work.”

He placed her safely down on the floor and walked over to your mother before sitting on the couch beside her. He put the picture on the coffee table and leant in to kiss his wife. Child you turned away and stuck out her tongue, in total disgust because ‘boys kissing girls was gross!’

“And how’s mommy been?” your father purred, laying a hand on her belly, his thumb lazily rubbed back and forth.

“Tired,” she groaned, “Little peanut is coming any day now. I can feel her kicking my rib cage, I think she’s planning her escape and wants to rocket out,” she breathed hard, her hand softly laced into her, holding it over the spot where your baby sister was kicking her feet.

You chewed your bottom lip and glanced at the Christmas Spirit who was grinning at the little girl in her pig tails and plaid.

You felt strange. And the strangeness was uncomfortable. Nausea filled your tummy.

“If this is a memory of just the past, “ you started wobbly, “Does that mean...everything is the same as it once was?”

“Yes, that’s right,” acknowledged the Spirit.

You smirked, “Good.” You twisted around on your heel and marched down the hallway that connected to your tiny bedroom.

A small surprised noise escaped you at seeing how pink and purple everything was coloured. On the walls was a my little pony poster. On your floral bed covers was your favourite Bratz doll. You sat down on the tiny bed and sighed before burying your face into your hands.

You tried sneezing. You tried slapping your face. You even got up and started doing jumping jacks. You would do anything to try and wake yourself up! A tiny knock broke your concentration, and you gasped coming face to face with the Spirit of Christmas. He was leaning against the doorway, holding back his laughter.

You sneered at him and sat back on the bed, panting softly. You tried remembering his name; calling him Spirit felt tedious.

“Chris was it?” you spat mockingly, “Is that because your name's Christmas?”

He dug his hands into his pockets, his smile unfaltered, “Nah, I just liked the name, it fits. My real name you wouldn’t be able to say because it hasn’t been said by the tongue of man.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Yea okay whatever,” you dismissed sourly, “So, what the fuck is this? Huh? Is this some kind of sick game, are you trying to hurt me?”

Your throat grew tight. You couldn’t believe what was happening and why of all people this was happening to you. What did he even want? Was this just some insane plot to blackmail you?

“Well, guess what,” your chin jerked out at him, “I’m not scared, I’m not hurt. In fact I’m thrilled!” you showed off your laughter, forced from your lungs.

His smile softened, “Ah, but why is your lips trembling? And...what’s that I see?”

He took a large step forward and stood above you. You laid back, flinching at his hand reaching down to you face. Your heart thudded loudly.

His finger was hot on your cheek, it rolled up and brushed your skin. He pulled back the finger, rolling it into his knuckle and moved it between your eyes to show you something

On his finger was a drop of moisture.

“A tear?” he whispered, “What ever for?”

Your face felt hot and you blinked away the others that escaped your lashes, you sucked in a deep breath and rubbed your nose.

You let out a fake nervous laugh, “Please, you think I’m crying? Have you not seen how dusty this house his? I’m just having allergies.”

Little did you know, the Spirit could see beyond your lies.

He sat down beside you on your bed and placed his large hand on your knees.

You felt vulnerable. You didn’t want him here, you didn’t want to be here. And what was worse was his silence. He did not speak for a long while. The only noises were the sounds of the little girl and her parents in the living room.

You sighed and looked at the floor. You missed this point in your life. Things were simpler. You were so oblivious to the world and it’s harms.

“Your father sounds incredibly proud,” The Spirit said, his thumb ran over your skin.

Your eyes fluttered and you nodded.

“Did you know he told you the truth? About your picture?”

You eyed him cautiously.

He snapped his fingers and your bedroom faded into an office space. You were sitting on a dark oak desk. Seeing the boxy computer with twistable speakers struck you with nostalgia.

11:00am 26th December, 1999, Texas, Austin.

Your dad came through the office door, holding a piece of paper. Your picture.

He pinned it to a cork board and one of his colleagues that followed him in jokingly asked, “What’s with the Picasso cow?”

Your dad huffed back, “Hey man, it’s a reindeer and for your information, my daughter made it for me. And I’m lucky to have it. What did your kids get you?”

The coworker snorted and muttered under his breath, “A phone call asking about Child support, always check if the condom is ripped my friend.”

The two men left, bantering between each other.

You looked at the photo of your dad, your mom, seven year old you and a baby Caroline. It was a Polaroid taken in the hospital. Your mom had little Caroline just before the new year. You all looked so happy. You loved being a big sister, you couldn’t stop leaving baby Caroline alone, eager for her to grow up and become your best friend. Were there times she annoyed you? Yes, she was your sister after all. But Caroline had a heart of gold.

The Spirit touched the photo and asked with mirth, “Such a beautiful family...whatever happened?”

You didn’t answer. You slid off the desk and marched out of the office door only to somehow walk right back inside...you gasped and turned back around but when you opened the door to leave it was like staring into a mirroring space.

You poked your head out of the office only for it to be poking back inside through the same door.

It was the strangest paradox that you had come to find.

The Spirit sucked his teeth and shook his head, “Yea, funny that...so here’s the deal...you are going to follow my rules.”

‘Asshole doesn’t know what a deal is.’

He stood away from the cork board and sat down in your father’s rolling desk chair, stacking his feet up onto the wood loudly.

Your hands protectively wrapped around yourself. His pupils seemed to expand and shrink quickly like a cat. Your skin crawled.

“What rules?” You scoffed, “Are these a part of your test?”

He nodded once, “Yes. See for this whole thing to work, you have to comply and participate...meaning,” he shoved away from the desk and launched from the chair to walk fast towards you, causing you to walk backwards and hit the wall behind you, his hand grabbed and squeezed your jaw, from his teeth he seethed, “When I ask a question.. you answer it. Or I could just leave you here...forever.”

Your eyes watered, your chest heaved sporadically, “L-leave me here?”

His eyes fluttered, “Oh I’m sorry, you didn’t think this would have consequences?” His nose pressed to yours as he remarked, “Your little friend Marlene is stuck haunting your apartment for that reason. She’s stuck in a loop in which she can never escape. She gets to watch you everyday moving into her apartment and moving all her possessions around. I could leave you here and do the same. I could let you re-watch your father hang up your picture for eternity.”

His bright blue eyes darkened almost totally black. At that point you couldn’t tell if he was a good spirit or an unholy one.

You swallowed hard with a whimper and squeezed shut your eyes. His hot breath tickled your ear.

“I can be merciful...so...” his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip, peeking out from your eyes you thought he might kiss you, “Let’s try again...”

When he released you and turned back to the cork board he clicked his fingers. You collapsed from the wall to your knees, too weak and shaky to hold you up after his dominant spell. Piles of work paper flew around the room, around his head, his eyes raced over the pages, the words turned glowing gold as he read over them with his supernatural powers.

“Your family looked stable enough for their poor income. You lived a decent childhood...” He looked over his shoulder, his eyes hard and demanding, “What happened that changed it all?”

You bowed your head cowering as you whispered, “You already know.”

The papers that swirled in a storm around him floated softly down to the floor in front of you. The ink of the printed words began morphing into swirling shapes and colours.

The Spirit said, “I’d like it if you told me. That’s how this works. We analyse what really happened compared to what you think happened.”

Your eyes stared at the colours in the ink rise, painting the image of a snow covered alley way from nightmares years ago. You gasped. Your mother, you and your sister were all walking down from the entrance. You clenched the front of your nightgown and desperately blabbered into begging. Tears ran down your face. It didn’t take much effort knowing what was to come.

“Please don’t make me watch it.”

You tried to move the papers away but the pages fought back in nasty stinging paper cuts.

Your covered your face and eyes before hearing the mystic being bellow, “Put your hands down!”

Half screaming you sobbed, “No, please! I can’t do it! Please!”

You stood up on your feet and threw yourself into him. He did not hold you and let you fall at his feet. He did crouch down and rub both his thumbs over your snot covered lip.

“Please,” you choked, his finger pressed to you mouth. He shook his head and softly hushed you. He cupped the back of your neck and moved his mouth to ghost along your lips.

You hiccuped and opened your mouth, waiting for him to just conquer a kiss. He almost did with how his tongue tickled your lips and teeth when he icily repeated, “Dont forget I can leave your here. And you can watch it over and over and over. Be a good girl. Tell me what happened.”

He sat on the floor and tugged you into his arms and lap. You buried your face into his neck and hiccupped again.

“C-caroline was nine and I was sev-seventeen...Mom took us Christmas shopping. We were gonna buy something for Dad. A watch. A really fucking nice watch because dad had a big promotion in New York coming up...on our way back home, a drunken asshole with a broken bottle threatened to kill us if we didn’t give him our bags. We complied and mom made sure to step in front of us. He got angry because it wasn’t a Rolex...he then...”

You broke down again and clenched Chris’ white sweater tightly. His fingers raced up and down your spine slowly and tempered, hushing you until you managed to start talking again.

“What did this man do?”

The pages turned dark burgundy red.

Your but your bottom lip and sniffled, “He punched the broken bottle into Moms’ belly. It was so sharp it cut through her jacket, her skin and fat all the way into her liver. There was nothing Caroline and I could do. We tried to stop the bleeding with our coats. But When paramedics arrived ....she had bled to death. I watched her choke on it.”

You wiped your tears and snot across his shoulder, the soft wool soaked it up. His strong hands pulled you closer into him. You straddled his hips, curling your legs around his back. Your night gown hem rose up around your nude hips. His body was so warm. He was like a blanket around you.

“She died, protecting us,” you gulped, “She died over a fucking watch because some greedy homeless drunk wanted money for some booze.”

The Spirit clucked his tongue, “Your mother passed and your father?”

Your tears had calmed down significantly, you covered yourself to sit on his thigh instead of balancing on just his lap. You twisted your body and stared at the moving pictures on the papers.

Your dad came to image. The black beneath his eyes and the sunken cheeks were not the man you wished to remember. He lit a cigarette and pressed a bottle to his lips.

“Dad got his promotion and we moved to Manhattan but...Mom’s death really took a toll on him.”

You were making paper angels on the floor with your sister. You hung them up together in her room. There was no Christmas tree. It was the Christmas after your mom’s death and before you left for college. It was the last Christmas you shared with Caroline.

The sweet ten year old was wise and emotionally matured than others her age. It was how she processed your moms death. Caroline at only ten was able to keep you and your father from experiencing more heart ache and grief.

You watched the two girls climbed under a blanket and play with a flashlight. You pushed over her wrist a rubber band loomed bracelet with her favourite colours. She gave you three fruity scented rubbers and a pencil she had been rewarded by her teacher at school.

“I used that pencil until the tip was impossible to hold,” you whispered and felt Chris’ warm wet lips press against your temple, he rocked you like you were the most fragile thing in the room. Maybe you were.

“She still keeps your rubber band bracelet in her bedside table...she wore it to the birth of your nephew,” The spirit stated.

You choked and cupped your hand over your mouth. You hadn’t cried so hard and so much in years not since-

“And then you left for College.”

You sucked in a deep and painful breath. You nodded and clenched your hand into a fist.

“College wasn’t so bad. I had my fun like everyone else,” you lied.

“Did you?” Chris smirked, “Let’s have a look at that then? Shall we?”

8:00pm 23rd December, 2012, New York University.

Your father’s desk morphed into a pool table.

It was the party of the season. Sororities and fraternities came together. You weren’t a member of a sorority. You chose to believe stand offishly that sororities were of a hive cult mind. It wasn’t worth networking in such a unnecessary club and housing.

You didn’t have friends in college either. You didn’t make yourself approachable. Always sitting at the front of the class room and never smiling. You were the dedicated pupil and that made you into the coldest fish of the school.

Your professors approval and marks is all you cared about. The more successful, the more opportunities and the more chances of gaining success enough to maybe look after your little sister. That originally was the goal.

You watched with Chris as a gaggle of Kappa delta girls giggled passed by a young girl no older than nineteen holding a red cup close to her chest. She looked disdainful and tired. She was wearing a basic white thankyou with a cotton scarf and jeggings. Thick black glasses at on the edge of your nose. You laughed awkwardly looking at the past youth. Your recalled your hipster phase in college but didn’t remember you looking this horrendous and mismatched. Your hair...you shuddered. You never did that style again.

“Fun party!” Chris called over your shoulder. He wore a red Christmas hat and in the crook of his lip was a party blower. The lights and music were obnoxiously jolly and hip hop rap remixes found on YouTube. You know YouTube? When it’s common the iPhone one was still a little television and not the red play button we know today. So many people were growing nuts over these two Neanderthals on a channel called “Smosh” at the time, maybe they were trying to mimic that movie of dipshits called Jack Ass.

Yes...party...you had been invited and you almost said no...but your mother’s death anniversary was coming up and you felt it appropriate to seek the comfort of other people and illicit items to take the pain away for a night. The young woman continued to help herself to the eggnog, standing right beside the table, spooning the goop into her red cup

You tried forgetting about the drunk monster that stabbed your mother all those years ago.

“A naughty freshman?” Chris chuckled, breaking you away from your thoughts.

He floated to the eggnog bowl and grinned,.“Barely a woman and breaking the rules, I wouldn’t have pegged you as a rebel.”

You rolled your eyes, “Hardly,” before walking over to sit on the edge of the pool table. Some guys were playing with their cues and balls. They walked through you as they passed by. One of them you remembered very well and tried your best to not acknowledge.

“It’s how you met him though...isn’t it?” said Chris, looking between the young woman and a young man playing at the table.

The man was handsome. Tall and dark. His eyes a burnt burgundy that sent the younger you thrills down your spine.

The young woman leaning in her corner and sipping her sorrows away was eyeing the game keenly. It looked...fun.

The very ass she looked upon was found and shaped with strong thighs and calf’s under those denim jeans. The ass belonged to a man. And that man turned around once he caught her staring in the corner of his eye.

He smirked and finished the game before swaggering over your way. Even now you still admired how good looking he was.

Chris was looking him up and down, smiling and cockily mimicking the walk but this time back to you so you could both watch the events of your forlorn past.

“Hey, aren’t you in my maths class?” The man asked leaning over her with just his right arm.

She ignored him initially, shrugging as a reply.

He chuckled, “You’re that weird chick that sits at the front right?”

Her eyes flickered back and her lip curdled, “And you’re that obtuse moron that doesn’t know the difference between algebra and calculus equations?”

Chris chuckled, “There you are. I was wondering when you’d come out to play.”

You felt a twinge ashamed. Is that how others saw you all the time? An uptight, haughty bitch? You remained quiet.

“Well...I find I act my dumbest when I’m around beautiful ladies,” said the confident man, “I get all nervous and stuff.”

“Nervous and stuff?” She repeated slowly, flicking her tongue deliberately against her teeth to sound out each precious syllable.

God, it made you cringe to watch yourself.

He leant in closer and pressed his nose to hers, his eyes glanced up and he said heatedly, “You’re standing beneath a mistletoe.”

Before he could officially kiss her, Chris clapped his hands and world the room around. He grabbed your wrist and made sure to stand you on his shoes as the people and party disappeared into books on shelves.

4:00pm 23rd December, 2013, New York University.

The pool table melted down into the shape of a smaller desk and chair. That same girl was sitting at it with her head in a book and her pen against the page. The sky outside was dark. It was snowing lightly beyond the windows.

That man from the party now wore a dark blue jumper and sweatpants, he wandered up beside her, sipping a starbucks milkshake.

She moved the thick black rim glasses from her face. Her fingertips rubbed circles into her eyes before returning back to the important reading material. Dark shadows bagged beneath her eyes.

“You were a dedicated student,” said Chris, his hands lingered up your spine and wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. You nodded. You were.

The loud sucking of the man’s Starbucks cup made her slap the book close.

With her tight voice she snootily scolded him, “You know you’re not allowed food and drink in the library.”

He smirked, “Whatcha gonna do miss goodie goodie? Gonna tell on me? Gonna take my drink away?” he shook it, the ice cubes rattled I side.

He chuckled and chewed the straw. His eyes glanced at you up and down.

“Youre kinda hot...in a weird nerdy way you know?” he chuckled.

Both younger you and the you if now rolled your eyes and scoffed. But you knew the younger version was naive and how so many of those one liner comments got you into the most destructive relationship of your life.

The young man stole her book from the desk and ran off with it. Her shriek became laughter as she quickly collected her bag and pencils to chase after him.

The Spirit held you when he stood behind you His hands cradled your arms and hip, rocking you slowly, side to side. He watched the interaction of two young people deep into their puppy love with a great fascination over his face.

“Who was the handsome beau?”

“Anthony Mackie...the schools best hockey player and class clown idiot,” you muttered.

Chris hummed with pleased curiosity, “Is that all?”

You grabbed at his wrists and squeezed them tightly. You pressed your head back into his chest and sighed.

“He was my boyfriend,” you said quietly to Chris.

The library seemed to fast forward. Outside the seasons changed from winter, spring, summer fall and back to winter again. She was sitting back in the same desk again. Her eyes were still tired and now she wore a little more makeup to conceal it. Her eyes were glued to the pages, racing to read and write notes. Her ipod shuffle earphones were half broken, crackling each time unless you held the cord in a specific way.

And a soft humming slipped from her lips, totally immersed in her study.

“Oh, oh, where do we begin? The rubble or our sins?”

Chris side glanced you and you side glanced him. Without the music, her crackly voice just sounded like a dying bird.

“And the walls kept tumbling down in the city that we love. Grey clouds roll over the hills bringing darkness from above.”

“An awful drawer and a terrible deaf tone singer,” he laughed, “I didn’t think I would learn so much about the things you’re bad at.”

You had to admit, he was right. You stomped hard onto his foot. His lips puckered and his eyes squeezed in his silent pain.

“Oops,” you feigned ignorance, “Guess I’m bad at watching my step too.”

“But if you close your eyes,” she sang a little louder and you felt that second hand humiliation wave through you hard, “Does it almost feel like nothing changed at all? And if you close your eyes..Does it almost feel like you’ve been here befor-”

Behind her, Anthony came whistling around a corner and stuck his head into the study nook, stealing her head phone from her ear and kissed her cheek hard.

She smiled and just as quickly frowned.

“C’mon babe,” said Anthony, “Sebastian’s throwing a killer basement bash for the holidays. Let’s go to the party.”

The college girl laughed mockingly at her boyfriend, “I’m sorry, did you forget that we have a test tomorrow? I don’t have time to go out wasting it away with your degenerate friends.”

Chris hands sneakily ran down over your thighs and slipped beneath the night gown to cup your belly. Your breath hitched. You couldn’t tell if you were aroused or disgusted anymore. Why of all times and places was he groping you now?!

“Baby,” the hockey player sighed, “You’re the smartest chick I know. I’m sure you’ll pass tomorrow. A little bit of dancing and drinking won’t change that.”

“No,” she firmly hissed and turned her head back to your book. Anthony’s chest deflated.

“Anthony just wanted to party all the time,” you scoffed to Chris, “He was so horny and stupid I can’t believe I actually dated him.”

He gave you a side ways glance, his thumb rubbed tiny circles into your skin.

“So you dumped him?” he asked looking between you and your younger studying self.

Sheepishly you looked away and shrugged, “...not exactly...it’s complicated.”

“Enlighten me,” he whispered into your ear, kissing your cheek after.

Your body grew warmer by the second especially in places you wouldn’t have guessed. Your insides felt alive and buzzing. It was so wrong.

“...I...” Anthony paused and took a few moments to break out his voice, “I can see your studies are more important than me, huh? We haven’t hung out in ages and...you’re never taking a break from study to enjoy life with me... Is this really more important? I mean, c’mon...” his eyes softened, “It’s almost Christmas break.”

And it was violent. You jumped watching her turn and announce cold cuttingly, “As a matter of fact, this is. I don’t have time to waste on dumb doornail guys when I need to succeed. I guess I can’t expect a hopeless hockey player to understand. Go skate on some ice and hit a put, it’s not like you’ll be able to feed your future family.”

His eyes widened.

Your eyes widened.

Her eyes darkened with scornful hate.

He kissed her head and shook his head, he whispered, “Merry Christmas Y/N. I wish you nothing but the world in your palm, I just won’t be in it.” He stood away shakily. Tears were pearled in his eyes as he walked away leaving her to her own devices. She grunted and went back to her studies... The next morning you had earned the top score of the class.

You knew the break up was quick, you didn’t remember saying such a mean thing to the guy you had fallen mad head over hill in love with.

You couldn’t believe you had been so cruel.

But you had. And there was nothing you could do to take it back. It happened. It was done. Finished.

And Anthony did nothing wrong except invite you to a party, a party you never went to, a party where he met his future wife.

“Spirit remove me from this place,” you choked as your chest began trembling.

Chris hushed you and kissed the side of your head, “It’s alright, I told you before, these are merely shadows of the past, things that have been.”

He wiped the unwilling tears coursing down your cheek.

You shook your head and wailed, “I don’t fucking care! Remove me! Take me somewhere else!”

A vile sobbing wail screamed from your lips. You didn’t know where it had come from. Your knees gave way and you fell, Chris’ arm caught your waist in time and laid you down across the carpet.

The vision of time phased away to the darkness. You felt your heart get louder, fearing the unknown pitch black. His hot hand cupped your cheek and you found yourself cowering into his chest.

1:40am 25th December, 2023, New York City.

There was a faint light in the area around you. Dim and blue. Your eyes struggled to open...you lifted your head from what you originally believed was Chris’ chest. Yet it revealed to you quickly that the warmth was only your soft pillows. You were back in your own bedroom again. The sheets has been wrapped around your waist and legs.

You didn’t know how to feel. You just cried. You buried your head and sobbed. You missed your mother and the father you once had. You missed Anthony and regretted how much you might’ve hurt him. And you missed being touched...you missed Chris’ warm hands holding you and the foolish grin he wore. You barely knew up but you mourned his existence that might’ve not been real at all.

Sitting up sniffling and sighing hard, you got out of your bed and walked to your kitchen. You reached for your coffee machine and paused. No, you need something stronger. You went to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of wine from earlier. You intended to finish the damn thing and forget everything for a while.

Turn back around you returned to your room to lay back in your three thousand dollars bedsheets...

Except you didn’t recall buying him too.

Chris, still here. Now laying across your very luxuriously soft duvet. He made it dramatically obvious, running his cheek into your pillow smelling the essence of your tears.

Your spine shot up and down hot. You tried not to smile. You were pleased he was here. You didn’t know where he came from or where he was hiding before but seeing him again welcomed something into your cold heart.

His eyebrows wiggled, “Oh, Merlot? For me? You shouldn’t have.”

You hummed feigning your displeasure, “Its Pinot Noir... I didn’t think you’d be so uncultured.”

He chuckled, looking down at the soft fabrics he was pinching, “Yea, well I’m probably more knowledgeable on hot chocolate and eggnog more than anything.”

He pat the spot beside him, inviting you to sit on your own bed. You felt it was ironic and ludicrous.

“Maybe...anyway...don’t you have somewhere else to be? Someone else to bother?” You snipped and cocked your hip.

“As a matter of fact...” he rolled onto his back and placed his hands behind his head, “I don’t, so be a good snowflake and join me, the covers are incredible!”

You snorted softly rolling your eyes, “I know,” you sat on the bed and unscrewed the bottle, you took a deep sip and cringed a croak, “I bought them.”

He took the bottle from his hands, not asking if he could. But really what was the point in fighting him. He stole your wine and took his own sip. You couldn’t help stare at his bobbing Adams apple.

He passed the bottle back. You were going to take another drink before Chris said, “It all makes sense now.”

You eyes him putting the bottle down....he was daring you to ask it, you knew it...and you complied.

“What?”

You crawled onto your knees on the mattress and waited with your curious eyes. The wine warmed your belly. You tossed your head to one side, staring up and down the Spirit. He had such an appealing form for something so inhuman and supposedly holy.

He smiled.

“What!?” you repeated needfully.

He sighed, “This,” he waved his hand towards you.

“You just gestured to all of me.”

“Exactly.”

Your eyes narrowed and a bold bolt drove through you, the twinge of annoyance mixed with frustrated anger, “If you’re going to talk in riddles, you can get the fuck off my bed and get the fuck out of my apartment. Merry fucking Christmas.”

His smile remained but his eyes sparkled with mischief. He lifted his chin.

“How you became a holiday hating, grievously malicious, uptight little cunt.”

Your eyes could have popped out from your head, “Excuse me?!” You gagged on nothingness. Your fists curled...‘What happens to people who punched Spirits in the nose?’

He shrugged and sighed, “You wanted to know. Don’t blame me for telling you the truth. I don’t do white lies, that’s not in my books.”

You grabbed the wine again and took a mean big gulp, glaring at him from the corner of your eye, “If that was the case,” your voice said with barbs, “Children wouldn’t believe in Santa and the north pole and his company of elves.”

He pursed his lips and nodded before he snatched the bottle from your hand and vanished it from existence.

“Hey!” you snapped, “I wasn’t finished with that! It cost me-”

“Nothing,” he interrupted and tapped his fingers on his chest, “It didn’t cost you a penny because you got a refund when you lied to the winery that it’s wax seal was broken upon delivery when it very well wasn’t...but upon tasting it you felt it wasn’t worth the price you paid therefore it shouldn’t cost you a dime...it didn’t cost you a damn thing.”

You sat back and gulped, ‘How the fuck-‘

“Christmas past remember? I see all...so don’t bother trying to convince me that you needed to finish that meaningless sip,” he curtly said, “You need to focus on bettering your mindset and yourself. It’s important.”

You crossed your arms over your chest and pouted down at the floor. You wanted to cry and scream with embarrassment, you wanted to kick or break something.

He smirked and picked up your chin with a long finger. You sniffled and jerked your head away. You crawled down to the very end of your bed. You pulled the covers back and kicked the sheets before sliding your feet under them and pulling them up to your chin.

You huffed softly, feeling the prickling heat of tears behind your eyes, why did he have to shame you so easily, “Or what, you gonna chain me up like Marlene? Go on then, call me a cunt again. Put me on your big ol’ scary naughty list.”

You shook your head and rolled your entire body away from him. A tear rolled from your eye and soaked down into your pillow, meeting the rest of its previous brethren tears.

Chris gazed down at you with sad hope. He really did want you to pass the test. He knew you had the potential, but did you have the drive? Maybe you just needed the push...

You were lonely in life more than ever before. You were miserable despite convincing yourself you were incredibly successful in all parts of life.

His arm circled forward and bodly rubbed down your middle and curled around your waist. You sniffled again, ignoring his touch all together.

He laid his cheek ontop of yours and whispered, “Do you want to know what happens to naughty girls like you? You want to really know what they get?”

You shut your eyes, you didn’t want to look at him. You were upset and too ashamed. You didn’t want to be teased again.

You mumbled grumpily, “Coal up their ass?”

“Oh it’s not coal that goes up there,” he hummed deeply

Your eyes fluttered awake.

His hand reached under the duvet and touched your bare thigh...his finger tips wriggled in between your thighs and attacked your clit...your breath hitched.

“I gather you need motivation if you are to improve your outlook on life,” he breathed huskily into your ear.

Your lips parted, your eyes squeezed tight. A gurgling moan crawled from your throat. You rocked your hips into his hand and savoured his controlling hand.

Tiny pants left your lips as he pushed two fingers inside of your salivating pussy. He twitched them back and forth at an average steady pace.

His hot wet tongue licked from your shoulder up to your ear. His loud sucking on your skin cause a small keen shudder to glide down your spine. He kissed your neck and sighed into your skin.

His knee curled up and pressed between your thighs, he fully intended to keep your entire pussy open and available to his instrumental fingers.

“Look at you,” he muttered, “So compliant when I have my fingers up this stubborn cunt. Are you going to promise you’ll behave and obey me from now on? Cease you insistent fight?”

“Pl-please Chris,” you gasped,

He smirked against you skin, “Please what?” he purred

“F-fuck!” you whined and pressed your ass back against him, trying to rub against his hidden cock.

He slapped your backside once making you jump. He chuckled wickedly, “I will if you promise to obey and listen.”

You panted and groaned, “Make- make me!” you wouldn’t submit so easily....not even for unworldly dick.

His noise was feral, rising from the back of his throat like a growl. He pressed his mouth to yours. You whined, his tongue choked you and pressed your tongue down, dominating you even in kiss.

He gasped pulling back, “Very well you stubborn slut.”

He snapped his fingers and poof- the blankets, your night gown and surprisingly all his clothing vanished from the bed all together.

You gasped at the feeling of his hot skin pressing up your back. Your hands clawed the pillows as he thrust his fingers fast and hard. Your eyes started to roll until the sensation was totally lost. He selfishly took his hand back, moments before you hit the high. You whimpered and trembled. You couldn’t breathed you were a mixture of frustration, anger and needy obsession. You would have done anything for him to finish.

He sat up and rolled you until your belly was laid over his legs. His cock you could not see but feel touching you made you excited and eager to know how it would feel to fuck you. His hands roughly kneaded your thighs and bottom.

‘No...he wouldn’t...’

His hand came flying down cracking across the skin of your ass. You squealed and felt your hips launch up in the air. The sting was like a cutting burn that lasted for around thirty seconds. He did it again and again. His flat palm struck you and would the pain absorb before rubbing the flesh. You didn’t fight him and that did not surprise him.

Your hips wriggled and twisted. His hand was harsh and fiery. You groaned and savoured it. And when it felt almost too much and you tried to wiggle free. He pinned you down hard by your neck and shoulders.

You bit your lips and cried, really cried. You grit your teeth and sobbed through each striking spank on your naked ass. Your hands clawed the bed and the skin of his thighs. He hailed into you harder. You screamed and choked on your sobs. It wasn’t fun anymore. It hurt and he wasn’t stopping even when you began squealing and kicking your legs on the bed trying to twist your hips away.

“Stop! Stop please! Please! It hurts! No more, no more.”

“If you didn’t want this, you’d behave.”

You swore he had to have been flaying your skin by his hand until you reached back and cupped or own hot cheeks, protecting yourself from his whiping palm.

You sobbed and trembled. You flinched and whimpered with shining tears when a surprisingly soft knuckle brushed your cheek and his husky voice hushed you softly.

He slowly turned you over off his lap and dragged you close to his chest.

He shoved his thumb into your mouth. You didn’t fight or pull back. You sucked on this digit, wrapping your lips around it. You felt his arm wrap around you and pull you closer. Your breasts pressed to his chest, he was warm

And his thumb gave you something to focus on instead of your burn sore bottom. You whined and laid your head back on the pillows. You rubbed to cheek on the warm skin of his shoulder while he soothed you from your tears using his soft cooing and thumb you greedily kept in your mouth. You moaned and mewled over it, licking the pad and scratching your tongue along his nail.

His fingers ran up and down your back. He pulled his thumb from your mouth with a gentle pop.

“Look at you,” he whispered, “Greedy, spoilt, but once you’re faced with real consequences you come to heel...”

You tried shaking your head, denying it. No. You were an independent woman with control.

A false mocking awe came from him as he said, “Oh yes, yes that’s exactly what you are. But you’re going to promise to be a good girl from now on or else you’ll never cum again.”

You were speechless...you wanted to be fresh with him and state that you still owned a vibrator...but what if he took it away like your wine.

He spread your thighs, he tugged your knees over his hip and rubbed your clit with his fingers until you were wet enough to his liking. He kissed you again, laughing as you pressed yourself up into him, stealing any physical touch you could possibly gain. He ran a soft hand across your cheek, tender and loving. His lips suckled their way down to your chest. Those red cherry lips plucked at your nipples and soft breasts.

Finally the tip of his pink cock touched your pussy. It was firm and from what you could see in the faint dark, it was lengthy. Your arms reached up and held onto his shoulders, you dug your nails sharply into his shoulders as he entered.

He grunted and sighed, struggling to stuff himself in and would pause when your noises were whines of pain. He made sure to avoid any tearing.

And when he managed to press himself taut into you, his balls touching your ass and thigh, you felt like you had been through a workout.

The walls of your cunt were filled to every crevice of his fat cock. You moaned when he moved tiny thrusts into you instead of brutally slamming.

You pressed your mouth to him again, his eyes looking back at you with adoration. He jerked his hips back a little meaner watching you gasp. He mocked your gasp before kissing your nose and then your mouth. He did it again to taste and feel your gasp.

He moved you back, dislodging quickly so that he could climb over you and enter swiftly inside. He picked your legs up with the backs of your knees and anchored himself down, harder and faster picking up the speed.

“You hear that?” he asked and moved himself in smaller jerks, “Dirty little slut, you’re drooling syrup all over my pole.”

And if you weren’t so close to cumming you would’ve laughed. His hand pressed down on your throat. He barrelled into you and slapped a breast.

The sensations of being prevented to breathe as straight and the slap intensifies all your senses. You groaned and choked.

He hissed, bending down to press his nose into yours.

Your legs wrapped tight around his waist trying to lift your hips up to meet him.

“You want to cum?” he snarled? You nodded trying to not cry again. God you needed it.

“Pl-pl-please,” you gasped through the violent thrusts.

He licked your cheek and growled, “You promise to be on your best behaviour from now on?”

You whimpered and nodded.

His thumb attacked your clit as he fucked you.

“Cum,” he whispered, “Cum for me on my cock little slut.”

Your body contorted, muscles strained as you released a soundless scream. You threw your head back let you body be consumed by the orgasm you let tear through your entire body. Your bones and chest rattled. When air finally came to your lungs you let out a powerful sob. But Chris gazing down at you bore joyful vision at your smile as you cried.

You felt incredible, hit by a bus made of all things delightful.

His cock was still inside you. You didn’t take a moment to think about him or whether he cummed. You selfishly enjoyed the gift he gave you and forgot about the promise you had vowed.

He pulled away slowly. You hissed at the departure. So sensitive.

You curled lazily up into a ball and fluttered your eyes shut.

You only recalled feeling his hot lips against your ear, “I will return to you when the bell chimes once more...” his pecked your cheek and left you to lay in your mess, exhausted and falling into your own sleep again.

[briskunt]

ike eveland hero/villain voice pack: no-spoilers review

got my hands on this voice pack recently and figured it would be prime content LMAO. i’m going to write down basic observations and hopefully it’ll convince y’all to support our boy 🙏

⚠️ BLIND REACTIONS TO THE VOICE PACKS BELOW! ⚠️

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

hero pack

first off this is one of the longer (if not longest ⁉️) standalone voice pack i have in my collection. hell, it might be twice as long as some other vps i have

ike has a lower voice than usual here. very warm blanket

but also a rougher type of ike, i think. he’s still the sweet guy you expect, but with a little more weight and responsibility, you know? most of the time people default him to “cute ike” so this is a really nice look into “cool ike” as well as cute

CORNY SCHWORNY SOUND EFFECT

speaking of i would be doing the audio boy a disservice if i didn’t mention the audio quality. ike vps have excellent atmospheric sound design and when i compare this one to his past vps, you can tell he had fun picking out sfx and mixing them

i’m impressed how much worldbuilding there is and how naturally it’s been implemented. this is an immersive vp

if you like when ike gets assertive and speaks up you’ll be happy. and if you like when ike gets royal-flash levels of chuuni dork you’ll be happy

CORNY SCHWORNY SOUND EFFECT RETURNS

might be my editor brain being nitpicky but he uses the same phrase to transition twice in a row and it set me off

oh holy shit he calls you that?

oh this voice pack would do numbers with a demographic

easily one of my new favorite vps. i don’t have every ike vp so apologies if this doesn’t apply, but out of my collection this one hits a niche that none of the others do: a cool, nonchalant-badass, resolute typa ike. don’t misunderstand though, he’s still as dorky as ever. honestly i think this is the dorkiest i’ve seen him in a vp

this pack is less fanservice, more story. yep, there are moments that seem romantic, but it’s very easy to imagine the relationship between ike and the listener as something else. it’s versatile and i really enjoy that considering how many voice packs go into the whole heterosexual-romance thing. i wasn’t kidding about the worldbuilding. it’s simple but effective, and illustrates the setting excellently. close your eyes when you listen to this one, it’s a good experience. ike put a lot of detail and effort into the voice performance and sfx, and it shows

if you liked luca’s pampering/scolding voice, you might enjoy this one too. definitely recommending for anyone that loves when ike takes the lead, or anyone that appreciates an ambiguous relationship between liver and listener! honestly, this would be an incredibly safe buy for even folx hesitant on buying voices. ike flexes some aspects of his wide range not just as a voice actor but also as a writer and sound designer. if you’ve heard that quilldren get well-fed from ike voices then they’ll be FEASTING on this one

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

villain

the wallpaper is only included in the villain pack. this art WILL make you sick in the head. i really love the rendering and lighting. you can recognize a lot of elements from his 1.0 outfit like the pattern on the left of his mantle, the pins (?), and his book. i’m glad i’m not tempted to change my wallpaper, because in every wallpaper included in the pack, ike or shoichi’s face would always get cut off by the clock on my iphone’s lock screen. beautiful artwork stunted by how niji awkwardly cuts off wallpapers

okay fuck what i said earlier now THIS is the longest standalone voice pack i own. and it’s not even close. looks like someone outdid himself

again low voice ike tskr tskr whatever. it’s lower than the hero pack. i haven’t compared it to the halloween eki stream, but it’s basically a faster-paced, perkier(?) eki voice

(to be clear it’s not eki. this is villain!ike. i think. will not update if it actually is him, i ain’t spoiling that)

surprisingly domestic here

he says a lot of big words

it’s giving cyrus from pokémon. you understand.

oh my god the backstory

LESGOOOOO THE LAUGH

oh he’s a little fucked up in this one

just a heads up: i’m sure it was plain before but the villain pack has way darker themes than the hero one. do i think it’s intense? not really. but if you have #yandere blocked then you might want to skip this one

once again the relationship is ambiguous here but imo it sounds more romantic than the hero one. this might be an overstatement, but if you can’t handle dubcon in general i’d also skip this. again, nothing explicit happens but if you really can’t stand when the villain has a good guy in their clutches, skip this one

anyways. that rasp is worth the warnings 😳

this is definitely a voice pack for a demographic

and i also understand why my friend popped off in the gc about it LMMAOOOOO

look. it’s a sfw voice pack. but if you’re a kinky son of a bitch you’ll find something to enjoy here. he talks down on you a bit and the subject matter sure is the subject matter.

i think of this as a more intense version of the hero pack. the setting is completely different than what you get in the hero pack and feels a lot more visceral. for example the sound effects are a bit more “realistic”, and the listener is in a dangerous place without any backup. to be clear: the listener is not evil in the villain vp.

i worry that i’m being too heavy-handed about warnings but considering some folx’ boundaries online it bears repeating! if you can’t handle yandere or dubcon, be careful. but if it’s only a mild discomfort to you, it should be fine.

regardless i doubt there will be another one vp like this for a long time. if you soaked up the eki stream like a sponge? GET THIS! if you like ike being mean and deranged get this. if you’re down horrendous sure, get this i guess, and then follow it up with ike’s white day ex if you have it? i feel like that would be a good pairing.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

overall

if you’re into voice packs then i’d say getting one of these is a must-buy. if not for the romance, then for the story and worldbuilding. if. if not the story then because hero!ike is a darling and villain!ike is hot.

even if he’s not your oshi ike’s packs are always a delight! and these are some of the most fun i’ve had with one of his releases. idk what else to say. if you like the guy even a little, it’s worth listening to. he’s definitely in his wheelhouse on both hero and villain. if this is your first ike vp you may be surprised how high the production value is considering it’s all by one guy

get hero if you want a lighthearted conflict, immersion, and a connection to the listener that isn’t necessarily romantic. get villain if you want more drama, more danger, more… uh… i wouldn’t really call it degradation but he has his moments. there isn’t a connected story, so feel free to get both but don’t sweat it if you don’t!

[trutrustories]

STUDY IN LOKI ROMANCE

Part 3: 1893

Since we're only a few days away from the last episode, I decided to COUNT DOWN everything we´ve got so far ( that can be interpreted very easily as romantic ) and discuss what the actual fuck is going on with second season. Because even though I shipped lokius practically from S1E2, I absolutely did NOT expect this kind of development. (Not that I´m complaining)

Warning: This is gonna be LONG post, lots of screenshots, lots of SPOILERS, lot of "oh-my-god-they-so-cute" language, and little bit of meta.

I originally thought that this post would be everything at once, but since I have just too many screenshots this time around, I´ll have to split it. so every post will be one episode. Color coding means:

IIIIIIIIII = anything, that coud potentialy be just acting choice.

IIIIIIIIII = everything else (tzn.: whatever was written, and/or carefully prepared by filmmakers. )

side note: I already wrote, about how amazing it is, that Mobius is unable to fight but fights anyway and how beautifuly, and ridiculously brave he is HERE. But this is about Loki/Mobius interactions, so I´ll try my best not to talk about THAT. (Even when I´m really happy, that s2 continues with this formula and Mobius is still his completely defenseless while aggressively brave self. I love him, btw.)

EPISODE 1 HERE EPISODE 2 HERE

Episode 3, here we go:

22) matching suits part 2 anyone, who work on those costumes: I want to kiss you all!

23) Another exhibition of touches:

the challange name is: "how close we can get, before we sink into each other"

24) "And they lived happily ever after..." They had some lokius fan in the editing room, I´m telling ya! This retro movie style transition... THAT is my roman empire...

like seriously? what is the purpose of this? I can´t wrap my head around it. someone just thought that it is really crucial to end this scene with two of them in a circle. OK.

but WHY?

It was LITTERALY used only once! (I´m sorry, but as someone, who works as an editor, this just driving me crazy 🤒🫠)

25) Loki and Mobius enjoying popcorn:

I have several things to say here:

ever heard about when one person is "forced" to have fun for the first time, and to try new things by the other person, and he´s protesting and is all about work and serious matters, but secretly loves it and is visibly relaxed and happy? - Because I´m sure this is some bloody romantic comedy trope, that everyone have seen about hundred times!

"Oh look, you have a piece of food on the chin, let me just…"

I know I already said this somewhere, but, this is the moment, where in my language suddenly (completely randomly) switched from formal way of speaking to each other to intimate way of speaking to each other. (I´m Czech, btw, and I have no idea, what happened in that recording studio but it had to be interesting)

26) Also... Bickering like married couple (part 3)

27) "You know sometimes I forget, that you are one of them... Blows my mind!"

Mobius being Loki´s fan.

Also yeas. Loki is one of them. God. And Mobius is a small, normal dude. JUST A HUMAN. Analyst, even! And they´re eating popcorn together.... also Loki will do whatever Mobius wishes

28) another "let´s be as close as we physically can" challange

Loki can´t keep only eye on him. he needs hands, because reasons

29) Mobius supporting Loki in using magic...

... or I should say Loki using Magic, whenever Mobius wishes, because...

"Will you handle this please?" "Gently!"

And on top of that... not him, explaining, what just happened, to the public, by: "The amazing Loki, everyone! He´ll be here all week! 🥳🥳🥳"

who the heck asked, Mobius? stop showing off with your magical boyfriend

30) Victor/Ravonna - the most transparent mirror ever:

THIS scene? Are you kidding? Ravonna running towards Victor: "Mr Timley! are you okay? And Mobius running practicly at the same time towards Loki with: You allright?" and both helping their man up on their feet?! IN SYNC! this is too much.

WTF

31) THE BIKE THIS. this is the most GREENLY green point, I can think of. Someone had to have this vision. This idea. And put it in to screenplay. Someone had to find the bike. Someone was shooting this. Camera is moving around them. And they were all like GREAT idea, let´s have them riding tandem bike while chasing Ravonna and Timely, that makes complete sense! (even when we have Loki chasing Brad USING MAGIC one episode back) anyway... ever heard about "let´s do this crazy stupid thing - absolutely not - and then they do the thing" trope?

32) Loki going with Mobius, not even thinking about it anymore.

And to think, that I was expecting something like S01E03 (Lamentis episode)! Once again, I wasn´t prepared for amount of Lokius content I was actually served. What a surprise! 🤯

[boo8008]

Three Months - Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Fem!Reader Chapter 02: Mince

Prologue | Chapter 01: Quadriller | Chapter 02: Mince

Series Summery: Its been one year since The Bear's soft open, and with everything running smoothly, Carmen's lost in his thoughts, until the final table of the night is seated.

Warnings: angst | fluff | ghosting mention | mentions of suicide | language | mental health | pining | unrequited love????? | substances (alc & weed) | yelling | grief | descriptions of panic attacks | eventual smut | mention of covid | self doubt | no proofreading just sleep deprivation & back pain running this show | awkwardness & cringe of a new friendship/relationship/situationship

Chapter Summery: After the minor introduction of you and Carmy, your about to prepare the first dinner post Covid and before Stevie and Michelle leave, one Carmen is also coming to. Only cooking dinner is not going as smoothly as you'd hoped.

Mince (v.) - to finely divide food into uniform pieces smaller than diced or chopped foods, prepared using a chef's knife or food processor

Word Count: ~3,865

My Notes bb: Hey….. How yall doin? Sorry this took so long to get out, work and life suddenly got busy and I didn't have time to write. I hurt my back though so it kinda forced me to write and crank this out. Hopefully its not as bad I as I still feel like it is but yea. Again sorry this took so long to get out. Hope you enjoy! (ps my therapist thinks this is a decent outlet though lol thanks Sandra)

2021 (December)

Carmen hardly ever came to dinner after those first few weeks, and Michelle said something about him working at Eleven Madison Park. While you were happy he head ended up at the high end restaurant, you knew he was working under one hell of an asshole. He seemed to be doing fine enough though. Granted, you would only catch small glimpses of him on nights when you stayed later than intended and he walked only into his room to sleep, with just a small mumbled ‘hi’ thrown your way. Eventually he managed to move out on his own and only came to dinner about once every two months when Michelle would insist on it.

Once covid hit though, you'd basically lost contact with him. Michelle even rarely managed to drag him into group facetime calls with you. They were mainly her or Stevie recounting their last two weeks of quarantine in a dramatic fashion and you and Carmen would be  listening half heartedly. If Carmen was there, he seemed to just sit out on a fire escape in his building and smoke, thinking about other things. Everytime you picked up though, missing being around the two people you actually liked. You would use it as a little reprieve from writing yet another ‘easy recipes for quarantine’ article, or to have company while you organized and re-organised random spots throughout your apartment. 

Mostly though you would use it to get away from the depressive thoughts of ‘what am I doing with my life?’ or ‘if something happened to me, only Michelle and Stevie would really know.’ you didn't realize how much you missed being around people until you couldn't anymore, just stuck with yourself and your cat in your apartment. You missed the mindless chatter from coworkers at your office and in person interviews with cranky chefs because they gave you more to think about than yourself. All you began to think about was how bad the piece you were working on was, even if your editor said it was great. You felt tired and tired of being tired. All you wanted was to have a nice dinner with Stevie and Michelle, and fuck even hearing from Carmen would be amazing even if it was another awkward conversation with someone you just barely knew.

In short covid sucked ass and made your already anxious brain even worse. Not to mentioned your sense of time became fucked and all of your normally scheduled daily things also hard to keep track of. While quarantine had somewhat ended, you all found yourselves too busy trying to get back into the groove of ‘normalcy’ and offices to have dinner again, canceling for meetings or being too tired. Leading to today, when after months of planning and rescheduling you had completely forgotten that dinner was not only being held at you place, but you were also cooking because Michelle and Stevie had nothing in their kitchen because they were leaving two weeks early to isolate before Christmas in Chicago, and to top it all off, Carmen was (for once) coming to dinner. You remembered only when Stevie sent you a text asking what time worked best to come over, and not wanting to cancel for the tenth time, you told them 7:00. So you left work early to run for the subway, then run to the grocers to get real food, and then ran home to start cooking. 

Only cooking was not going as planned. 

It was 6:30 and dinner was nowhere near done. It was like you had forgotten everything you knew about actually cooking, and you’re a food journalist for Christ's sake! This should have been something you could do fairly easy! You write about things like this all the time! Yet here you are, chicken suddenly burning in the oven from when you stepped away to check your recipe to make sure everything was going okay and you that were good to start the pasta. You quickly removed the now pucks from the oven and turned it off. You resolved to just sitting on the floor across from your oven and crying, thinking about where it all went wrong-not the dinner but everything. Quiet sobs racked your body as you sad down on your kitchen floor, forgetting about your phone and the fact your last text said “doors unlocked when you get here”.

Carmen didn’t want to go to dinner but knew he wouldn't hear the end of it from Michelle if he didn’t show up. And to be frank he wanted her to stop calling him a hermit too. So he grabbed his jacket after lunch service and headed home to shower and change, doing his best to not think of his shitty boss saying he was worthless for taking one evening off. He hadn't done that even during covid, constantly asking what the plan was or if the kitchen was open. He decided to head out early to your place sending a quick text and leaving. As he approached your door he could definitely smell burning, very unlike the pre-covid dinners you made. While not Michelin level, what you made were perfect home cooked and leftover meals to him. A nice change from his go to PB&Js with Doritos and a Coke. He checked his phone again making sure the apartment number was right and reread your last text again. He still knocked on the door before he opened it, out of habit. 

“Yo its me,” Carmen called out, peeling off his jacket as he looked around the entryway of your small apartment. You jumped at the knock and stood up as the door opened, and as Carmen called out, you turned to face the sink in your kitchen.

“In here!” your voice was wobbly but you preyed he wouldn't notice. Carmen followed the sound and walked into the kitchen, seeing the blackened chicken on the stove and the mess of the rest of the kitchen. 

“Jesus, the fuck did you try to cook?” he said it without thinking, and immediately you broke again. Crumbling in on yourself and to tired to try and hide it. Tears raining down your face and carmen short circuited, watching as you again sunk to the floor in a puddle. 

“Shit fuck I-I’m sorry. Fuck! Wh-what can I do? What do you want me to do? Fuck sorry I-I’m bad at this.” he panics as he looks down at you crying. “Wh-want me to go? I-I can go- I should go. Shit, Sorry again.” 

“S-s-stay?” 

“What?” Carmen's pretty sure he heard wrong, after all he just caused you to meltdown from his social awkwardness. 

“S-stay?” you say more clearly. You don't know why you ask it, let alone how it crawls out of your crying, shaking self. Its been so long sense you've been near someone else even a little close to you so maybe that's it. He stops for a minute looking down at you as you look up at him still crying. “Please?”

“... O-okay.” 

He isn't sure why he stays, or why he sits down next to you while you cry, but he does. The apartment is quiet outside of you sniffles and the occasional sob but carmen stays put. Neither of you realize how much you've started leaning towards each other until your head  is lightly lying on his shoulder. You’ve mostly stopped crying now but your face is still wet and your eyes are puffy. 

He isn't sure what to say, with his mom asking if you were okay was off limits. It made everything worse. It lead to screaming and yelling and throwing things. He thinks about what someone normal, someone like Stevie, or Pete, or Natalie, what they would ask someone they hardly know if they saw them having a panic attack and decides to just do it, praying you’d be somewhat normal compared to his mother.

“You-you okay?” you'd almost forgot he was there, even if you were leaning on him, and sat up straighter, wiping your face.

“Yea, I’m-I’m sorry dinners ruined and for getting like that,” you say. Tears of embarrassment springing up at knowing that this (basically) stranger saw you cry. 

“No no your fine-your cool,” he can feel panic rising again at making you cry again. “No no no offense but I-I was kinda in the mood for pizza anyways.” He's only partly lying, he wanted a home cooked meal but the pizza place he passed on his way here smelled greasy and amazing on his empty stomach. 

“Are you sure? I still have the kitchen to clean and I just don't want you all to think that I don't care o-or anything that i-its our last dinner before you guys go back to Chicago for Christmas and I just-” 

“Yea, your fine , its fine if we have pizza, I’ll text Michelle to grab it on their way over, they wont mind.”

“Okay…” you mumble, caving in on the choice of pizza and leaning your head back on the cabinet behind you. Carmens already pulling his phone out of his pocket when he spots the new texts from Stevie and Michelle on his lock screen. 

Stevie: ‘Sorry gang, we dont think we can make it tonight, we still have a lot to pack 😕’

Michelle: ‘Yea I’m sorry i know its so close to dinner but maybe you two can get along without us????’ 

Michelle: ‘Sorry again lovelies xoxo 😘’

Michelle: ‘Dont be a dick carm 💛😘’

“Well fuck,” Carmen mumbled. He was now on his own to make conversation. “Looks like its just us for dinner. ‘Said they still have packing to do.”

“Oh,” was all you could think to say. Of course the universe would have the only two people you could actually converse with busy on the one night you were meant to see them. 

“Yea…” Carmen wasn't sure how to proceed. Does he leave cause the only bridge between you both isn't showing? Does he stay because he already committed to dinner? God he feels so awkward.

“Well we could still get pizza?” you ask. “I mean you came all this way so it kinda feels like a waste.”

“You sure?”

“Yea, I mean I still gotta clean the kitchen but theres a place around the corner thats amazing after crying,” you say with a bit of a laugh to help bring up the awkward mood.

“Let me help you and we can go?” he suggests, already rising to his feet and offering you a hand.

“Are you sure? I mean the chicken I think is welded on there at this point,” you say. As your taking his hand and he pulls you to stand from your floor, you see his forearms flex and your mind short circuits as you look probably a second longer than you need to at the muscles and veins there. Luckily he doesn't notice because he's already turning and grabbing the now cool baking sheet with the chicken on it. 

“Yea it’ll go faster, I think I can get this off too,”  Carmen quickly took charge of washing the bowls, cutting boards, and other kitchen utensils you had pulled out in your frenzy to cook dinner on time. 

In nearly no time at all the kitchen was clean and the two of you had left for the pizza parlor a block away. While yes the cleaning was a little awkward, the noise of the city on the walk made making any conversation difficult, meaning neither of you had to talk or struggle to make conversation. 

“Pepperoni good?” Carmen asked as the two of you stood awkwardly next to each other, both of your jackets zipped all the way up thanks to the near unbearable cold outside.

“Y-yea, they make bomb garlic knots too if you want some,” you responded, skimming over the menu even though you already knew what the plan was. 

“C-cool, um,” Carmen looked around the small shop, there was just the counter and a cooler for drinks, no seating. The place reminded him of the beef, dingy, and not that healthy, but god damn was this about to be the best food he could ever get. “Did you want to go back to your place? Cause… cause there's no tables and stuff…” Carmen cringed at the awkward way the words came out. 

“Yea if that's good with you?” you said taking a step forward, the two of you would look at each other before looking away, as if the tiled flooring was so interesting. You decided to take a page out of Stevie’s book, he was better with people than you were so you prayed the attempted joke would land. “I mean we could eat out in the cold if your more comfortable?” A smile pressed its way onto Carmen’s face and you considered that a victory. 

“Yea no, I love eating outside when its about to snow,” he snickered. “Reminds me of home.” You both shifted closer as the people in front of you pushed pass you both to leave with their pizzas. As you both stepped up to the counter Carmen was faster than you in not only placing the order, a large peperoni with a side of garlic knots, but also whipping out his wallet and paying, you on the other hand had barely stumbled out a hello and barely started shifting your bag to get out your own wallet by the time he was done.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you mumbled as you both stepped off to the side to wait.

“Yea well, its cool I got the money,” Carmen added. You only partly doubted it, he worked at the highest rated restaurant in the world but also lived in New York so it kinda balanced out. You both distracted yourselves for a few minuets looking at your phones, you taking to a word search game and Carmen playing the fun game of ‘who is this and why do I have their number?’ with his contacts. It felt a little more relaxing compared to earlier, more like the same air you both got when Stevie and Michelle would leave the room at your normal dinners, not pressured to talk but liking the fact another person was next to you.

“Order 447!” you and carmen both jumped as the number was yelled through the small shop. Carmen stepped forward and took the box and bag from the worker, turning to you, where you grabbed the bag and began to head out before he got up the words to protest that he's got it. 

Luckily the only awkward part of the walk back to your apartment was the elevator ride up. As you both stepped into your apartment you were both greeted by the loud yelling of your cat as she rounded the corner to yell at you for leaving for a whole 30 minuets.

“Yea yea your fine baby,” you told her as you took the pizza from Carmen. “You good with just sitting on the couch? I don't want to do anymore kitchen cleaning.”

“Heard,” Carmen carmen said as he took off his jacket. He was looking down at the feline weaving between his legs and bent down to let her sniff him so he could pet her, instead she smelt him and abruptly ran back deeper in the apartment and he smiled a little at the cat, following it with his eyes to you coming out of the kitchen with two cans of coke, paper plates, and paper towels. Something in him stirred at the mundane and domestic sight but he waved it off as more anxiety.

“Wait-shit-your not allergic to cats are you?” you asked panicked.

“N-no,” Carmen's voice broke a little as he said it and he cleared his throat. “No… My, um, my mom never let us have one when I was a kid, something about the furniture. I always wanted one though.” Why’d his voice break like that? Why’d he bring up his mom? Fuck now he's gonna have to explain everything.

“Cool-cool,” you were turning to head deeper into the apartment again and Carmen followed, getting a better look at the place now that he wasn't rushing to the kitchen. “That's Mince, cause when I got her she was tiny and I wasn't thinking ahead.” He took in the living room, a nice, small sectional couch with a blanket over the back was against one wall, and a tv with bookcases full of nick-nacks and heavy looking books with holiday lights around it. The center of the room had a buttery carpet and the coffee table with the pizza and garlic knots on it. 

“Make yourself at home,” you added. You’d never felt more aware of your actions than now, as Carmen looked at more of your space with posters and pictures around it and you were just trying to tell yourself to act normal. He took in the dining table with four perfectly mismatched chairs that was tucked into a corner on the other side of the wall from the kitchen. Mince catches his attention from the couch, batting at his hand from her spot on the arm rest. He again goes to pet her only for her to skip off and run to the opposite end where you are. Carmen finally takes a seat on the couch, the two of you as far as you could be. You both dig into the pizza and Carmen can’t help but think about how good it is. 

“Fuck,” he groaned. It definitely compensates for the shitty morning he had and the rollercoaster of emotions he felt around you.

“Right?” you said through a smile. You were turning on the tv and poking around for something to watch. 

“‘S so fucking good,” he said through another bite. “Chicago is still better though.” he mumbled.

“Fuck off,” you finally settled on Bobs Burgers that you left off on. You both ate in a mostly comfortable silence, focusing on the show and avoiding looking at each other. Once you felt you were full you settled back into the couch, and glanced at carmen sitting in your space, he had made himself more comfortable, and he looked nice there, leaned up against the arm of the couch with one arm draped over the back of the couch fiddling with a part of the blanket and his legs spread wide. You shifted your focus back to the television not wanting to make it more weird. 

“So… did you finish packing already?” you settled on conversation to distract you from the thought of crawling into his lap. “For Chicago I mean.”

“Oh um,” Carmen was a little startled by the sudden conversation, but fuck it you already cried in front of him today, it was his turn to share. “N-no I’m just staying here, rather not watch my mom drive the car through a wall and my brother fight my uncle again.”

“Jeez, I’m sorry,” Steve had told you some of what happened that Christmas, mainly summarized as a big blowout of a fight between Michelle’s cousin Mikey and her kinda-uncle Lee, and her aunt Donna driving her car through the living room. God why'd you bring this up? He probably didn't want to talk about it. “Did you have any plans then?” Please let this be a decent change of topic you think.

“Just work, go home, smoke and eat, sleep, just like the last two years,” he says with a sigh. “Wh-What about you?”

“No, I was just gonna stay in and watch some movies.” Carmen answers with an affirming ‘hm’, not wanting to overstep and ask more questions. Even with the both of you wanting to talk more, neither of you know how to go from here. You turn you attention back to the television as Carmen turns his head a little to quietly observe you. 

Curled up in the corner of the couch in a cozy, old, and ratty sweatshirt with some leggings and fuzzy holiday grippy socks, hair down, and face still a little puffy from the winter air and your tears, but still beautiful in the darkening light of your apartment, mundanely so. Not a supermodel ripped from the cover of vogue, or an unobtainable influencer with hair and makeup perfectly placed for pictures. You look like you belong there. You look real. Cozy and warm on your couch with the lights from the streets down below hitting you just so. Home he thinks, before quickly turning his attention back to the tv. Its not like he’d ever have a shot with you anyways, he’s always too busy, or too angry, or too much of an asshole in general. Where’d all of those thoughts even come from? He hardly ever felt at home with anyone, especially outside of the kitchen. 

As the show plays on the two of you get lost in it and enjoying the act of being alone together, occasionally steeling glances at each other. You find yourself kind of liking being with him, not necessarily talking or interacting but the feeling of another person in the same room as you feels nice. Carmen won't say it but he's enjoying himself too. The show and coziness of your apartment make him feel relaxed more than his barren dingy apartment ever could, and the abundance of stuff artfully placed helps give him something to look at and think on rather than get lost in his anxiety and self doubt. Why does she have a Halloween decoration out its December…right? He thinks. Your both trying to think on how to ask for what you want but you beat him too it. Probably because you grew up with Steve and his weird ball of encouragement always on your side.

“Did you want to hang out? On Christmas I mean,” you finally get the courage to ask. Phew, not that bad.

“I mean I-I don't want to intrude,” Carmen starts. “Plus I have work the next day.”

“You could sleepover? If-if you want,” you prepose. “We can still smoke, eat, and sleep if you want. All the traditions you enjoy, a-and I don’t think I’m far from the line you need?” 

You definitely aren't. In fact your apartment is somehow on a faster route to work than his own. The only reason you know is because of the Bake It Nice pop up bakery Eleven Madison Park does once a month that you always try to make time for. Carmen thinks on it for a second, and your sure he's looking for a way to let you down nicely.

“You sure your okay with me leaving at 5:00 in the morning?” he asks. 

“Absolutely,” you say with a smile, and something in Carmen stirs. “Plus I can pass the fuck out again when you leave anyways.” he smiles at that, still unsure what feeling he's having right now, but he likes it.

“Okay,” he says and you both return you attention back to the show smiling like children. Your legs a little more outstretched towards carmen and his body begging to sink further into your couch. Relaxing to the feeling of you.

[jack-kellys]

k so yall voted to see my 2023 final essay for a class called london in performance. which wasnt too serious. basically i compared the national theatre's phaedra [which i did not like that much tbh. one of the lines in my paper is "to truly send the criticism home, compared to the white critics who praised the play with four stars, Polish editor Andrzej Lukowski and Pakistani critic Arifa Akbar are the ones to only give two stars on the story that centers an illegal immigrant (The Stage)." just saying] as an adaptation of a classic greek play to the west end's general cash-in commercialization. and then my argument was that the center of that pendulum is somehow fucking newsies @ the troub im so sorry.

HERE ARE THE HIGHLIGHTS:

first of all i got to cite myself as like. an expert which was SO funny

"To preface, because of my five years of close knowledge about this subject matter, its multiple stagings, scripts, and casts, I am well aware that this musical as a whole is quite average."

importantly, my definition of a revival in this paper is "creating something accessible to a modern audience for the sake of improving and adapting an original source material into a performance". if it doesnt improve and/or adapt it then it fails imo

"Lines [in the script] that hold weight are sort of dropped, in favor of keeping the show hopeful at all times. The reflection lies in the younger generation taking hold of a new age, rather than in workers rights, child poverty and abuse, and unification.  Newsies at Wembley Park, the first professional revival and first iteration of the musical outside of the United States, flips this as a performance."

i called newsies 2012/livesies staging "left-right up-down" like a video game combo lmfao

"Wembley Park’s revival inserts viewers into the action of the city by default, but also the events that befall the newsboys.... Two police officers stalk in front of the audience as a scene with a new sense of impending doom plays out on the stage. The strikebreaking battle is... level with many of the audience’s seats, and boys escape officers and grown men through the aisles helping each other stand upright while shouts of “Move, move!” are called out .... as a pair hurry away up a ladder behind my aisle seat."

"The expansive take on staging (since as I said before, the musical itself is average) almost takes the place of design. ... Pulitzer’s desk resides on top of a platform of newspaper stacks, emphasizing his position in the hierarchy over the children selling those papers especially as the newsboys push it on with much effort. The towers are made to look like black metal with rust and peels. The lighting is white and natural during scenes. The ensemble’s costumes look more similar to each other, making them appear more unified visually compared to Broadway. The design is in the ensemble’s interactions, dance, and fluid movement through the city of the show, letting the performance and the dancers speak for themselves."

then mandatory michael section:

"What struck me the most watching it had to be Jack’s casting, and new character positionality within the context of the story. Never before has Jack Kelly been a Black newsboy union leader, not in any professional production. Played by Michael Ahomka-Lindsay, Jack’s role was much more electric. His fear of leading the strike became more personal, his baggage with the reform center gained more onstage intersectionality, his relationship with Katherine became even more complex and out of reach. It changes many of those past dropped lines, it made me hear lines differently than I had used to. It’s a more effective reflection that makes the events in the story a bit more tangible to an audience that could have initially been caught up in the grandiose dance numbers- not to mention the performance opening amidst strikes nationwide."

best part:

jack-kellys. "Welcome to..." Jack-Kellys, 23 Jan 2023, 3:46AM, this-is-what-i-mean-by-five-years-of-close-experience. 

[ghostofbambifanfiction]

Irish Wish Recap - Part 1

Remember when I did commentary on Midnight Sun? I felt like doing something similar with Irish Wish, in part because I had a great time laughing at that movie when I watched it with Bee, but also because @ali2cann asked me to share my thoughts on it. So I've decided to recap the entire film, but in parts, because that way the fun lasts longer for everyone. Please note that this is all good natured. This movie was ridiculous but I still had a lot of fun watching it.

Anywhere, here's Part 1!

The film opens with a dictionary definition of the word "wish," which is: to want something that cannot or probably will not happen, or alternatively: the website that we ordered this movie from. There is a shot of some Tourism Ireland approved scenery before we cut to stock footage of New York.

A glamorous New York book launch party is in full swing, and has absolutely been filmed at the Clarence Hotel in Dublin. I know this for a fact because Dublin is the place of my birth, the origin of my being, the city that shaped my childhood, and because the filmmakers made absolutely no effort to change the exterior, particularly the massive lintel above the entrance that bears the name "The Clarence Hotel" in great big letters. The only indication that we are actually in New York is the brief flash of a yellow cab and a cunningly placed hotdog vendor, because outside of a swanky New York book launch party is exactly where a hotdog vendor would be.

You know what? Forget what I just said. This doesn't seem to be a book launch at all. The signage near the entrance reads "A NIGHT WITH PAUL KENNEDY." So I guess it's some sort of fancy meet and greet? The book itself is already a best seller. What is this meant to be????

Anyway. Paul Kennedy. Get used to that name, because this movie is about to ram it down your fucking throat. Paul Kennedy, ladies and gentlemen. Paul Kennedy.

Maddie Kelly, played by Lindsay Lohan, arrives at the party and exits her cab. She is wearing a dress that says "fancy book party" and a scarf that says "brunch with mom."

At the same time, Paul Kennedy arrives at the event. Paul Kennedy is wearing a plaid patterned suit to subtly indicate that he, Paul Kennedy, is Irish, rather than the O'Neills GAA jersey that actually forms part of the traditional Irishman's uniform. Paul Kennedy, you see, is a stylish Irish man, a stylish Irish man named Paul Kennedy, and he wears stylish Irish clothes. Maddie is so transfixed by Paul Kennedy's rakish good looks and stylish Irish attire that she doesn't notice that her scarf has gotten caught in the cab door and is nearly garrotted when the cab drives away.

You know, I'm really glad that this mishap occurred. I was so worried that Maddie would not be a relatable character, so it came as such a relief to see that she is Clumsy, which is the most relatable trait that you can give to a female character without detracting from her hotness in some way.

Paul Kennedy greets Maddie and we hear his terrible fake Irish accent for the first time. The press goes wild upon seeing Paul Kennedy. Paul Kennedy is, as previously mentioned, a best selling author, and Maddie is his editor. Paul Kennedy pulls Maddie in front of the press and announces that he owes everything to her and her brilliant writing and editing skills, which tbh I wasn't expecting because he's clearly not the endgame love interest in this movie and that would normally qualify him as a dick from minute one. What a nice guy that Paul Kennedy is!

Just then, Maddie gets a call from her mom, who is the principal of a high school in Iowa and is inexplicably being played by Jane Seymour. Maddie asks her how she's doing and her mom launches into a story about toilet paper, so Maddie tells her to shut up because she's attending this event for work purposes and she's only just arrived. Maddie's mom, clearly aware that this event was taking place, scolds her for her bad time management. Why did she fucking call her then??!

Maddie's mom asks her if she's told Paul Kennedy how she feels about him yet, which is an absurd question to call your daughter about when she is attending a work event. Maddie tells her mom that she hasn't even told her closest friends about her romantic feelings for Paul Kennedy, and asks her to keep her secret. Maddie's mom, her accent veering wildly between possibly English and possibly American, is all, "nobody in Des Moines gives a shit about your feelings, bitch," but Maddie doesn't care about the people of Des Moines because Paul Kennedy wants to speak to her later and she's sure that he's about to make a love confession of his own. She ends the call and immediately runs into her friends, Emma Who Works in Fashion and Heather Who Did the Cover Art for Paul Kennedy's Book. Emma Who Works in Fashion gets all hot and bothered at the sight of Paul Kennedy's smouldering Irish face on the back cover of his novel while Heather Who Did the Cover Art for Paul Kennedy's Book reminds everyone that Maddie basically wrote the book for him, which I guess makes Maddie a ghostwriter/editor hybrid. Either way, Paul Kennedy didn't do shit.

Maddie meets Paul Kennedy in the hotel bar and they talk about how they make such a great team, what with her doing all of the work and him wearing the shit out of plaid suits. Paul Kennedy takes her by the hand to ask if she wants to take their relationship to the next level and Maddie practically starts foaming at the mouth in her haste to say yes. But alas! Paul Kennedy wants her to work with him on his next novel, and by "work with him," I mean conceptualise and write the thing for him so that he can devote his time to shopping for even more plaid suits. Paul Kennedy knows that Maddie wants to write her own book, but his book is far more important so he wants her to put her own ambitions to one side for now. What a shitty guy that Paul Kennedy is!

Maddie agrees to Paul Kennedy's insane request because I guess she has no self-respect and he leaves her to drown her sorrows. Meanwhile, Emma Who Works in Fashion is racing to the bathroom because one of her false eyelashes has become displaced and Heather Who Did the Cover Art for Paul Kennedy's Book is unable to help her fix it. They run into Paul Kennedy, who immediately pushes the eyelash back into place with his finger because apparently that didn't occur to either of them to do themselves.

Emma Who Works in Fashion tells Paul Kennedy that she works in fashion and they immediately fall in love at first sight.

Later, Paul Kennedy reads an excerpt from his best selling novel, Two Irish Hearts, while Maddie and Emma Who Works in Fashion watch him from the bar, their bosoms heaving lustily in unison. They all have a drink together afterwards, and the upshot is that Emma Who Works in Fashion leaves the event in raptures over her and Paul Kennedy's instant connection while Maddie gnashes her teeth with barely-concealed jealousy. They barely avoid a fatal traffic collision and suddenly it's three months and one Aer Lingus advertisement later.

Maddie arrives in Ireland, specifically Knock Airport, for the wedding of Paul Kennedy and Emma Who Works in Fashion. Paul Kennedy is dressed in a ridiculous outfit that would absolutely earn him a savage bollocking from the locals were he to wear it anywhere in his purported home country. Don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about. We've all seen that viral Twitter thread.

Maddie is waiting for her luggage to come through baggage claim and her friends, unwilling to wait the extra twenty seconds it would have taken for her to grab her suitcase, immediately leave her to her own devices. She chases her suitcase along the luggage carousel and runs into Ed Speleers, who is also making a play for the suitcase. A tug of war ensues and the suitcase bursts open. Maddie triumphantly waves Ed Speleers' plaid boxers in the air before realising that she's not holding her favourite plaid skirt. There's so much plaid in this fucking movie. Lindsay Lohan is wearing a plaid jacket and I'm pretty sure Ed Speleers is wearing a plaid shirt with a matching colour scheme beneath his jacket and cardigan.

Anyway, Ed Speleers is all "you clumsy oaf" and gets outta there without bothering to close his case properly. I wonder if we'll see him again.

Alas, Maddie's bag has been lost by the airline, which kind of undercuts the earlier Aer Lingus advertisement. She tells Paul Kennedy to take her friends and leave, and that she'll follow them in a taxi. No taxis are available, however, so Maddie is forced to get on a rickety old bus that looks like it was found by a bunch of Irish stereotype-hungry scouts who came upon it and collectively jizzed in their pants.

Maddie hops on without paying and asks the driver to take her to a specific address, which he happily agrees to do because fuck bus routes, and fuck the other passengers who also have places to be. Just as the bus is about to leave, Ed Speleers jumps on, greets the bus driver by his first name and sits down, also without paying. Why is this bus driver so willing to take people wherever they need to go without collecting a fare? How is the bus company running with no profits?! Ed Speleers and Maddie have a brief exchange wherein Ed Speleers cheekily mentions his boxers and Maddie anxiously adjusts her jacket to hide her lustily heaving bosom, and the bus moves off, possibly in search of a passenger who is willing to pay for the privilege of riding it.

It doesn't take long before Maddie and Ed Speleers get to talking. Maddie learns that Ed Speleers is a nature photographer who smiles a lot in a disarmingly handsome way that I am not ashamed to admit I found very stirring. It also helps that he speaks in his native accent, which the majority of the characters in this movie seem completely unable to do. Maddie's copy of Two Irish Hearts falls out of her purse and Ed Speleers sees it and laughs about how shit of an author Paul Kennedy is whilst making it clear that he hasn't read the specific book that Maddie wrote for him. There is a short exchange about the UK that absolutely backs up my theory that the makers of this movie mistakenly believe that Ireland is part of the UK, which I'm disappointed about, but not remotely surprised.

Anyway, the magically altruistic bus drops Maddie directly off at Paul Kennedy's house in County Wicklow. I know it's in Wicklow because Paul Kennedy lives near Lough Tay. Which is in Wicklow. Thus marks the first of many times that a character in this movie travels from one side of the country to the other in roughly fifteen minutes.

Anyway, Maddie enters the grounds of Kennedy House and immediately happens upon a man who is carrying wood and who I could immediately tell was played by an Irish actor because all Irish men have one of roughly ten generic faces. That's a very true observation and not a joke at all. The fact that people think Niall Horan and Paul Mescal are in any way unique looking is hilarious. You'll find at least a dozen of either in Copper Face Jacks on any given night. A dozen at least. Cillian Murphy is the only outlier.

The genuine Irish man introduces himself as Paul's brother, Kory, which is a name that no Irish person would ever give to their child, and thus, Maddie is welcomed into Kennedy House.

Aaaaaaand that's it for Part 1! What on earth will happen next?!

[francesminos-tt]

I think we don’t have enough lucemond hp au, so here is my contribution.

Professor Velaryon is well liked by most of the Hogwarts population, students, faculties, even house elves. The only one who falls out of this category is Professor Targaryen, potion master, consultant of the Duel Club and head of the Slytherin House, which is not all that surprising because Professor Targaryen just doesn’t like people, period.

Professor Velaryon, or Luke, as he insists to be called, was the star seeker of Dragonstone United. He has three championships under his belt before he retired at the young age of 26. He has been teaching flying lessons in Hogwarts for just over a year. Hufflepuff is thrilled to learn he will couch the quidditch house team for the coming school year. We have Lucy! Hufflepuff captain exclaimed, Let’s beat them losers. He was caught by Professor Targaryen while swearing, and 5 points were taken from Hufflepuff.

Professor Targaryen (he doesn’t accept to be called otherwise despite there are at least 3 Targaryens in school), or Aemond (only Luke is allowed to call him that), is the youngest house head in a century. He only has one eye due to a tragic incident in his final year at Hogwarts that no one is allowed to speak of. He is able to spot me sneaking chopped beetles into that Gryffindor’s cauldron with only one eye. Who knows what he is capable of with both eyes. Reported an anonymous source.

Hufflepuff and Slytherin are not nemesis, no, but Luke and Professor Targaryen seems to be. They sit at the opposite side of the faculty table at meal times. No one dares to engage them in one conversation. They either want to kill each other, or fuck, commented by a Ravenclaw in her fifth year, current chief editor in the most popular school magazine, the gossiper.

Lucerys strides to the quidditch field, broom in hand. He is a little nervous about his first coaching session, but a certain someone assures that he will be just fine. Hufflepuff has booked the field from 6 PM, so Lucerys is not surprised to see his team gathered around the field. What surprises him is that several Slytherin players are also there, cornering a dark-haired boy in Gryffindor uniform

“What happened?” Lucerys asks his team captain.

“Apparently that boy tried to spy on the Slytherin strategy. As if they have enough brain capacity to actually use strategy.” The captain replies.

The boy is a first year, and Lucerys knows him. God. He hates Slytherins sometimes.

“OK, gentlemen, break it off.” Lucerys inserts himself between the group, shielding the boy from the snarling Slytherins.

“Playing favor here, Professor Luke?” One of the Slytherin beaters, a bulky seventh year boy says sarcastically. “Maybe you should ask why he spied on us.”

“I didn’t spy on you!” The boy shouts. He tries to stand up to three teenagers despite his small size. He reminds Lucerys of his own younger brother Joffrey.

“Yeah, you keep saying that, Stark. Didn’t your muggle dad teach you how to be respectful?”

Rickon Stark looks like he’s about to pounce and rip that Slytherin’s face.

“Stand down, Rickon.” Lucerys says, but his gaze is on the Slytherins.

“Yes, stand down, mudblood.” The Slytherin beater sneers. His lackeys bark out a laugh.

Lucerys pinches his nose, trying hard to stay calm.

“You crossed a line here, gentleman. I won’t tolerant such behavior.” Lucerys says with incredible authority, “Come with me. Let’s see what your house head will say about this.”

The Slytherin boys noticeably flinch from Luke’s serious demeanor.

“And you, Mr. Stark, don’t think I didn’t see the broom you hide under the stand. First-years are not allowed to fly by their own. Put that broom back immediately before I write to your parents. Believe me, you don’t want to get a Howler two weeks in the new semester.”

“Sorry! It won’t happen again!” Rickon Stark pales and runs at top speed before retrieving said broom that no one noticed, “Please don’t write to Jace!”

 Aemond is about to finish the wolfsbane potion when the door to his personal dungeon opens. Lucerys matches in, followed by three Slytherin boys on the quidditch team.

“To what do I owe the honor, Professor Velaryon?” Aemond says, continuing to stir the cauldron. He’s the only one who calls Lucerys that.

“Your boys called someone mudblood today, Aemond.” Lucerys replies, throwing those boys a dark look.

Aemond’s hand pauses for a second before resuming stirring. The boys duck their heads, not dare to meet their house head’s eye.

“That is inappropriate, I reckon.” Aemond throws in finely grinded snake skin and give the potion a final stir.

“Inappropriate? It’s a serious offense!” Lucerys stomps to the work table, stopping just inches before Aemond. He leans in, ignoring the acrid smell that stings his eyes.

“Let me finish this, Lucerys.” Aemond doesn’t seem to mind the proximity, which is odd because Professor Targaryen is allergic to human being.

Lucerys wrinkles his nose, but says nothing. He doesn’t step back either. 10 minutes later, the potion finally turns to the right color.

“Well?”

Aemond lets out a small chuckle before pats Lucerys on the head. The Slytherins gasp as if they just witnessed hell. There is no way, no way at all, that Professor Targaryen is capable of that fond expression.

“You three will serve detention for two months. And you won’t be attending the house cup match this weekend.” Aemond says in his usual soft but menacing tone.

“But we have to- We need to defeat these Gryffindor scums! “

“And the match next week. One more word and you will be expelled from the team. Don’t test me.” Aemond begins to fill the vials with wolfsbane potion.

“Professor, we know you don’t understand quidditch but- “

Lucerys breaks out laughing. He laughs so hard that his stomach hurts. This is easily the most hilarious thing he hears so far. Aemond? Not understanding quidditch?

Aemond huffs while running a hand down Lucerys’s back.

“Oh, you Slytherins. If only you look at your house medals.” Lucerys finally manages to speak.

The three unfortunate boys do get a look at Slytherin house medal in the end as they spend all their detention time polishing said medal which reads, Aemond Targaryen, Most Valuable Player in House Cup. There are four of them.