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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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Lost & Found - 8

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 3.7k

a/n: Happy Wednesday! I hope your week is going well so far, enjoy this update! Let me know your thoughts!

Chapter 8. Face Yourself

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“You know, I kind of expected to see you again.” Christina leads me into her home, waiting for me to remove my shoes before walking further into the house. It has an industrial look to it, giving off a generally cold feeling. Something about it though makes the house feel warm.

It’s probably Christina. Despite not being overjoyed to see me, she still emits a friendly aura. That is, until Elle decides to hop out and snoop about.

“Er…” Christina rubs her nose harshly, eyeing my cat. “I’m actually pretty allergic to cats…”

I launch into action, scooping Elle up in my arms even though she protests with a pitiful hiss. “I’m so sorry, if I’d have known-”

“It’s not your fault,” Christina replies, gesturing toward a familiar gray door. “Are you alright with leaving your cat in the warehouse while we chat?”

Nodding, I walk over and pry the door open. A blast of cool air hits me, taking my breath away and resulting in a sigh of long-suffering from Elle. Christina reaches into the warehouse, flicking on the light and the heat.

“Would your cat like...um...a bowl of milk? To sip on while she waits?”

I can’t help but smile at Christina’s offer. Glancing down at Elle, I watch the way her tail flicks back and forth as she wanders about the warehouse. “That would be great, actually.”

Once Elle has been taken care of and Christina has moved us to her kitchen, I allow myself to recall the events of a couple weeks ago. I’m passed a mug of apple cider, heart aching at the similarities from before.

Christina offers me a seat on one of the stools, standing on the opposite side of the island. She takes a long sip of the cider, a faraway look in her eyes. I wonder if she’s remembering the last time we shared a drink together.

When I told her who my soulmate was, and she suddenly became very, very quiet.

“So what brings you back here?” Christina asks, finally breaking the memory-laden silence. I look at the mug in my hands for a long moment, collecting my thoughts.

“I…” my vision clouds over for a moment, and I take a deep breath. Once the tears have receded, I try again. “I’ve been told to come to terms with my actions. With all that I’ve done wrong.”

“To make it right?” Christina asks, her expression betraying nothing of her innermost thoughts. “Because like I said, I don’t do refunds. Can’t, actually.”

I finally look up at Christina, really looking at her for the first time.

Her hair is dark and thick, falling below her ribcage. It’s long. Today it’s down, lightly curled.

It makes her look soft. Normal.

So at odds with her choice in profession.

“No,” I respond. “No, not that. I’ve been instructed to...to forgive myself…?”

Christina blinks, resting her elbows against the countertop. “You don’t sound very convinced.”

“That’s probably because I’m not.”

Nodding along, Christina looks down at her hands. She begins to trace the lines in her palms, allowing herself a moment to think. After a few heartbeats, she looks back up at me. “It sounds like you’re seeing someone about this,” she points to my left hand that I have wrapped around the mug. The cut thread hangs there, barely touching the top of the island.

“I am.”

“A trained professional?”

“Yes.”

She lets out what appears to be a sigh of relief. “Good.” Flicking her hair over her shoulder - how did I never notice how long her hair is? - she furrows her brows ever so slightly. “So...why are you here? Not that I want you to leave, I’m just a little confused. Isn’t this place...aren’t I a part of your problem?”

I blink, letting her words sink in. “Christina, you’re not a problem to be fixed.”

An indescribable emotion flickers across her face, but it’s gone before I can put a name to it. Instead she straightens up, moving to put the apple cider back in the fridge. “Then explain to me just what you plan to do here today.”

With her back turned to me I have no idea what she’s thinking or if I’ve already overstepped my bounds, but I venture on. “Well...I don’t really get it. You know, the forgiving part. I’ve heard about it a lot, sure. I guess I just don’t have a lot of practice in it, though.” Christina turns back around, resuming her spot across the island from me. “And it just seemed to me like maybe you do, I guess.”

She’s back to tracing her palm now, absorbing my request. Slowly, she tilts her head to one side, looking at me with unadulterated curiosity. “You want me to teach you how to forgive yourself?”

I nod hesitantly, hoping it’s the right answer. Christina scoffs, a challenge in her eyes.

“How can I teach you about forgiveness when it’s clear you don’t want to forgive yourself?”

“W-what-”

“You want me to explain it to you step by step? It isn’t something that you can just check off of a to-do list, Jolie. I need you to understand that.” Christina rises up to her full height, running her hands through her hair. “You can’t just move through the motions and hold yourself up to the list of qualifications for forgiveness and hope you make it. Because you won’t. Every single time, you will fall short. We all do. And it really sucks, but it’s true. How do you think people find it in them to forgive themselves when they’re completely aware of just how much they’re lacking?”

My heart hammers, the truthfulness in her words pounding into me like an anvil. At a loss, my mouth simply opens and closes like a fish. She sees my dilemma, raising her eyebrows.

“Because they care.” Christina lets out a deep breath, her eyes never leaving my face. I feel absolutely naked before her, all of my flaws laid out like a buffet. It’s impossible for me to move, to run away, though. I can hardly breathe as is. She continues on, a fire in her eyes.

“They care enough about themselves to know that even though they will never meet the expectations laid out for them, they deserve to be forgiven.” Christina’s voice comes out thick with emotion, unshed tears welling up in her eyes. “And that is what you lack, Jolie. You want to suffer. You want to use the pain that’s building up inside of you as some sort of way to atone for what you’ve done. But it doesn’t work like that.”

Sitting there at Christina’s kitchen island, the words hanging in the air above me, I can’t find it in me to lie. Not when this woman stands before me, battle-worn from life and still fighting, would know in an instant.

I can’t lie to myself anymore.

Eyes falling to my mug of apple cider, I see myself reflected in its murky contents. My own pitiful, broken self staring back at me.

“I’m so tired of lying to myself,” I whisper. I hardly notice Christina coming around the island and taking up a spot beside me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

When I finally find it in me to look at her, I see nothing but calm understanding.

Like she knows. Like she’s been here before, in some capacity. Judging from the severed thread she sports, chances are she knows exactly what sort of heart-wrenching pain is wracking my soul right now.

With a soft, heart-broken smile, Christina whispers back, “Then start with the truth.”

✂

“Honestly, she’s a fool for not texting you back. That last text you sent was gold.” Jin stares at an unopened box of churros, rubbing his belly before leaning forward to pry it open. “Pure gold, I tell you.”

“Yeah,” Jimin cringes as he watches Jin take a bite of the churro. They’ve eaten to the point of stomach-aches. “That’s because you wrote it.”

“Exactly.”

Jimin’s cell phone sits in the middle of the table, under constant surveillance by the seven boys. An hour has passed since he sent off the last text to Jolie; a quip about how Elle must have taken pity on him.

When he hadn’t received a message within the first two minutes, he’d wanted to send something else. Taehyung had stopped him, ordering him to eat and breathe for a few minutes. What had begun as a temporary distraction had now dragged on for far too long, in Jimin’s opinion.

With dread in his stomach, he asks, “What if she’s freaked out about texting a guy so soon after everything? She’s probably not in a place to even think about talking with other guys. Do you think she’s ghosting me?”

This makes even Jin pause in his act of gorging himself, swallowing harshly and launching himself into a coughing fit. Jungkook slaps him on the back, frowning.

“No…” the maknae protests weakly. “She wouldn’t ghost you...would she?”

“Well, she doesn’t really have the best track record when it comes to me,” Jimin jokes, the attempt falling flat as everyone sullenly agrees.

Sighing, Taehyung grabs Jimin’s phone and extends it to him. “What are you gonna say?”

Unlocking his phone, Jimin sighs heavily. “Erm...apologize for the lame joke?”

“Hey!” Jin feigns offense, taking an angry bite of his churro.

“Good move,” Taehyung whispers. Jimin chuckles, pulling up the text conversation. Once he types out the message, he shows it to his members. They all agree, although Jin does so a little sulkily.

“Ok and...sent.”

Me: Sorry for the dumb joke...I guess it wasn’t as funny as I initially thought 😅

Jimin sets the phone back down on the edge of the table, struggling to stomp down on the hope growing in his chest. No matter what he does, he can’t stop seeing Jolie in his mind. The way she smiled at Elle, hauling her groceries up to her apartment.

How can his soulmate live so close to him and yet still be so far away?

Namjoon groans as he sits up, looking at an email he just received on his phone. Hobi frowns, reading over his shoulder.

“What is it?” Jimin asks. Namjoon and Hobi share a look before seemingly coming to an agreement.

“It’s just another message from Bang PD,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing his face. “Fans are still...freaking out about everything.”

Jimin blinks, having almost forgotten about the outside world for a moment. “What are they doing?”

“They’re just convinced that Bighit is hiding your soulmate, trying to control the situation. Some of them are fine with it, but there’s a significant amount that are offended.”

“Mainly offended because they think that you don’t trust them enough to still show up to our events,” Yoongi clarifies, giving the younger boy an apologetic smile. Jimin’s eyes become glazed over, mind running rampant with what people must be saying about him.

Hobi jumps in, hating to see that look on Jimin’s face. “But we’re taking the ‘no comment’ route, remember? So they’ll just have to sit tight until you’re ready to come back.”

It’s quiet for a moment before Namjoon speaks again. “Bang PD is just a little worried about our upcoming muster. You know, about fan’s reactions when you aren’t there and-”

“I’ll come.”

Everyone looks to Jimin in pure shock, Taehyung immediately jumping in. “No, it’ll be fine Jiminie, really. You don’t need to come. It’s only been two weeks, take more time.”

Jimin hardly even blinks. “And the muster is in...what, five days? That’s about three weeks of a break for me. I can’t just sit around like this anymore, you guys. I’m losing it.”

Jungkook speaks up from where he’d been quietly sitting beside Jin. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean you need to jump back into full concert mode. That’s too much to ask of yourself.”

Everyone seems inclined to agree, already nodding their heads. Jimin sees his window of opportunity closing, and takes a shot before it’s gone.

“One song.” Jimin scoots onto the edge of the sofa, running a hand through his hair. “Just let me do one song with you guys. Enough to let everyone see me, that I’m alright. That they don’t need to...worry about me hiding a soulmate from them.”

“I don’t know, Jimin…” Namjoon begins, twirling his phone in his hands. “It’s probably going to be really intense, and once you get out there you can never go back to the peace you’ve got right now. People will be practically knocking down our door to get answers.”

“I know. Just...I want to see them.” Glancing down at his phone which still hasn’t received a text back, Jimin sighs. “Just one song. I can’t hide forever. And I don’t think I want to.”

Namjoon begrudgingly agrees to bring it up with Bang PD, not promising anything. Either way, Jimin lets out a sigh of relief at the thought of possibly getting to perform soon. Despite the certain problems that are bound to follow, at least he can hold a mic again. See Army.

He’s not completely sure if it’s the right time, but it feels like the right step. Staring at his phone and praying for it to light up with a message from his soulmate, Jimin voices his thoughts aloud.

“I think she needs to know that she hasn’t wrecked my life beyond repair, you know?” Reaching forward, he flips his phone so he can no longer see the screen. “I can live with the pain.”

✂

“Just because you can survive the pain doesn’t mean you should consign yourself to a life full of it.”

Christina is on her second mug of apple cider, the smell of blueberry muffins permeating the air in the living room. We moved here to a little while ago, Christina deeming this conversation worthy of her comfy couches.

I nod along with wide eyes, almost wishing that I had a notebook with me. The way that Christina speaks to me makes me want to write down every word.

Pure honesty. That’s what it is.

“Can I ask what made you get into this business?” I ask, suddenly needing to know more about what made Christina the way that she is.

A dark cloud intercepts Christina’s kind gaze, and she chews on the inside of her cheek for a moment. “I...it’s a long story.”

“Do I look like I have a life?” My comment earns me a sharp chuckle from Christina, who gets into a more comfortable position on the couch. The grays and white undertones of the room makes the small fire in the fireplace pop out all the more.

“Good point. Either way, I’m not a very big fan of going into too much detail where my story is concerned.” Setting her mug down on the coffee table, she takes a deep breath in before letting it out. “Long story short...I met my soulmate. Fell in love with him, actually.”

My eyes instinctively fall to her cut thread, my stomach knotting up with whatever dreadful fact is coming next.

“What I considered to be a pure, beautiful relationship turned into something like Stockholm Syndrome. My soulmate he...he believed that I was his, and only his. He slowly cut off all communication with my family, my friends. At first I didn’t notice what he was doing, but when I came to my senses...let’s just say I did everything in my power to get out.”

I remain frozen in my seat, heart nearly stopping. “Christina, that’s horrible.”

“It was. But the moral of the story is that I got out. I got help. And in turn, I help others the only way I know how.” She glances down at my left hand, something like regret lingering there in her eyes. “I don’t usually ask my clients any questions. I know when I was running and trying to cut my thread, the last thing I wanted was to bring up my history. However, with you...I wish I would’ve asked.”

It stings, but it makes sense. I fidget a little in my seat, twirling my thread around my finger. “Would you have turned me away if you knew the truth?”

Christina sits quietly for a moment, chewing on the question. “I definitely would have tried to get you to think it through a bit more. Maybe I would have turned you away, I don’t know. If I’d have known that Park Jimin was on the other end of that string....I don’t know if I would have been able to stomach doing that to him.”

I nod. It would appear that in my desperation, I’d forgotten that my decisions would harm more people than just those directly connected to the thread around my finger.

“I’m assuming you’re a fan?” I ask a little drily. Like flicking on a switch, Christina’s eyes light up.

“Oh, absolutely. But especially of Jimin.” I feel my eyebrows arch, a fresh wave of guilt sluicing through me. Christina doesn’t begin to curse me, though. “You know his song ‘Promise’? On those days after I’d cut the thread and felt my will slipping, like I might go back to my soulmate after everything he’d done to me...I’d listen to that song. I’d promise myself over and over again that I wouldn’t throw it all away. I guess you could say that, in a way, he saved me.”

The fire pops and hisses in the fireplace, filling the temporary silence. Christina grabs her mug, taking another sip before realizing that it’s empty. She gets up, excusing herself while she goes to the kitchen to get some more cider.

Alone in the small living room, I stare at that fire while different thoughts vie for my attention. Watching the flames, I stumble upon another truth. One that blasts a door open on my understanding of the past two weeks. Of what drove me here, to Christina’s, on that fateful night. Thread in tow, begging for it to be cut.

Jimin creates. He creates beautiful opportunities for people, second chances for people like Christina who so desperately needed one. He’s there, for people he’s never met and never will meet, cheering them on in their endeavors.

And me? I destroy. I’ve always seen that in myself. So when I saw Jimin up on stage that night, completely entranced by him as he bounced around and danced and smiled, I knew that there was a stark difference between us. I could admire that difference, from a distance.

Yet when I saw the way my string followed his ever so slightly...as my eyes traced the thread between us, coming to the same conclusion every time that it was Park Jimin who was on the other side, I believed it to be a mistake.

How could I be paired with someone so good? How could a devil be tied to an angel?

And yet...Christina reenters the room, smiling warmly at me as though I wasn’t the one that made her unknowingly cause harm to one of her idols. It’s Christina, who sits across from me with her third cup of apple cider, that makes me realize that perhaps fate was right all along.

Christina destroys bonds for a living. She destroys seemingly unbreakable bonds, for a price. And what is supposed to be the most horrifying profession of all, comes from a place of sympathy. Of charity.

Perhaps destruction clears the path for creation.

Maybe, just maybe, Park Jimin and I are a perfect match.

✂

The moon has risen by the time Jimin gets a reply. He’s just fallen onto his bed, his hair still wet from his shower, when his phone vibrates.

He nearly rolls off of his bed and onto the floor in an attempt to retrieve his phone, but he manages to stay upright. His heart launches into a frenzy at the sight of Jolie’s name on his phone, and immediately he’s back to replaying the scene of her in his head.

Jolie (Elle): Sorry, I was visiting a friend and lost track of time. And yes, the joke was lame. I’m glad that you can admit it 😂

Jimin chuckles, making a mental note to tell Jin that his joke really was lame. He stares at the screen for a moment longer, struggling to come up with something to reply. Before he can write anything, however, three dots pop up as Jolie types something in.

He stares and stares at those three dots, sucking on his bottom lip. When the text comes through, he lets out a shout of triumph.

Jolie (Elle): Also, I think that Elle misses you. Either that or she’s mad at me for ignoring her

Taking a deep breath, Jimin types out a reply. He rereads it a couple of times before giving in and hitting send.

Me: I’m sure she does. How dare you ignore her? Don’t you know that she’s royalty?

Jolie (Elle): Oh no.

Jolie (Elle): She’s got you wrapped around her finger.

Me: I think you meant paw 😼

Jolie (Elle): This entire conversation is ridiculous, I hope you know that 😂

Huffing out a laugh, Jimin brings his pillow to his chest. Oh, he’s aware of the ridiculous nature of the conversation. But if it’s the only way he can communicate with his soulmate, then so be it.

Me: I’m aware, don’t worry. I’d better let you get some rest. Give Elle some cuddles for me, will you?

A part of him hopes that Jolie will protest, insisting that they talk for longer. However, he gets the next best thing.

A photo of Elle, sitting at the end of a bed and looking at the camera like she’s posing for a portrait. Jolie sends a message a heartbeat later.

Jolie (Elle): She won’t let me touch her right now...she’s still angry 😂 but when she forgives me, I’ll be sure to tell her that the cuddles are from you.

Jolie (Elle): Goodnight!

“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” Jimin whispers to himself in an attempt to calm his beating heart. He stares at the photo for a moment longer, taking in as much detail as he possibly can. Jolie isn’t in it, but the outline of her legs under the blanket are enough to remind Jimin that this is real. It’s all real.

And he’ll talk to her tomorrow.

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theycallmegothboy · 4 years ago

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1-100 >:DDDD REVENGE!!!

FELIXXXXXXXXXXXX >:(( 1. Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora? -spotify 2. is your room messy or clean? -it’s pretty messy i guess 3. what color are your eyes? -blue and grey

4. do you like your name? why? -yeah it’s fine 5. what is your relationship status? -single 6. describe your personality in 3 words or less -certified intrusive thot 7. what color hair do you have? -brown and rn it’s red 8. what kind of car do you drive? color? -i dont have a car 9. where do you shop? -hot topic, goodwill, target 10. how would you describe your style? -comfy emo 11. favorite social media account -of mine, probably discord or youtube 12. what size bed do you have? -twin >:(( 13. any siblings? -i have 1.5 brothers 14. if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why? -probably vancouver, idk canada seems lit 15. favorite snapchat filter? -i like the one with devil horns and a tail but its cute 16. favorite makeup brand(s) -i dont wear makeup 17. how many times a week do you shower? -i used to shower every day, but i dont do anything that gets me dirty so like maybe 3 times but if i leave the house then i shower 18. favorite tv show? -stranger things 19. shoe size? -8 or 9 20. how tall are you? -5′6 with shoes >:(( 21. sandals or sneakers? -sneakers wtf 22. do you go to the gym? -lol no 23. describe your dream date -making some pie or something together and then eating the pie and then sitting on some rooftop looking at stars 24. how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment? -quite a bit actually but i’m saving up for a phone lol so soon it will be like maybe 10 dollars lmao 25. what color socks are you wearing? -not wearing socks but the ones i had earlier were white (ankle length) 26. how many pillows do you sleep with? -just one but it sucks 27. do you have a job? what do you do? -NO BUT IM TRYING TO GET A JOB BUT THE FUCKIN PEOPLE THERE ARE GHOSTING ME AND WONT REPLY TO MY EMAILS SO LIKE SBJHBJS 28. how many friends do you have? -like 4 lmao 29. whats the worst thing you have ever done? -idk nothing super bad but i do a lot of small shit that makes me feel guilty when i realize what i did 30. whats your favorite candle scent? -juniper rosewood 31. 3 favorite boy names -leo, clay, charlie 32. 3 favorite girl names -ivy, uh... idk thats all ive got 33. favorite actor? -no clue 34. favorite actress? -no clue 35. who is your celebrity crush? -not a celeb but i’d smash danny phantom 36. favorite movie? -nightmare before christmas or edward scissorhands 37. do you read a lot? whats your favorite book? -no, but my fav book is probably the prince and the pauper? idk 38. money or brains? -CASH MONEYYYY jk probably brains but if your entire personality is being “smart” like fuck off lmao 39. do you have a nickname? what is it? - a bunch of people call me son (see #49, #100), some call me rat, dumdum, goth boy

40.how many times have you been to the hospital? -just once i think when i was birthed. i also went once with my brother cause he kicked some scissors i left out on the floor and it sliced his toe the fuck open and he needed stitches and i watched him get the stitches and almost passed out :/ 41. top 10 favorite songs -please dont make me do this i dont have it in me 42. do you take any medications daily? -yea i take 20mg of vyvanse but i need to get it raised to 30 cause 20 is Not Enough 43. what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc) -i got some dry fuckin skin yall dont even know 44. what is your biggest fear? -it depends. the dark is a pretty constant one though 45. how many kids do you want? -like 2 or 3 eventually 46. whats your go to hair style? -in my face, looking stupid 47. what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc) -it’s pretty small 48. who is your role model? -i dont fuckin know lmao 49. what was the last compliment you received? - “i belive in you, my son, you’re an amazing human being“ (same friend mentioned in #100, not actually a parent of mine) 50. what was the last text you sent? -”no it’s a raccoon“ YOU GET NO CONTEXT LMAO 51. how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real? -i dont think i ever hardcore believed in him, maybe i did though i remember sleeping under the tree one christmas eve waiting for him but i was like “oh yeah that makes sense“ i guess 52. what is your dream car? -i honestly dont give a shit as long as it actually fucking works 53. opinion on smoking? -cigarettes? fuck no that’s nastyyy. weed? that’s fine i guess but wait till you’re like 18. 54. do you go to college? -no. am sophomore n highschool 55. what is your dream job? -musician/palentologist 56. would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs? -fuck the suburbs lmao, but also im tired of rural, so like.. semi urban?? 57. do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels? -no but i take the little soaps >:)) 58. do you have freckles? -yes 59. do you smile for pictures? -awkwardly, yes 60. how many pictures do you have on your phone? -dont have a phone but i have like 12 on my computer currently. 4 are of me, the rest are of my cat or random shit 61. have you ever peed in the woods? -yes 62. do you still watch cartoons? -cartoons these days kinda suck but like if they were good fuck yeah i would like gravity falls can come hang yknow? 63. do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds? -i had nuggets from mcdonalds today so i guess them? i dont really care 64. Favorite dipping sauce? -i got sweet and sour but i dont like it that much. that schezuan sauce was great 65. what do you wear to bed? -wouldnt you like to know? ;)) 66. have you ever won a spelling bee? -NO ive only been in two. the first one i misspelled the word “turmoil“ cause i had never heard it before and the second one i spelled the word “owed“ as “ode“ cause i was thinking like ode to joy and then i felt like a big Fool afterwards :(( 67. what are your hobbies? -lol what hobbies 68. can you draw? -i am physically able to draw, but not well, no 69 (haha). do you play an instrument? -yeah i play a few 70. what was the last concert you saw? -i saw Chicago in either georgia or tennessee i cant remember in like 2016 71. tea or coffee? -hot coffee, iced tea. NOT the other way around. (i love both though) 72. Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts? -starbucks 73. do you want to get married? -sure why not 74. what is your crush’s first and last initial? -dont have a crush 75. are you going to change your last name when you get married? -idk maybe 76. what color looks best on you? -i dont know but i wear black a lot and that’s pretty dope 77. do you miss anyone right now? -yeah 78. do you sleep with your door open or closed? -closed 79. do you believe in ghosts? -on the fence. not 100% “oh my god look at these gHoSt oRbS i need to sage my house!!!“ but i accept that there’s some things i wont understand about the world and that i have no answers to. i wouldnt be surprised if there are, and i wouldnt be surprised if there aren’t. 80. what is your biggest pet peeve? -whatever my adhd decides i viscerally hate with a firey passion right at that moment 81. last person you called -my brother (the 1 of the 1.5 from #13 and the one who sliced his toe in #40) 82. favorite ice cream flavor? -chocolate is dope 83. regular oreos or golden oreos? -regular double stuff. if you say golden, mint, peppermint, or thin oreos i’m gonna have to euthanize you, i dont make the rules. 84. chocolate or rainbow sprinkles? -rainbow cause it’s prettier 85. what shirt are you wearing? -queen shirt from hot topic 86. what is your phone background? -i didnt get a phone between question 60 and now but my computer one is some mountains with the moon in the background 87. are you outgoing or shy? -really depends on who i’m around 88. do you like it when people play with your hair? -YES FUCK AAAAAAA (this girl played with my hair literally once in middle school and i was like oh shit and i had a crush on her until the end of middle school true story,,, so ashley if you’re out there-) 89. do you like your neighbors? -to the left they’re fine and their dog is nice but idk what happened to the horses so that’s sus but that’s where our cat came from so they can hang guess, behind me they’re fine but their boys are loud, to the right they’re fine, and even further to the right are the dope neighbors and waaaaaaaaaay far to the right is a llama and he’s dope as hell 90. do you wash your face? at night? in the morning? -whenever the fuck i remember to/have the energy 91. have you ever been high? -i dont think so but i wouldnt put it past myself 92. have you ever been drunk? -not that i can remember, no 93. last thing you ate? -sloppy joe from a can 94. favorite lyrics right now -”not gonna waste my life, cause i’ve been fucked up“ 95. summer or winter? -fall. fuck you 96. day or night? -night but i like it when it’s actually night and it doesnt get dark at like 4 fucking pm cause that makes me depressed 97. dark, milk, or white chocolate? -dark is good, milk is fine, white is only suitable for fancy stripes on chocolate covered strawberries 98. favorite month? -i vibe with september 99. what is your zodiac sign -sagittarius (was almost a scorpio but i was holding out >:))) 100. who was the last person you cried in front of? -in person, my mom like 6 months ago, on a discord call, my friend (i love you by the way, you’re the best,,, i dont think he has tumblr but im just putting it out there) like a month or so ago. i hate crying in front of people, i turn into such a hyperventilating snot monster which is not suitable for human gaze and thats the real tea :/

felix this took like 2 hours of my life i will never get back i hate you and i hope you’re happy with what you’ve done <3 <3

also anyone who wants to stalk me, enjoy this information that im handing to you on a silver platter :)) <3

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slashhinginghasher · 5 years ago

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Midnight Star - Chromeskull x OFC - Part 4: Half A Ghost

Summary: When things don’t go to plan, you change the plan.

AKA a nice helping of backstory with a side order of Jesse being a horny freak.

This story is on Ao3!

None of this was going the way he’d planned.

Granted, the plan was fairly light on details - most of which revolved around turning the bitch into a human Picasso - but it was still a plan, god damn it, and none of those details involved him sulking in his office and pretending the ache in his balls was just from her well-placed kick (lucky hit) and not the lingering taste of her blood in his mouth. For someone who was all skin and bones, she was surprisingly strong. Put a little meat on her and she’d probably be a tiny terror. And despite how scrawny she was, he had to admit she’d looked positively fucking edible like that, all pink-flushed and trembling (even if it was just heatstroke). Small wonder he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her--

Fuck.

There were already rumors floating around the organization that he was going soft, thanks to that cocksucker Preston. Some quick knife work had easily convinced the man to drop the subject, but whispers had a way of... lingering. The organization was still recovering from the Miami debacle a couple years back. It had taken more money than he’d liked to make that particular police investigation disappear.. Between the amnesiac hooker melting his face off and Veronica blowing her brains out in FBI custody, the last thing he needed was to be seen slavering over yet another piggy like a horny teenager.

Fucking Veronica.

She was the last time he’d taken work home with him. The mind games had been fun at first, and having clean pussy on demand was a definite plus. But he’d grown tired of playing at domesticity, of making blatantly false promises (of course I don’t touch the other girls, baby, only you). Boredom led to stupid choices. A kid? Jesse was a man of many talents, but fatherhood was not one of them, especially with a simpering little ex-piggy as the mother. Veronica’s suicide was probably the only good thing to come out of that mess.

But he hadn’t thought of Veronica in over a year, and the fact that he was now just served to piss him off even further. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. He had half a mind to storm back down to the basement and snap the bitch’s skinny neck, just to be done with all of it. He was almost out the door when his computer chimed with an email notification.

From: [email protected] Subject: Found her Attachment: marpol.zip

And just like that, boiling rage gave way to an intense, almost electric curiosity. After the initial encounter, he’d sent a picture of the girl to his team with orders to dig up everything they could about her. Now, it seemed, they’d hit pay-dirt. With a slight quiver of anticipation, Jesse eased himself into his leather desk chair and opened the email.

Name: Marena Polunochnaya Age: 23 (alleged) DOB: Unknown Place of birth: Unknown (native Russian speaker) Relatives: Unknown Education: Unknown

What the fuck? That was it? Jesse snarled, ready to throw the laptop across the room and put A. Gallagher’s head on a pike. He clicked open the attachment with a little more force than necessary and was surprised when dozens of files, arranged chronologically, appeared on the screen. The earliest file (a brief police report about an altercation outside a south Miami bar) was dated from four years ago. Before that, nothing.

Little miss Marena Polunochnaya, it seemed, was half a ghost.

And the other half was a little hellion, he thought, scrolling through what seemed like an inordinate number of police reports. Theft, both petty and vehicular, vandalism, street racing, underage drinking, trespassing, assault and battery, minor arson, justifiable homicide…

Wait, what?!

He couldn’t open the file fast enough. Apparently, the girl had been the victim of an attempted mugging three years prior. According to the court reports, she had killed the mugger in self-defense, sustaining a stab wound in the process. And there was video footage: a security camera outside a club caught the entire thing.

Click.

The footage was surprisingly high-quality for a security cam, although the low light still made the picture a little grainy. A familiar little dark-haired figure walked into the alley and was grabbed by a larger figure with a bandana wrapped around the lower half of its face. The mugger pinned the girl to the wall with his forearm and pulled out a knife. There was no sound, but Jesse didn’t need dialogue to enjoy the show. The girl was making placating gestures with her hands, likely promising cooperation. The idiot eased his hold on her and was immediately gifted with a frankly beautiful left hook. His knife hand lashed out, he staggered back, and the girl was doubled over with the knife buried in her rib cage. By body language, the mugger seemed shocked; he probably hadn’t been expecting a fight or planning on actually using the knife for more than intimidation. The girl stumbled forward a step, hand held out as though pleading for help.

And then.

God.

She pulled the knife out of her chest and slammed it home in the mugger’s throat, ripping it open in a glorious arc of arterial spray. The mugger dropped, convulsed a couple times, and was still. The girl leaned heavily against the wall and pressed a hand against the growing dark patch on her side, presumably staying there until the cops arrived on the scene.

Son. Of. A. Bitch.

If he hadn’t been hard before (he had been), he sure as fuck was now. Jesse watched the video again. Again. Again. He dragged a hand over his growing grin, trying to ignore the uncomfortable tightness of his slacks. He was only about a quarter of the way through the files, and curiosity won out over arousal. He kept scrolling.

After the failed mugging, the girl was admitted to some do-gooder program for “at-risk repeat offenders” under the sponsorship and care of one Dr. Linda Malloy. The program’s website sported pictures of gleaming dormitories and spacious gardens, along with promises of education, vocational training, and therapy for “reintegration into society.” The whole thing was disgustingly optimistic and upbeat, and Jesse almost laughed at the thought of the scraggly wildcat in his basement sitting in one of those plush offices.

Dr. Linda Malloy kept extensive notes. Two and a half years’ worth, to be exact. Many of them were dense with psychobabble and medical jargon that Jesse didn’t have the patience to decipher, so he skimmed them, letting his attention fall on whatever caught his eye.

“...shows clear signs of PTSD - insomnia, night terrors, mistrust of authority, violent reactions to unexpected or unwanted physical contact, frequent dissociative states - but refuses to share any information about the events which may have caused her condition…”

“...had to be sedated after refusing to sleep for four days straight and threatening a staff member with dismemberment…”

“...locked herself in the maintenance shed and was found trying to sharpen her teeth with a screwdriver and a metal file…”

“...continues to meet all overtures of friendliness with aggression or by resolutely ignoring the other party…”

“...refused to speak English the entire session. Later translation shows she was parroting my questions back to me in Russian….”

“...did not move, speak, or make eye contact for the entire session…”

“...regarding her habit of ripping pages out of her journal and burning them after writing on them. I asked her about it one day, and she said thoughts cannot return once they’ve been turned to ash. I asked how she had discovered that, and she simply replied ‘Hana.’ When I asked her who Hana was, her eyes widened, as though she had made a mistake, before her entire manner turned cold and she walked away….”

“...had to lock her in her room at night to keep her from breaking into and sleeping in the walk-in freezer…”

Jesse had never been one for novels - couldn’t see the point in spending hours reading about fake shit - but he could’ve read this shit all day. Amazing how so much fucked-upness could fit into one tiny person. He wondered how she’d ever conned her way into getting discharged until he read a little further and saw that funding for the program had been cut, forcing the “residents” out into the world despite the many protests of the staff.

Information was light after that. She paid for a shitty studio apartment with cash that she must’ve gotten from an under-the-table job. Her run-ins with the police were few and far in between. Jesse didn’t blame her for keeping a low profile after escaping Mayberry Asylum. He wouldn’t want to be stuck in a hellhole like that either. (Of course, now she was stuck in his basement, which probably seemed like another hellhole to her. Oh well.) The final file was dated from three weeks ago.

It was a warrant for her arrest on charges of quadruple homicide.

Jesse inhaled so sharply he nearly choked on it. His eyes darted over the preliminary report. Girl seen entering a penthouse apartment with four men. Noise complaints from downstairs neighbors around 4 am. Police arrive on scene to find three corpses, one almost-corpse, and no girl. No one had seen her leave.

There were pictures. Jesse’s hands were practically shaking with excitement as he opened them.

The first corpse had been pushed down the stairs, his neck bent at a terrible angle and blood seeping from his crushed skull. The second had been stabbed repeatedly with a broken bottle until his face and throat looked like raw hamburger. The third was a mess of chemical burns. The coroner’s report said he’d been drowned in a bathtub full of cleaning chemicals. The fourth man had been bludgeoned with a wooden baseball bat, half the vertebrae in his neck and back shattered. He’d died in the hospital two days later.

Oh, someone has been very, very naughty.

The urge to cleave her little skull in two was rapidly being replaced by the urge to rail her until she forgot her own name. It probably wouldn’t take long, he mused. The name was bigger than the girl. He pulled up the video feed from the basement and was greeted with the sight of her retching miserably over the grate in the floor. Right. Head injury. Drugs. Dehydration. She probably wouldn’t survive the fucking she had coming to her in her current condition, and Jesse now had a very keen interest in keeping her alive. He sent a quick message to his medical team before reopening the footage of the failed mugging.

The best way to regain control of the situation, after all, was to admit that the situation had changed.

The relief he felt as he freed his aching cock was nearly as powerful as an orgasm. Jesse couldn’t remember the last time he was this hard. He ran his thumb over the head, letting out a shuddering breath as he gathered the precum beading on the tip. He began to pump the shaft in slow, firm strokes and let his imagination run wild.

He’d tie her down, of course. No way his devious little doll would remain still long enough for him to fully enjoy her. He’d trace his tongue over every goddamn scar on her body, over her hardened nipples and the sharp points of her hips and that handy little panic button carved into her neck. Then he’d turn his attention to her tight little pussy, keeping her on the edge until she was writhing and swearing and begging for it. Then, only then, he’d make her taste herself on his lips as he slid into her tight, wet heat, fucking her hard and fast until she screamed herself hoarse.

Jesse came with a silent groan and the first real smile he’d had since Princess Fuckin’ Gemstone obliterated his face.

Marena Polunochnaya.

He rolled the name over his tongue. It tasted like blood.

#jesse cromeans #chromeskull #jesse cromeans x ofc #chromeskull x ofc #laid to rest #here it is #11:30 pm on a wednesday right on schedule #my writing #marena polunochnaya

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ill-skillsgard · 6 years ago

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Ascent - Bill Skarsgård

Title: Ascent

Warning: 18+ voyeurism/masturbation/language

Description: A collection of scents and scenes strung together by strange sequences of secrecy and surveyance.

A/N: DAMNIT YOU GUYS. This is my 3rd time posting this fic. It will no longer include the image of the sexy Bill look-alike wanking because wE cAn’T hAvE NiCe tHiNgS. Also, please don’t ask me to send the image because I can’t be sure of ages and I won’t be dinged for providing pr0nz to potentially underage people. I’m so sorry. I tried!

ISO: Quiet roommate; preferably female. Males acceptable too if you're cleanly. Split rent loft in quaint & upscale Rosewell neighbourhood with everything included. 1200 upfront first and last and then rent can be negotiated. E-mail. Do not call/text.

I only had 900 dollars on me but I figured if I e-mailed the person that had put out the ad and set up a time to meet the following week then I could earn enough in tips to cover the rest. Easy as that. Breathing became a little less laboured once I sat back on my futon and realized that I wasn't quite as fucked as I initially thought. Then I wondered how in the hell somebody could use the words quaint and upscale to describe the same neighbourhood. Which one was it? Quaint or upscale? How could it be both? All I was sure of was that I had to find a roommate quickly. The new landlord of my apartment building had decided that I had something to do with the junkies shooting up in the storage unit behind the building, as though I had knowledge of it the whole time and failed to make a report of it, therefore, making me part of the problem. But it wasn't just that; this guy was a jackass of ultimate proportions- a seedy little rich momma's boy that had inherited his parents' sense of self-entitlement and strings of real estate offices spanning across the city and surrounding counties. We did not click at all upon first meeting when he made his rounds to see exactly what kind of tenants he would be dealing with. In fact, the moment I opened the door to my apartment and he peered in to see the apparent cluster-bomb that had gone off in my bachelorette pad, he set his sights on destroying me, or at the very least, evicting me. If only I hadn't answered the door in my stained sweatpants and wrinkled t-shirt from a decade ago when my taste in music remained under-developed. If only I hadn't had the day's worth of crusted mascara stuck in the inner corners of my eyes like black boogers. If I had thrown my hair up in a semi-cute messy bun, rolled down the waistband of my stretchy pants and tossed on my only reputable sweater maybe things could have gone differently. But I didn't. Instead, I let him catch a glimpse into the trash-covered world of crooked posters, laundry and pizza boxes. His prissy, Gucci-wearing ass got one whiff of my body odour and my fate was sealed. Whatever though, shit happens. Even if Millennial pretty-boy newbie landlord hated me, I didn't quite hate myself. Sure, I had had better times in my life but there had also been much worse. I was just going through my annual depression when the Summer was long gone and the scent of leaves rotting in the gutters rang in the impending frost. Who wanted to do anything but sit around and play video games or watch TV for six straight hours after work? Certainly not I. I e-mailed the guy living in Rosewell because I had been through that area once or twice and remembered that it was one of the nicer neighbourhoods; its remnants of old city charm and decadent architecture still intact. That's when I gave it a second thought. 1200 for first and last month's rent was not that much, considering the location. My brain caught up with me and I recognized that there would probably be dozens of people replying to the listing and that my chances were diminished to almost nothing. Oh well, I read on and circled more potential ads with the tip of a fresh permanent marker that was starting to give me a headrush. By some grace of luck, I received an e-mail back the next day from the person that had put out the Rosewell advertisement. It dawned on me that I also didn't know whether he or she was a he or a she or a they. It seemed mundane to ask but the person didn't include their name in the reply and their email address was an obscure reference that I wasn't sure I understood. My imagination decided to take a jog and came upon the silly little notion that perhaps this was one of those things when serial killers lure in unsuspecting victims with promises of rent so cheap in a gentle neighbourhood where nobody would think to look for a body. It was classic of me but I couldn't pretend like I wasn't thinking about it. At least death would help put a stopper in my rut. I didn't know what to expect, walking up to the building with a face sectioned off into quadrants- each with their own tiny glass door and artful wrought iron laced balcony. What kind of a person lived inside? Was it a peppy university student with a small dog and a knack for pulling off an active-wear-is-all-I-wear look? Could it be another snotty, uptight rich boy like my fuck-bag of a landlord? Or perhaps it was a nice older lady that fancied her wine and lived in an effortlessly baroque den, lined with books and trinkets from her travels abroad. Either way, I just hoped they approved of me since I had taken the time to shower, put on a bit of makeup and dress like the clothes I owned weren't questionably clean or variably dirty all the time. The door was painted black and nobody could see through the glimmering panels of stained glass that made up an intricate checkerboard of red and blue with two cantaloupe roses coiling up and away from each other, petals agape and ready to fall. I gave the door a good look over with a smug grimace that was just a feint for my awe. The place was definitely too nice for me but I soldiered on and smiled when I heard the door being unlocked. A man opened the door and the scent of wood and something else immediately wafted out like a ghost casually passing by. Not only was he a man, but a looming sculpture dressed in a sagging brown wool sweater that threw me off from my rehearsed speech. He was tall, pale and had such striking eyes behind his glasses that I couldn't quite meet them without feeling some hint of discomfort. It was like somebody had tossed a limp rug on the statue of David the way his knitted sleeves hung loosely around thick veiny wrists. "Hi. Bill," he motioned to himself. "Won't you come in?" "Um, yeah. Sure." The mud room was painted in tarnished blood orange and was home to a wooden rack full of men's shoes. There were trainers with hints of dirt on the toes and soles, leather dress shoes with the fancy gold buckles on the front, more dress shoes, stylish suede ankle boots, and beaver fur lined moccasins. I could taste the transition from the cool Autumn air to the musky inside of the home. The floors were all wood, the banister leading upstairs was carved from another expensive type of tree and the shelving units were solid oak stretching from floor to high ceiling. Every wall was home to some kind of meticulously placed decorative object. But there were also family photos to lend the place a warm and happy glow. Or it could have just been how the sun shone through the clear bay windows. I was led through the house, past a large cupboard tucked beneath the staircase and a small writing desk that was home to a vintage typewriter cased in filigrees of polished silver. It was then I noticed all the framed book pages lining the walls. We entered a kitchen and I was blown away by how roomy it was compared to the tight, warm front that made up the mudroom and what I had determined was a living room that had been converted into a reading room. There was no TV but there was a chaise lounge with a stack of old books reaching up to a cascading hand-carved armrest. "This is the kitchen. The fridge will be mostly yours. I just use the bottom shelf and the crisper on the left. I just ask that you keep your section clean." "Right," I nodded. "The stove is gas, the fireplace is gas... Everything is gas in here. Um... It gets kind of cold in the winter because the electric baseboards don't really work. If you turn them on it makes the whole place smell like burning sawdust. So... You can use a plug-in heater in your room but... Just wear slippers on the floors." "Oh, okay. Good to know." "Uh... Yeah. The laundry room is through there. I also keep my bike back there. There's another rack mount for a bike if you have one." "No, just my car." "Hmm," Bill pondered with a grimace. I bit my lip and hoped that he wasn't biting his lip from derision. He took in a breath through one of the daintiest noses I had ever seen on a man and adjusted his glasses for a moment before pulling them off completely to wipe the lenses on the hem of his brown knit sweater. "Parking can be kind of a bitch around here," he warned. "Yeah, " I chuckled. "I probably pulled around the block six times before something opened up." "You'll have to get used to that... Or just get a bike like everyone else." With a forced laugh, I attempted to hide the odd sense of shame that he had instilled by suggesting that nobody around these parts bothered with silly things like motor vehicles. Fuck, that could mean he was some sort of health nut that would turn his nose up if he saw the types of meals I made for myself and how lazy I could get. Aside from his alarming curtness, Bill seemed to be calm and easygoing. The house was a wooden ladder of a place; stacked with his worldly possessions and Scandinavian accouterments. It was easy to conclude that he was a single man that kept to himself and I did my best to show him that I fit into the same category. Although, it seemed as though he had already decided that I was moving in. He referred to everything as his, mine or ours and led me through the rest of the house like both our minds were already made up. "Here's the room. It's right next to mine. You have an en-suite bathroom. Toilet kind of acts up once in a while and the shower drain is prone to clogging but it's all easy fixes. Oh... And the walls are kind of thin. I ask that if you have guests over in the evening to keep the socializing downstairs. I suppose I can't really stop you from having people in your room but... I do enjoy my quiet." "That's okay. I don't really hang out with too many people," I said. Bill strolled into the center of the empty room, the soles of his shoes hitting the floor echoed off the bright white walls. He had his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers as he spun on a heel to face me. His shoulders drew up to his ears and for the first time, he cracked a smile. It didn't last long and was accompanied by a shrug of closure. "What do you think?" He asked. "It's nice. I like it. A lot. It's very... Homey." Bill nodded, "yes. So will you take it?" "Uh... You don't have any questions for me? Or anyone else to show the place to?" His full lips set into another grimace as though my question scratched the scab off of a wound that had yet to close. Swallowing hard, I immediately began to regret my inquiry. I should have just been grateful that he saw fit to trust me without so much as delving into my history. "To be frank, I'm not really interested in knowing a lot about you. The less we know about each other, the better. I just need a quiet tenant that won't bother me much and you seem like a sensible woman with your own distractions." "Oh." "I don't mean to sound insensitive." "It's okay. I get it." "You have a job, of course?" "Yes." "Well, that's all I need to know. Just make your rent payments on time and we'll get along." "Not a problem. Sounds good." The entire moving process took a little over a month to complete. I gave my notices where they were due, rented a small truck to pack my things into and drove it across town after handing the keys to the fuck-bag landlord who seemed more than thrilled to watch me departing. Bill had already given me keys to the house and when I arrived the first of the month he was nowhere to be found. Luckily, my possessions didn't extend further than my bed, wardrobe, futon and a couple of side tables that had collected more dust than I thought. After hauling up the ripping black trash bags I had stuffed full of clothes, I tried to decipher a way to get my bed up the winding stairs without scratching the wood or getting myself stuck in a corner. It would have been easier if I had another set of hands and I wanted to clear the halls of all my things before Bill came home and saw the clutter in the front hall. Something told me he was not a fan of mess and I had left a heaving trail all over the mudroom, halls and stairs. With my bed frame already stuck on the first few steps, I decided to sit down and reevaluate my strategy. It was definitely a two-person job that I would not be able to complete on my own. "Fuck, " I cursed as I pulled out my cell phone to make a call to the only person I knew that would be willing to give me a hand; my cousin. On the third ring, I heard the sound of the door opening and footsteps coming through. I was sat on the stairs pouting, my cell clutched to my ear and my breath hitched in my throat. Bill looked up at me from the first-floor landing through the rails of the staircase and smirked at me. "Need some help?" He asked. I immediately terminated the call to my cousin before he could pick up. Shooting up from the fifth step up, I smoothed out the front of my shirt and tried to make it seem like I wasn't about to burst into tears of frustration. "Um, yes. Sorry. I thought I could do it by myself." "No worries," Bill said as he lifted the edge of the bed frame that was hanging off the first step. We dislodged the frame and slowly carried it upstairs but not without a few grunts of effort and sighs when we finally made it to the top floor. Bill's arms were bulging with the strain and when he helped me gently lay the frame down on the floor I couldn't help but stare at the muscles I never knew he had. We had only had a handful of encounters and each time he had been wearing baggy clothes that veiled the true form of his body. Bill helped me bring everything else I had upstairs and once the last of my belongings arrived he evaluated the mess that I would have to organize myself. Half my clothes were spilling out of bags and my furniture was yet to find a proper place. "Well, I'll leave you to it. Unless you have anything else?" "No. This is it. Thanks for your help." "No problem," he nodded with a small pointed smile that brought out a sweetness in his face before exiting the room. I heard the sounds of his footsteps drumming down the stairs but before I had the chance to get to work unpacking, Bill came back. When I looked up at him he had a peculiar look on his face that I couldn't read. It may have been a cross between uncertainty and embarrassment. "You um... These were on the stairs," he showed me what he had clutched in his hand and the moment I realized that the black material in his hand was a pair of my underwear, I paled. "Oh my god," I laughed uneasily. "I'm so sorry. They must have fallen out when I was dragging the bags up the steps. My panties looked crumpled and insignificant in his large hand as he dangled them between two fingers for me to grab. When I caught them I stuffed them in my pocket immediately and blushed even harder than I had when he had come home to see me flustered on the stairs. "It's all right. Could be worse things to find," he pointed out. "I guess so," I chuckled. Bill smirked at me, eyes darting to the pocket that contained the stray panties and gave me one last glance before leaving me to stew in my mortification. Once I was certain Bill was gone, I took the panties out to evaluate just how embarrassed I should have been. The last thing I needed was for my new roommate to have already discovered a pair of my dirty underwear on the floor. They were generic and made of stretchy faux lace that covered next to no ass cheek but I would have considered them to be a good go-to pair nonetheless. Based on visual inspection and a quick sniff, I was assured that everything checked out and Bill hadn't had the displeasure of picking up a pair of my period panties with the permanent stains in the crotch. If anyone had to have found a pair of my underwear I was glad it was a sexy pair and not ones that I had been hanging onto since high school. But because it was a man that had found them, I felt a strange yearning for approval. I thought about what he could have been thinking about for a long time as I set up my bed and unpacked my necessities. It was going to be weird having a roommate.

~*~

Bill was a strange man. Bill had an office in his room and a writing desk stacked with papers and manuscripts. Bill was a writer. When I asked him if I could read something he had written he said nothing. He only peered at me warily over his wire-framed glasses. We were in the kitchen at the same time and I figured it friendly to strike up a conversation. I had seen all of his papers and looked at all of the stuff he had in the house by then and deduced that he had to have been a writer. All I got from him was a gentle shrug of his stately shoulders and a mumble that I couldn't hear. "You're a writer, aren't you?" I continued. "Yes. I suppose, in a way I am." "Ever had anything published?" Bill rapidly shook his head and muttered, "not here, no. Back home... In university. But not here." The subject of him being a writer seemed touchy so I left my line of questioning at that while I boiled water to make tea. I couldn't help but watch him on the other side of the kitchen preparing his lunch because he was comically lanky yet carried himself with graciousness and poise. His side profile was vexing to me as well. It was then that I realized that Bill was not just commonly handsome, but sculpted in a way that I wasn't used to seeing. With a cute boyish nose and arrestive eyes that shone light green through the lenses of his glasses, I felt that old familiar pang of a crush plunging its way from my chest to my gut and all the way down to my groin. He didn't speak much and I hardly ever saw him because he was always in his room with the door shut. I had a feeling that me bringing up his writing had alarmed him into keeping the door closed at all times. It must have been an adjustment for him to go from living alone to having somebody sleeping in the room right next to him. I tried not to make much of the crush but the times that I did see Bill I always tried to stare for as long as possible. He was a mystery to me; a person living in the very same quarters but with a totally separate life that I had no windows into. Bill had pictures of him and a lot of other people that looked kind of like him so I tried to piece together what his family was like without asking him personally. The family photos were all in chunky brass frames and placed in a strategically sporadic way on the wall shelf. There were many books and three different runs of encyclopedic information stacked side by side with their brightly dyed leather spines displaying a prestigious title and the volume number, but it was the pictures that intrigued me most. By the looks of it, Bill had a lot of brothers and a sister. The longer I analyzed each shelf the more I managed to paint a picture of him for myself based on his belongings. There was a photo of Bill next to some other men of similar heights and facial structures, all dressed warmly and huddled together, each with his own version of a charming smile on. It was amusing to see pictures of him smiling since he had hardly tossed more than a crooked smirk my way. I wasn't sure if Bill was standoffish or if he thought me a slob because of the first day I arrived. The house was cleaner than any place I had ever had by myself and I gathered that he liked to keep it that way. I remembered what it had said in his ad about cleanliness. Maybe I had disgusted him. He had been so sold on having me as his roommate but that was weeks ago and he hadn't tried to engage me much since. It didn't weigh heavily on my mind for long. After all, even though I was the crusty definition of a bachelorette, I could put it together that trying to fuck my roommate that I didn't know was probably a surefire way to complicate things beyond repair. And the place was nice. I wanted to stay and I wanted Bill to like me.

~*~

I walked into his room when I knew for certain that he was gone. I don't know why the sudden urge overtook me and steered me to his bedroom door. I opened it and a waft of his scent came over me. It was like fresh cotton and chopped wood or an old book that had been kept in pristine condition. His writing desk beckoned me so I went without hesitation to cast my eyes over the papers on its surface. There were some printed pages full of words with hand-written notes scribbled in the margins. One of the most eye-catching pieces was a mostly blank white page that had been the last of the bunch to be placed upon the altar of his creative expositions.

I can't get enough of the scent that she left behind.

After reading that one line, I snapped out of my mindless intrusion and left his bedroom at once. Why I had gone in there in the first place was a mystery and I was overcome with guilt that pushed me in the direction of avoidance. I felt somehow he would know that I had gone into his room without permission.

~*~

A man from work had asked me out on a date and I stood in the shower vigorously washing the shampoo out of my hair. I was already late and had to scramble to put together an outfit out of what little clean clothing I had. There had been no time for me to do any laundry so I made do with an old sundress that I had worn the shit out of the Summer before, a pair of black nylon leggings with a hole in the crotch and the only pair of underwear that I could find that wasn't stretched out from me wearing them. I had laid out everything on my bed and bustled around trying to find my good face moisturizer and the only high-end lipstick that I had been coveting for the better part of two years. When I got dressed, I had somehow lost pieces of my attire along the way and rushed around looking for the underwear that I had dubbed acceptable to wear out on a date. My phone went off with a notification from my date saying that he was circling around the block again because he couldn't find a place to park. I quickly messaged him back and told him I would be down in five short minutes. Forgoing the panties, I hiked on my nylons and hoped that the skirt of my dress would manage to cover me enough all night that I didn't accidentally flash my pussy while getting in and out of his car. The date was boring and I didn't find myself connecting with him as we had at work. Maybe it was because we were co-workers or maybe it was because he was smiling too much at me the whole time, but I decided to put an end to the night after a dessert and the last of a bottle of cheap wine. When I got home, I shut the door and pulled my vibrator out of my empty underwear drawer.

~*~

In the morning on one of my days off, I stood in the kitchen making myself a pathetic breakfast of two pieces of toast with a slice of tomato and chunks of a too-ripe avocado splattered between them. First I was focused and calm and then suddenly I felt like something had materialized behind me. When I turned around, I let out a gasp as I noticed Bill standing next to me with no shirt on, his hair a mess and his eyes half-closed. "Sorry," he breathed through his nose. "Need a glass, please." I got out of his way and watched as he opened the cupboard that I had been standing in front of and took out a clean glass to pour water into. My eyes were drawn to the burgeoning of hair from his armpits when he reached to the top shelf. Without saying a word, he filled his glass from the tap and then walked back upstairs casually sipping his water. I don't know how he had managed to sneak up on me without me hearing the floorboards protesting beneath his feet but it had happened and my heart continued to race until I heard him enter his bedroom right above the kitchen.

~*~

I had tossed my laundry into the dryer and let it run while I left for work. When I got home my laundry was all folded and put back in my basket. My jeans and work pants were on the bottom, my shirts the second tier and then several pairs of my panties had been folded neatly in halves and placed on top. "Um... Okay," I whispered to myself, lifting the basket off the dryer that was still rumbling full of Bill's laundry.

~*~

A nap was on the immediate horizon for me when I got home from work. I kicked my shoes off as soon as I got in the door and made right for my bedroom. Bill must not have heard me climbing the stairs as I hadn't heard him come up behind me the week before because his door was open and what I saw halted me in my place and robbed me of the abilities to breath or think. There he was, laying on his bed naked with his right hand wrapped around his dick. But it wasn't that he was stroking himself that caught me completely off-guard, it was what he clutched to his nose and mouth with his other hand; the pair of my panties that he had discovered on the floor all those weeks ago when I first moved in. Rooted with panic and intrigue, I covered my mouth and watched on from the third-to-last step at the man taking deep breaths of my underwear while he pulled on his cock and massaged his balls. When I heard a faint groan leave his mouth I felt my floodgates crashing open. The tingle I felt budding from my clit grew so strong that my hands went numb and my face turned red-hot. There was no way that Bill hadn't heard me coming in the door and ascending the steps. But if he knew that I was there watching him play with himself, he didn't acknowledge it. He was in his own world of pleasure, getting high off the fumes that I had infused into the fabric of the underwear he was meddling with his fingers. I wanted to watch him shoot his cum from the tip of his cock but I was so scared that he would see me that I cowered back so that if his gaze did travel beyond the walls of his bedroom, perhaps he wouldn't catch me staring. Another long, deep moan left him and the sound of it somehow filled every sense I had. It was as though I could smell what he was smelling, feel how he was feeling and the taste left behind in my mouth was wetted with saliva being over-produced by my own sexual appetite. I pictured him kissing my clit, pushing my legs back and using his tongue to bore into me, letting it run down, down, down so he could taste every inch of me. A gasp nearly escaped me when I saw him push the crotch of my stolen panties into his mouth. His head dropped back into his pillows and his slow, languid strokes of his cock turned erratic. "Fuck!" He emitted after spitting the panties out and dragging them down his body to wrap around the base of his shaft. "Fuck, fuck, fuck... Mmm, my god." After a minute of every muscle in his body flexing, it looked like he was inches away from coming and I leaned forward with my hand out on the last step to balance myself so I could watch the end result. It took a bit longer than I expected but I watched on unblinkingly until he finally managed to pump out an orgasm that ripped through his body and exited him in a glorious spurt of cum. Then there was another spurt and another, all landing in a perfect sticky mess over his stomach and chest. The sun coming in through his window glittered over his spackled body while a dryness hardened my tongue. I gawked as he moved to mop up his own mess with my black lace panties. What he was going to do next was as much a mystery to me as the last ten minutes I had spent as a voyeur. His cock laid over the top of his thigh and shrunk with each passing second while he rolled my panties up into a ball with his fist. All of his muscles relaxed and he sank further into the bed, closed his eyes all the while my stolen cum-soaked panties remained clutched to his chest like a cross. I could almost smell the musk permeating from the open door. Slowly, I descended the stairs one by painstaking one.

#bill skarsgård fanfiction #bill skarsgard fanfiction #fanfiction #bill skarsgård smut #bill skarsgard smut

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dannyphantomisameme · 6 years ago

Text

Excuses

Phic Phight Prompt by @ave-aria

“In the wake of Phantom Planet, school resumes at Casper High. Lancer tries to collect homework assigned before the Disasteroid, but - of course - who does homework during the end of the world? Nobody, that's who.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He was late. Again.

Lancer was surely going to kill him. He’d been late to school everyday last week and by now he could recognize that his first period teacher was getting annoyed. In addition to his horrible attendance, he hadn’t completed the assignment that was due today, but this time, he had a reasonable excuse.

Capping the thermos in his hand, he stuffed it into his purple backpack which slung loosely across his shoulder. He leaped into the air, setting off in an attempt to make it before his first class ended. Today, it had taken an abnormal amount of time to get Technus to surrender, considering he didn’t have Tuck and his PDA. But he had finally done it, and now he was late.

Soaring through the air with the minimal amount of energy he had after barely receiving any sleep last night, he headed in the direction of the only high school in miles.

Casper High was notorious for its constant claims of ghost infestations. Although other high schools ridiculed the institution for its absurd claims, the citizens of Amity Park knew the reality of it all. The students often received breaks because of the constant rebuilding required to fix the destruction ghost attacks posed. Unfortunately, today wasn’t one of those days.

He swiftly descended onto the the ground and landed on the stairs in front of the school. He dashed into the building, running as quick as he could while transforming. A ring of blue light fell from the top of his head all the way to his feet, leaving an alternate version of himself. His shoes skidded against the linoleum floor as he turned a corner. Running down the hall once again, he turned another corner and slammed into an unsuspecting figure.

“Sorry!” He yelped as he regained his composure and took off once again. He had run into Principal Ishiyama, who was left confused at his hasty appearance. She shouted after him, but Danny didn’t take the time to listen. He finally found the classroom door and quickly opened it.

xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

The door swung open, interrupting Lancer and revealing a disarrayed teen. “Sorry I’m la-” Daniel replied in haste only to suddenly stop as he noticed the stares he was receiving. All of the students had their eyes on him. Looking back at everyone with a questioning glance, the boy shuffled into the classroom and closed the door behind him.

Although Lancer understood why people were staring at him, it felt odd that Daniel, an outcast, was being watched like a celebrity, which ironically, he was.

“It’s nice to see you Mr. Fenton.” Lancer greeted as the raven haired boy shuffled over to his desk at the back of the classroom. Everyone’s stares followed him as he sat down and placed his backpack on the ground. Just as the student sat down, a sudden explosion of voices from the others filled the previous silence. The cacophony of conversations prompted an annoyed Lancer to silence his students.

“Students, please be quiet.” Lancer said in an aggravated tone. “I understand that there are some matters from this weekend that you would like to discuss, and I will allow you to, once I’ve collected your assignments from Friday.”

His students eyes went wide as they realized they hadn’t done their homework. Even the smartest kids who usually had their homework completed weeks in advance had managed to completely forget about the assignment. Given the circumstances that the world had been in danger and was close to destruction, it felt fitting for the students to dismiss their assignments and only hope that a certain ghost boy could save their world.

“Please hand your assignments to the front of the classroom, and then we can continue with our plans.” Lancer said as he glanced around the classroom.

Nobody stood up.

The students looked around the class to see if anyone had completed the assignment, but no one had.

“Is there anybody who did the homework?” Lancer asked only to receive shaking heads in return. One student raised their hand.

“In our defense sir, we were in a global crisis. How could we have worked on our homework when the world was in danger?” said Mikey somewhat defiantly, unlike his usually introverted self. Another hand shot up.

“Like, it would have been impossible to do my homework when some giant asteroid was hurtling towards me.” Paulina said as she filed at her nails. Lancer swore he could hear Samantha mutter something along the lines of ‘not everything revolves around you Paulina’, leaving him battling to keep his smile from showing.

Lancer let out a sigh. How was he going to teach his class if no one had done the preparatory work for today’s lecture? After considering the situation for another minute, he decided to let it slide. He could adjust his teaching schedule to accommodate for one day.

“Alright fine. I’ll extend the date to tomorrow. Rest of the class is a free period. Please keep your conversations to a low volume.” Lancer instructed as he sat down in his desk chair. All the students turned backwards to face Daniel, some even moving their desks.

“Uh Fentur- I mean Fenton, is it true? Are you really Phantom?” Dash asked as he turned to face the raven haired boy. The question intrigued Lancer and he decided to listen in while simultaneously reading through his emails.

He had seen the news and the revelation as Phantom as his own student, Mr. Fenton. It had initially shocked him, how could one be a human and a ghost simultaneously? Was he even human? How had this come to be?

As he further pondered the questions, gears began to click as he recognized his obliviousness to this whole situation. How had he not noticed the student’s constant bathroom breaks and late attendances? The injuries he seemed to sustain after returning from said breaks? The daily uncompleted assignments? The lack of sleep he seemed to have?

The teacher had previously chalked it all up to bullying, as he had known Mr. Fenton was a common punching bag for the upperclassmen jocks. He knew it was wrong to not discipline the jocks for their disrespectful behavior, but they were considered the schools prized possession and on strict orders under principal Ishiyama to not be penalized for their misconduct. It frustrated Lancer, not being able to uphold his moral standards just because some school wanted to make money off of their students.

But he let it slide, only for the sake of not being fired. Any salary, even one as small as his, was necessary for his survival. At hearing the voice of his most reserved student, he was sucked out of his thoughts and brought back into reality.

“Well, uh… yeah I guess.” Daniel stuttered as he rubbed his neck with his hand. It was a common gesture that Lancer had caught on to over the years. The student used it whenever he felt shy, timid, or was bending the truth and making an excuse.

“Can you show us?! I wanna see the ghost boy!” Paulina practically screeched. She was the one who ran the Danny Phantom Fan Club, however despite her immense liking for the famous hero, she wasn’t the only one bouncing out of her seat in joy.

“Uh,.. I don’t know.” He said eyes shifting to the ground. It was obvious he wasn’t enjoying the attention from his fellow classmates. His best friend Tucker nudged his elbow in an attempt to get Daniel to continue. “Mr. Lancer, can I-?”

“Go ahead Daniel.” Lancer said as he nodded towards the boy. Daniel stared back in disbelief. It was obvious he didn’t want to transform into his alternate self so soon after his revelation, let alone in front of a group of his crazed fans. But he couldn’t say no to his classmates, especially with the approval of Lancer.

Sighing, the boy stood up and backed up near the wall. He looked around the class and suddenly two rings appeared at his waist. Lancer couldn’t remove his eyes from the spectacle. It was one thing seeing it on TV, but it was another to see it up close and personal.

One ring descended to his feet while the other rose to his hair, leaving the boy looking like an inverted version of himself. The students ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ at the wondrous display of light, some girls were even screaming at the sight of their beloved hero.

Once the rings disappeared, Daniel levitated off the ground, neon green eyes piercing the crowd of unruly teenagers. Lancer noticed himself gawking at the sight and quickly reoriented himself. How did his most enigmatic students manage to save the entire world? The student who he thought would never amount to anything? The student with the worst grades he had ever seen in his entire career of being a teacher?

But Daniel had proved him wrong. He’d never seen a student rise so quickly from the dead, quite literally too. He’d secretly been one of the most iconic people in town, and now globally. It truly warmed his heart to know that his student had been the one to save the world. If only he had known sooner of Daniel’s alternative self, he might’ve helped the boy on his assignments and decreased his overall workload.

“I can’t believe it. You really are Phantom…” Dash murmured.

“Wow Fenton, what else can you do?” Kwan shouted.

“Can you take me on a ride ghostboy?” Paulina asked in a flirtatious voice.

Several other students began talking simultaneously, making Lancer annoyed. It seemed as if Samantha and Tucker were also displeased at the several voices.

“Quiet down students. Daniel can only answer one question at a time, so please, raise your hands.” Daniel seemed to let go of his tense posture as he slowly returned to a slouch.

“Uh... Valerie.” Daniel said as he pointed to the African American girl in the back after looking through the crowd of students.

“Why didn’t you tell any of us?” She asked somewhat aggressively with narrow eyes. Her question seemed to have some hidden meaning, but Lancer couldn’t define what exactly was her true message.

“I couldn’t risk anyone’s lives in danger.”

“What about Sam and Tuck? They knew about it. Weren’t their lives important?” She questioned the boy.

“Well uh, they were there when it happened…” Daniel replied unsurely.

“It?” Valerie asked as she leaned out of her seat and towards the ghostly teen.

“The accident.” Daniel said dropping back to the ground and transforming into his former self. He seemed uncomfortable at the mention of this accident, which meant Lancer would need to intervene. Before he could, Samantha replied.

“Val let’s not talk about that day, ok? Clearly he’s not ready.” She said standing up and looking the African American girl squarely in the eye. Valerie reclined back in her chair from her previous tense posture and began muttering something incoherent.

“Next question.” said Samantha as she turned to face the students who had once again shot their hands into the air in an effort to be called on. “Lester.”

“What powers do you have?” asked the red haired boy from the back.

“Uh, ecto-ray, intangibility, invisibility, flight, ecto-shield, cryokinesis, body manipulation, extra strength, extra healing, and uh… those are the ones I can list off of the top of my head.” Said Daniel as he crossed his arms over his chest. Lester was left in awe as he wished he had powers too.

The class continued like this until the last five minutes of the class period, where Lancer interrupted the students Q&A session to remind them of their assignment tomorrow.

“Remember students, complete Friday’s homework by the beginning of class tomorrow if you would like to earn credit. I will adjust our schedule to accommodate for today’s missed lesson. This means you will have double the assignments tomorrow. Is that clear for everyone?”

Many students groaned, while some replied with a ‘yes’. They began to gather their things and straighten out the desks to their previous placements. The bell rang a second later and students began filing out of the classroom, conversing amongst themselves.

“Mr. Fenton, could you come see me for a moment?” Lancer said as he glanced at the boy. He nodded towards his friends, who left the classroom to wait for him outside. The boy shuffled up to Lancers desk, backpack loosely hanging off his shoulder.

“Daniel, I want you to know that I’m proud of you.” Lancer said with a smile, prompting the teen to return the smile as well.

“Thanks Mr. Lancer. You don’t know how great that is to hear from you.” He said through his wide grin.

“Just when I thought I might have to recommend your for summer school, you manage to save the entire world.” Lancer said sarcastically. “I’m just curious, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you.”

“Like I said Lancer, I couldn’t risk your’s or anyone’s life. If you knew I was Phantom, the ghosts would come after you.” The raven haired boy replied quickly.

Daniel’s answer was reasonable, but something felt missing. It was as if he was leaving some crucial information out of the picture.

“Is that truly why you didn’t tell anyone?” Lancer questioned.

The boy was left speechless, and Lancer knew why. He had uncovered another part of his student that he had kept so strongly concealed. Daniel stared at Lancer for a few seconds before replying in a lower and softer voice.

“I didn’t know if people would accept me. Would I be even more of a freak than I am now?” he replied staring at his shoes.

“Daniel, you realize that no matter who or what you are, I will always accept you. You’ve done astounding things with your special powers, and despite your mix of identities, I will always be there for you. And like I said, I am very proud of you…”

Daniel stood there soaking in the words, for a moment he looked like he was going to say something, but then he shut his mouth. He walked around the desk and towards the teacher. He then wrapped his arms around Lancer, and Lancer returned the embrace. The two hugged for a moment, with Lancer patting Daniel on the back. Leaving the embrace, Lancer spoke to his student.

“Now go to your friends, they’re waiting.” he said with a smile.

“Thank you Mr. Lancer.” Danny said looking straight at his teacher. Lancer could’ve sworn he saw a flash of green light from the student’s eye, before he turned around and walked into the hallway.

Lancer watched as the trio walked past the door and into the sea of students.

He really was proud of the enigma everyone called Danny Fenton.

And so was everybody else.

#phic phight #im so sorry this is the only thing ive posted for the phight #ive been awfully busy and with no writing motivation

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fyrapartnersearch · 5 years ago

Text

A sly return

Hello, it’s been a while…   And I am back with a new request! This one will be more specific as it only targets certain fandoms. I have had plenty of amazing original roleplays in the past time but now my desire is slowly favouring canon universes once again. Btw, call me Gil ;)   I have a strong penchant for including original characters and ideas that can be added to the pre-existing plot. Also very happy to expand on the given worlds and open to AU’s. Okay so I am a really big nerd when it comes to the supernatural, mysterious, urban myth and fantasy. Love combining those given elements with organised crime, complex characters, cataclysmic events and dark schemes that all unravels as time goes on.    A little about me. You must be at least 18+ of age if you want to start a roleplay with this gal here. Since I am in my twenties, I prefer maturer partners. I accept anyone, regardless male or female. What I expect is a decent (if not very good) grasp on grammar, the ability and will to write creatively, shoulder a great part of the plotting and responsibility as well as passion for roleplaying. Of course this should be seen as a fun hobby but I really like to invest… I wish for my partner / friend to take equal initiative.   Here are my cravings and guidelines! Even though they are limited, I made sure to filter out the ones I know I wouldn’t role-play anytime soon. So if you are interested in something I didn't mention here, I am afraid I might not role-play this or decline.    Fandoms and cravings:

Castlevania ****

Devil May Cry ****

Game of Thrones ***

Witcher *** 

Fate **

 Star Wars ***

 What it entails:  Alright, so you are writing with some of a mature age. I have 11 years of writing experience when it comes to the game. This will be a fair warning that this request is not for the faint of heart. There will be violence, swearing, gore, intimate themes, uncomfortable subjects, drama, conflict and other dark matters included within the story. I have few limits but I will respect the boundaries of my partner, so do not shy away from telling me. Just so you know, I won’t fade to black or skip out on the nitty gritty. Go big or go home. Interests: My line of interests are very electric when it comes to genres. I love conceiving my own lore inside a stories, be it an original or a pre-existing story. Gothic fantasy among others are one of my favorites. I am not opposed to tapping into science fiction, action, romance, crime, action or thriller genres, in fact I encourage it. Inspirations for me are Lovecraft, Hellsing, Blade, Underworld, etc. As for the fandom inspired RPs, I am more than willing to bend some rules and be a little indulgent. Writing: 3rd person perspective. My writing is wide-ranging and flexible, which means that frequently, word count will go up 1000+ per reply - though it highly depends on the given situation and partner. Quality over quantity as they say - but why not both? I love detail in description, and I am actively seeking someone of the same infamy. My partner should have a basic grasp on grammar, punctuation and somewhat of an interest in knowledgeable writing. I also double! (preferably, but we can always discuss whether it makes sense for our roleplay our not.) World building and sharing the burden: You should be active and help me shape the world around our characters. Even if we discuss many things during and before the roleplay, how we wish for things to play out and take its course, I am always happy to be surprised with a secret of my partner’s character I didn’t know before. You don’t need to lay out all your cards on the table… keep it a little mysterious and suspenseful. Just enough so we can work with the ideas, but not completely kill off the suspense. Characters: I write canon as well as OC characters. Faceclaims, GIFs, drawings, mood boards or just a plain physical description is absolutely sufficient. Whatever floats your boat when it comes to visualising your character and their backstory, I’m on board. Characters should be written as opulent, flawed, unique, talented, heroic, villainous, spiteful, angry, and everything in-between figures. In other words, don’t be scared of making them ‘human’, even when they are non-human. Romance: Openly play and accept characters of both genders, preferable m x f pairings, but I am open to m x m and f x f relationships as well. I have more experience with m x f relationships, so I might be more savvy with this one. If the chemistry of two characters compel me, I will ship them no matter what! When it comes to sexual scenarios and intimacy (intercourse, foreplay, all that jazz). I encourage erotism, but in a tasteful manner (that goes for romance as well). The passion must be felt through the screen, even if it’s just a mere description of someone’s deep train of thought. Content: Drama, violence, sex, metamorphosis, symbolism, action, romance, pretty much everything is a-okay. I am unbothered by certain subjects that may or may not be uncomfortable for the general public. Roleplays are fictional stories and we best keep viewing them as such. If there are things you are uncomfortable with, name them and I shall respect those boundaries. But don’t be surprised when suddenly one of our characters bites the dust, or gets tortured. It may be difficult to write and read, but it is all part of the story and furthering the plot. My roleplays imply and involve brutality, mayhem, psychological and physical torture as well as other things. But I also endorse beauty, serenity and placid moments, scenes or characters. I love it when it comes full circle… everyone- and everything has their beautiful and hideous side. Both should be embraced. Communication and friendship: OOC-chat friendly! I love meeting new people and making potential friends. Plus it strengthens the compatibility between us. Communication is the alpha and the omega. If there is something that bothers you, or if you think you are left out in some way (be it a mistake on my part or we’re both at fault here), don’t be scared of telling me. Really, it won’t be taken personally - since I know that we slip up every now and then, we’re only human after all. It is also completely sufficient if you only type out a few messages per week. I am super chill about it. It doesn’t bother me re-writing a scene to fit the narrative more. If there are mistakes, they can be corrected - just to get that out there. We can always exchange opinions and see what would benefit the story most. I will also voice my opinion should something arise that could be bothersome. World building and plotting: An active roleplayer is wanted without a doubt. Can’t do the thinking for two now. Let’s row this boat together. Limits: Subject matters I won’t touch are pedophilia, bestiality, necrophilia, vore, scat, furries and some other bizarre fetishes. Also no one-liners or text-talk messages. The sentences have to be cohesive, coherent and decently structured.    Now a little more information about myself. I live in CET central Europe. My response rate varies throughout the weeks, depending on my schedule.  I study at a university full time and work a job on the side and both are keeping me fairly busy. My writing will increase most likely during the weekends. If I should hit a hiatus, I will inform you as soon as possible. I understand when you are busy as well and are not able to respond, though I prefer if my partner does not ghost me. At least let me know what’s going on so I can adjust and put the roleplay on hold if needed!  Mediums I roleplay on are email and googledocs. Though I also have Discord in case for OOC chat! Preferably my partner would message me first on email, giving me a brief description of themselves, their cravings as well as ideas. That way I can see if we’re compatible or if this bears any potential. After that we can easily move to Discord and carry out our chats / conversation there.   Message me here EMAIL: [email protected] Hope to hear from you soon! Lots of love!     Sincerely yours, -Gil

#indie rp #indie roleplay #independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #long term #email #tumblr #spn rp #aou rp #submission

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conceited-curtains · 6 years ago

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Height

I am eighteen years old. I am 5′9″ and apparently I am too tall for everything. I have been too tall for a lot since I was young, and it has had its advantages, don’t get me wrong, but the disadvantages outweigh the advantages in this case. I am intimidating and am “not allowed” to be introverted because I automatically stand out too much-- not to mention I am a redhead so even if I were average height I would still be a sore thumb.

And I’m not even that tall. 5′9″ should not be considered tall, but just slightly above average. I have struggled with my height for the majority of my life because I am immediately seen as intimidating, or I must be an athlete. But if I want to do theatre and music and acting, I have to do it with male counterparts taller than me, and that more that not means they will be significantly older than me.

I was just given a role in an original youth show based off of a show I absolutely adore and this is how they told me I was getting cast last Sunday:

Congratulations, Sierra! We would like to offer you the roles of (undesired role #1) and (undesired role #2) in (I’ll just leave the name of the show out)! We were so impressed with your voice (and acting/dancing) and would like to showcase your talents with many vocal solos and featured characters throughout the show. You could easily handle the role of (desired character), but it didn't work out with the pairing next to (male counterpart) (who is short-statured). So, we will really utilize your beautiful voice as (undesired role #1) and also (role #2). As (role #2), you will start the show as the star vocalist... until strange things start happening with ghost sighting. (Role #2) character is based off an actual ghost legend, so that part of the show will be very interesting to reenact as well.

Being the human that I am, I sobbed after reading this. You could easily handle the role... but it didn’t work out with the pairing. A role I have been dreaming of playing since as long as I can remember and I am too tall/he is too short. I was the only one at the call back that could sing the part of the character I so badly wanted. I sang my heart out, acted my socks off and worked so hard at that four hour audition/callback to be told I was too tall? It shouldn’t matter! Who cares if I’m a little taller than he is?? The fact that they told me that was the sole reason I wasn’t getting cast in that role was crushing. But I sucked it up, and I told myself “this is theatre, this is the way it is, accept the role you’ve been given and give it everything you’ve got”.

That lasted about a week.

Our first rehearsal was tonight and it was horrendous. I had befriended some of the girls there who were about 16, 14, 14, 13, and 12. I have become used to working with younger young-adults in theatre and had no problem bonding with them at the callback, and I enjoyed myself. At the callbacks, they told me they could hear me singing through the wall and that they were certain I would get the role I wanted. I showed up to the rehearsal and five separate times I was told: “You got cast as (desired role), didn’t you.” To which I held back tears when I replied no. They asked why and I told them that is the way it goes. I wasn’t going to put a bad name to my director to my fellow cast-members, that would solve nothing. It wouldn’t get me the role, it would make me the type of person I do not want to be.

Other people started arriving then and the majority of the kids there were under eight years old. My heart sank, my stomach lurched, and I almost walked right back out to my car and left.

I had never heard of this theatre company, they had never heard of me, I lived an hour away but I figured this is a show of a lifetime and I would love to at least be a part of it in some way.

Once the rehearsal started I noticed something was off. The script was tweaked to fit the humor of a five-year old, the script looked like it was printed off of Microsoft Word Processor by a high school drama student writing a ten-minute play for class. Not every part was cast, and parts were fitted to the people playing them. They did not have a solid script, nor a selected ending, the “music director” (if you can call her that) told me that for the part of my second role, they were not sure of what song they wanted and that I could choose what I wanted to sing. The song for the first character I was cast in, which I also inadvertently chose, could be cut however I wanted.

I immediately felt like they were not as invested in this show as I had planned to be and I decided that I could not do this show, that it was simply unreasonable for this to go on.

This is the email I sent them when I got home from rehearsals an hour later:

Hello,

I need to inform you that I will be unable to do the show. The circumstances surrounding this decision were very difficult for me to come to terms with, but there are some things that I feel are insurmountable.

First of all, being the eldest by wide strokes in this show is an obstacle that I was not prepared for. Since the audition was offered for up to 18 years old, I was expecting to find more people my age, or near my age, to be in the show, and when I was cast I believed that was the case. At the rehearsal tonight, there were more children under the age of twelve than above and I cannot see myself working in a show with a cast of small children being eighteen years old, and being the only eighteen-year-old.

Secondly, from your email to me about initial casting, I was led to believe that though height seemed to be the only issue in being cast in the leading role, that I would still have an opportunity to perform in terms of singing and acting. From today's rehearsal, I found had one short line in each of the acts and though I had singing solos, I felt that for my age and my ability I was being underused. And I understand that this is a production for younger children and I am not saying that anything should be taken away from them to be given to me, or that I deserve a bigger part. Contrarily, I am saying that it seems wiser to me to offer the part to a child better suited in terms of the cast as a whole.

I mean no disrespect to your value as a director or your ability in terms of casting, I just feel that I was not given an accurate depiction of what the show experience would be, and I feel that the time commitment I am putting away from my work at both of my jobs in not only attending rehearsals but driving an hour to get there is not worth while for either side.

I want your show to be everything that you have planned for it to be, and from the casting and the experience I had at rehearsals tonight, I sincerely believe that it is best that I withdraw from the role and let it be offered to another member of the cast.

I am sorry if I have wasted your time or seem ungrateful for the experience you have offered, it was wonderful to have auditioned and experienced working with you even to the degree that I did, but I do truly believe this is best for everyone.

If I could have my deposit of $150 mailed to me at (my home address), that would be greatly appreciated so I will not have to use too much more of either of our time.

Thank you for the opportunity and the honor of casting me in your show, and I know you will put on a wonderful show.

AND I PAYED MONEY FOR THIS! LIKE HELL NO I’M DONE

If they even try to tell me that anything I said in my email is false or not fair I am going to lose my mind and flip out on them. I was much nicer on this email than I should have been and if they tell me any different I will unleash all of my tears and rage.

#height #tallgirlproblems #theatre #theatregirlproblems

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coppicefics · 4 years ago

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Masked Omens: Week Three

New chapter here, or read from the start here!

(Right click picture and select ‘View Image’ or ‘Open Image In New Tab’ for hi-res version.)

[Image Description: Image 1 - A simple rendition of the Masked Singer UK logo, a golden mask with colourful fragments flying off of it. The mask has a golden halo and a golden devil tail protruding from either side. Below, gold text reads ‘Masked Omens’.

Image 2 - A page from the Entertainment section of the Capital Herald, dated Saturday, 9th January, 2021. Full image description and transcript below the cut. End ID.]

The Capital Herald - Saturday, 9th January, 2021 Entertainment

Main story: SECOND SABLE BRAND AMBASSADOR ADMITTED TO HOSPITAL Stunned fans phone in to save the day as model collapses during charity fundraising challenge Model and social media influencer Adam Mann, 29, was rushed to hospital on Friday night after he collapsed during a live webstream. Worried fans alerted the authorities and an ambulance was dispatched to Mann's Kensington home at approximately 8pm last night. Mann's representatives have yet to release a statement, but a source close to him told The Capital Herald that Mann had been feeling unwell for some time. “He's been out of sorts for ages,” she admitted, “and when I looked up the symptoms online, it said it was probably malnutrition. I told him, it's that diet he's on. But Adam wouldn't listen.” Mann is a brand ambassador for Dr Raven Sable's diet and lifestyle products. Earlier this month, another Sable ambassador, Lilith Root, checked into an in-patient facility to begin treatment for an eating disorder. Sable's representatives have so far declined to comment on either incident, despite repeated invitations to do so. Mann is a dedicated charity campaigner, often urging his peers in the modelling industry to raise awareness and funds using the wry social media hashtag #NotJustAPrettyFace. In the few years since he rose to prominence, he has supported hundreds of charities ranging from local foodbank initiatives to global human rights and animal welfare concerns. “It‘s so like Adam,” our source told us, “to literally collapse in the middle of trying to help someone else. He always puts himself last. I really, really hope he’s OK.” It’s a sentiment that’s been echoed in Twitter threads and on message boards across the internet - including in the comments of Mann’s most recent Instagram post, which was uploaded just an hour before the livestream started. “Ready to take some questions, have some fun and raise some cash for a great cause,” said the caption. “Please Adam, look after yourself and get well soon. You’re so thin in this photo :( xxxx” replied a user with the handle @adamfann95, three hours later. Similar messages soon followed as news of Mann’s condition spread. At the time of Mann’s collapse, his charity livestream had raised over £15,000 for Lionheart, a charity dedicated to the care and protection of lions and other wild animals who’ve been illegally kept as pets. Since then, fans have continued to make donations in his name, and the charity is now set to receive over £38,000. “We wish Adam a very speedy recovery, and we hope he knows he’s always welcome to visit us at the Lionheart Sanctuary,” said Noah Shipman, the charity’s founder and chairman. “Thank you to all those who’ve donated; we firmly believe that these animals belong outside, not cooped up between four walls or in someone’s garden. Just like us, they like to roam! Thank you for helping us to save those poor creatures who’ve been put in a horrible position through no fault of their own.” At time of writing, there has been no update on Mann’s condition. MARY HODGES. [Image Description: a close-up of biblical Adam biting the apple, taken from the Good Omens TV show. End ID.] TAKEN ILL: Adam Mann, pictured above in an ad campaign for Dr Raven Sable’s CHOW nutritional lifestyle regime, was admitted to hospital on Friday evening (Image: QuiteUnlikely.net)

Centre left: Memory Lane: Tip from the Top The gunge plunge was a child's idea of justice, but it worked. They don't make children's telly like they used to. Before Peppa Pig and Shaun the Sheep, there was Superted and Maid Marian and Her Merry Men. Those shows have had their time, changed the genre for the better, and been consigned to history – and there's certainly an argument for reviving them. But one children's show that's going to be hard to replace is my old favourite, Tip from the Top. Hosted by Blue Peter alum Pat Maputi, the show was based on a simple, winning format; kids competed to score points, win prizes, and ultimately get the opportunity to drop their least favourite parent, guardian, teacher, or other adult into a pool of gunge and goo. Named for the chair that tilted forward and dislodged the unfortunate adult seated on it, the show might have been nothing more than a simple gameshow curiosity, but its concept of offering redress for the many perceived slights inflicted on kids by grown-ups made it a real treasure. To children of my generation, it was like a little revolution; when we were sent to our rooms unjustly, when we were kept behind after class, when we were made – horror of all horrors – to tidy our rooms, Tip from the Top offered the tantalising prospect of justice. Of course, all the adults on the show had agreed to be there, accepting the risk of being plunged into a thick layer of green slime. Pat Maputi was in league with the detention-givers and the room-senders all along. But as children, we didn't realise that; to us, Tip from the Top was the highest possible Court of Appeal. And for that, it will always be remembered fondly. Sadly, Tip from the Top was cancelled in 2000, a new millennium bringing a new wave of children's television to our screens. The focus of children’s programming began to shift towards a more fiction-heavy schedule, and some undoubtedly excellent shows came out of it. But perhaps, even after all these years, a reboot might not be too much to hope for – after all, children these days must have just as many complaints about their adult overlords as we did, back then. Clearly, somebody needs to give Pat a call and set the wheels of justice in motion once more. SARAH JEUNE. Memory Lane is our regular feature, looking back at the books, shows and films of yesteryear through a nostalgic lens. Do you miss something you’d like to see featured? Just send the show name (plus channel and airdates if you know them) in an email to: [email protected] - your prayers might just be answered!

Centre right: The Masked Singer Continues Did I really have a life before the live shows? It's only week three of The Masked Singer UK's first ever live series, and already I've forgotten what I used to do with my Saturday nights before it was on. Is it just me, or is anybody else having funny turns on the Tube, squinting suspiciously at strangers and wondering, “could it be you?” Of course, the likelihood of running into Apple, Axolotl, Black Cat, Bonfire, Goose, Pony, Snake, Squid, Sword or Teapot on my morning commute is vanishingly small, and they'd be unlikely to give themselves away if I did see them. But after a Saturday night spent hunting for the slightest clues and rummaging through my own brain for names, it's hard to turn those instincts off come Monday morning. Everybody seems to have a theory, of course, even at this early stage. My postman claims Apple has to be a tech mogul, my colleagues have a betting pool on which character turns out to be a former member of Blazin' Squad, and my dentist waited until she'd got the little mirror in my mouth to ask me if I thought Pony walked like a minister, whatever that means. Me? I have a few wild guesses, but I'd prefer to keep them to myself until we have a little more to go on. Many of our readers, I'm delighted to report, have far more faith in their own guessing ability, and we've collected some of the most interesting responses from the comments section of our website on the page opposite. Give it a read and tell us what you think – your comment might be featured next week! In the meantime, let me recap what we do know. Bell was unmasked in the first week, and turned out to be Sergeant Shadwell, a former soldier turned YouTuber. I am assured by my more online colleagues that he's known for debunking conspiracy theories, whatever urban exploration is, and occasionally looking for ghosts. Then, last week, we met and said goodbye to Ninja, who turned out to be none other than Esther James, England women's rugby captain. I never would have guessed, and I'm quite keen on rugby; identifying someone by their singing voice alone is much harder than it seems! I may not know who this year's contestants are, but I know I'll be on the edge of my seat all night waiting to find out. I'll be tuning in tonight for another live show; if you join me, don't forget to get in touch and tell us your best theories! EDWARD BIGGS. The Masked Singer UK will air live tonight at 7pm on ITV. Contact us via our website or at: [email protected] to share your thoughts and guesses. Ad (bottom third of the page): [Image Description: A banner ad with a black background. On the right is a photograph of Agnes Nutter as seen in Good Omens, demonstrating some serious side-eye. Overlaid is Agnes Nutter’s signature, followed by the words ‘DS member & Author’. On the left, bright yellow-green figures demonstrating various exercises - a football goalie making a save, a gymnast balancing on their hands, and a weightlifter - surround the main text. End ID.] Have you been skipping leg day? Come on down to DIVINATION STATION [the words ‘Divination Station’ are a graffiti-style logo] where fitness is fun! www.divinationstation.com

#disordered eating tw #eating disorder tw #masked omens #masked omens spoiler #mine #good omens fic #mo week three

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singulari-taee · 7 years ago

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Mr. Smartass [M]

What happens when you get partnered with know-it-all, Kim Namjoon, for a class project?

4k / smut / college!AU

“You will be partnered with...Namjoon Kim.”

Your professor’s words hung in the air, tension filling the large classroom.

Your fists clenched by your sides, trying your best to keep a neutral expression because you knew all eyes were on you, waiting for a reaction. Despite praying to be matched with your best friend, your professor’s “random” selection process had other plans. Just your luck, you had been partnered with the resident class know-it-all.

Just perfect.

Namjoon was an exchange student from South Korea that had come earlier in the semester, though you honestly wouldn’t have known he wasn’t born in the States because his accent was almost unnoticeable. There’s always been some palpable tension between the two of you, even dating back to the first day of class. Whenever you went to answer a question, he would refute it with some smartass comment. The two of you would go on for minutes, debating heatedly back and forth from across the classroom while everyone looked on like they were waiting for things to get violent (and it almost did, several times you had to stop yourself from throwing your textbook at his perfectly groomed head).

You both were undoubtedly the best students in the class, though, if Namjoon’s grade was even a decimal point higher, you knew it was because he kissed the professor’s ass way more than necessary.

Your professor continued reading the rest of the pairs from his list and you took a deep breath, thinking of ways to get out of this assignment.

“I’m expecting great things from you all,” he said, looking between you and Namjoon with a smile before sending a wink in your direction. Your jaw dropped; this was definitely a setup, “Class is dismissed! Don’t forget to meet up with your partners before you leave and exchange emails and phone numbers!” he called over the sound of thank you’s and chairs scraping against the floor. Putting your pride aside, you rose from your chair and walked to the other end of the room, rolling your eyes as you passed your best friend. She was gave you a pitiful smile as she spoke to her partner, a boy with a headful of greasy curls that covered half his face.

You finally made it over to him, and his eyes were trained on something he was reading on his phone.

“Namjoon,” you said cordially.

“Y/N,” he replied dryly, not even bothering to look up from the device.

“What’s your email?” you asked.

“I think phone numbers would be better. Faster communication is more efficient don’t you think?” he asked in that deep voice you hated so much, boastful eyes lifting to meet yours.

Your jaw clenched in annoyance and you painted on a smile, opting to keep it civil, “Sure.”

You traded phones and tapped your number into the sleek device, amazed. He had the same phone as you, except his was the newest model that had only been out for a couple days, if that. You’d heard that he was rich, which would explain how he managed to live in the best student apartments as a freshman. You had even seen him whip out of the student parking lot before in a rather expensive looking BMW, shades on as he looked in your direction haughtily before speeding off. Suddenly his arrogance had a lot more meaning.

He held your phone out with a limp wrist, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for you to finish typing. You scoffed at his nerve, taking even longer just to get under his skin. You snatched your phone away and put his on the desk instead of his waiting hand.

“I’ll call you, don’t call me,” you said turning on your heels and walking out of the class, leaving the boy dumbfounded.

You were splayed out on your bed, phone to your ear, “He’s such a smartass! ‘I think phone numbers would be better. Faster communication is more efficient’ like okay, maybe, but just shut up and take my email, asshole!” you ranted.

Your best friend snorted on the other line, “Be grateful, at least you got him and not Reeking Randall. He literally smells like piss and energy drinks, Y/N! I felt my nose hairs singe every time I tried to breathe,” she whined, “And I swear I saw him pick his nose and eat it when he thought I wasn’t looking.” You felt your phone buzz on your ear, and you looked at your screen in confusion at the message that flashed across it:

Namjoon: Let’s meet up in the library tonight at 10. Best to get an early start.

“What the hell?”

“Exactly!”

“No, guess who texted me?”

“Your mom…?”

“Mr. Smartass.”

“Shut up! What he say?”

“He wants to meet me at 10 in the library. It’s a Friday night and the project isn’t due for another week. I almost feel bad for him, he really must not have a life.”

“So what are you going to do?”

You stopped to reassess. While people were out at parties, here you were in your pajamas, sprawled out on your bed on the phone in a face mask. In all honestly, it didn’t look like you had much of a life right now either. And if you got most of the project done tonight, you wouldn’t have to see him again outside of class.

It was a win-win situation.

“I’ll do it,” you sighed into the other line as you typed

You: I told you not to call me.

Namjoon: Actually I’m not calling you, I’m texting you so :)

You: Calling was a general term, meaning don’t initiate communication with me via cellular device at all if you really want to get specific :)

Namjoon: Well here I am so :) You: :)

Namjoon: Look are you coming to the library at 10 yes or no?

You: Yeah

Namjoon: Great, bring your textbook, a notebook, and your laptop.

You: I was already going to so thanks for nothing

“You’re going? Wow, look at you being the bigger person,” she mused, “You might hate me for saying this but Namjoon is kinda...cute?”

You cringed, “I know you’re not talking about Sir. Know-it-all, smartass, ‘Well actually I read a study on that’, Namjoon Kim.”

“I don’t know, maybe it’s the height and the dimples that do it, but you have to say he’s not bad looking.”

“He’s nothing special,” you shrugged.

“Lie if you want to, but I have to go scam that sophomore Seokjin out of a free pizza. Have fun with Namjoon,” she said suggestively, and you knew she was wiggling her eyebrows.

“Not if I’m lucky,” you muttered before hanging up, staring up at your ceiling wondering why you agreed to join the devil himself.

At 9:50 you were approaching the library, hoodie pulled tightly as it was dotted with raindrops. You: I’m almost there, where are you? You typed.

Your phone buzzed a second later.

Namjoon: I’ve been here for the past 20 minutes. 4th floor.

You couldn’t help but laugh. Of course he was.

When you walked through the door of the grand building, you didn’t know what you were expecting. The entire place was a ghost town, no one there besides a couple dead looking desk workers, because nobody in their right mind would be at the library at 10 pm on a Friday if they didn’t absolutely have to be. You rode the elevator up, and when you turned the corner you saw Namjoon sitting alone at a table. His books were spread out in front of him as he typed something into his computer, a look of concentration etched onto his face. When he heard the ding of the elevator he looked at your approaching figure.

“You’re finally here,” he said. “What do you mean ‘finally’? I’m actually early,” you said.

“I’ve still been waiting for 20 minutes.” “You did that to yourself, Einstein,” you sat your backpack down on the floor and began taking your hoodie off.

Namjoon’s eyes scanned over your outfit silently as you unpacked your bag. You were wearing a V-neck t-shirt that dipped down low enough to show a hint of cleavage, and your favorite pair of leggings that hugged your curves snuggly. They were the first things at the top of your hamper and you threw them on without as much as a second thought. Namjoon averted his eyes when you sat down and looked at him.

“So I was thinking we could do our project on the role socioeconomic status plays in character development in early 1800s literature.”

His face scrunched up, “Nah, that’s like borderline high school level stuff. We have to dig deeper.” You rolled your eyes, “Okay then do you have any bright ideas?”

“I’m glad you asked that,” he said, pulling out a thick packet of printed sheets from a folder, “There. The portrayal of race relations in Korean War literature and how they differ between the States and Korea. See, its sophisticated and also challenges any preconceived notions.”

You held the heavy pages in your hand, “When did you have time to do all this research? We literally just got the assignment 2 days ago.”

He rolled his eyes, “Please, I saw this assignment on the syllabus at the beginning of the semester. I’ve had those pages for months.”

You huffed and slid the pages back across the table, “Why the hell do you have so much information? It’s a class project not a senior thesis, Jesus.” “I like to be thorough,” he said,

“Whatever, I still think my idea is better, it actually follows the prompt.”

“Well I know mine is better, so just go with it.”

“No,” you fought, “I even checked my subject with Professor Dawson during office hours and he said it was terrific, so why don’t you stop being difficult, listen to the man, and do it?” “Because unlike him, I won’t settle for your mediocrity.”

“Mediocrity? You want to know what was mediocre, Namjoon? Your in class response to Shakespeare's Sonnet 18, asshole.”

Namjoon put his tongue in his cheek, annoyed. You folded your arms and smirked, “Look, I’m doing our project on race relations. Now you can do your little ‘Intro to 10th Grade English’ project if you want, but I’m doing my own thing.”

“Well fine! Make it harder for yourself, I’m doing our project the way I want.”

“Fine!”

You both went silent as you began typing furiously at your laptops, the 4th floor filled with the sounds of tapping keys and angrily scribbled notes. Never in your life had you met someone as full of himself as the boy sitting across from you. Who knew the rich kid with the personality of a wet gym sock could make your blood boil this way.

As you typed fervently, you looked across your computer at him. He was concentrated, his face scrunched up, revealing the dimples your best friend had mentioned earlier. You had never been this close to him for this long before, and wondered how you had missed this feature altogether. As he took notes, you watched how his slender fingers held the pencil, the veins across his arms showing as the tool danced across the page. He wore a tan, long sleeved cotton shirt and sweatpants, 2 very out of character wardrobe pieces for him. Namjoon never came to class in anything more casual than a button up, wanting to make a ‘good impression’. The way the material clung to his body was almost...attractive?

You had to reel yourself back in. Namjoon? Attractive? You had to admit, the boy wasn’t ugly, nowhere near it. But his wise guy personality took him down a few notches in your eyes. If he didn’t act the way he did, the two of you probably would be friends right now, instead of working separately on a partner project that was worth 20% of your final grades.

His glasses hung on the tip of his nose, giving him a look that could only be described as sophisticated yet sexy. You almost slapped yourself. You attributed your unacceptable thirst to the fact that it was a Friday night and you were horny, and instead of getting some, you were stuck in a library with this asshole.

But even you had to admit, he did look really good tonight--

“Enjoying the view?” he asked, eyes boring into yours over his glasses.

“Hardly,” you said, straightening up. You realized you had been biting your lip the entire time.

“Whatever you say. How’s your research coming along?”

“Perfect, I have two more sources to find and then I should be in the final stages, you?”

“I’m done.”

You stared blankly, “Done? How the hell are you already done with a 6 page paper and an entire powerpoint presentation?” “I work quickly, efficiently, thoroughly,” he shrugged, “That’s probably why I have the highest average in the class.”

He said that knowing it would strike a chord with you, and he smirked when he saw your expression darken, “You say that like you’re so sure.”

“I am,” he said, “Why else would Professor Dawson recommend me for that upcoming summer internship,” you bust out laughing, throwing your head back obnoxiously, “What’s so funny?”

“The fact that you think you’re special,” you said, “He also recommended me for that internship, and for a tutoring job in the department next semester.”

“You? A tutor? My prayers are with those kids and their GPAs.”

“Fuck you”

“Wouldn’t you like to,” he replied.

You chuckled, your subconscious beating away the thoughts that swooned at the idea.

“Woah, you are so full of yourself! No thank you, I’ll pass.”

“The way you were just staring holes into my face says otherwise,” he challenged. “I was trying to decide the best way to kill you and make it look like an accident. Right now I’m up to 3 ideas.”

“Whatever, all the other girls want a piece of this, it’s okay to be a fan.”

“A piece of what?” you asked, looking around the library, “I can’t find anything anyone would want a piece of.” “The girls love me.”

“Sounds fake but okay,” you said, shaking your head.

“What about you? I don’t see any boys lining up to court you.” “You don’t have to see it, just know it’s actually happening unlike the little delusion you’re living.”

“Sounds fake but okay,” he mocked.

“If you get a girl you probably don’t know how to keep her satisfied long enough to stay,” you said matter of factly.

“I don’t know how to keep a girl satisfied?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.

You nodded, “You seem like the type that when a girl gives you directions on how to touch her, you’d be like ‘I know what I’m doing’ and she never cums because you can’t follow simple instructions.”

“Wrong, I always put my partner’s pleasure first,” he corrected, “Shows you how much you know about me.”

Your eyebrow raised involuntarily, “Do you really?”

“Like I said, I work thoroughly,” he winked, “in all aspects.”

His words stayed suspended as the two of you stared at each other. His dimples showed once again as he smiled at your dumbfounded expression. You could feel your face heating up at the prolonged silence as you thought over his words.

All aspects. Oh God, it was too late and you were too horny for this.

Your legs clenched together as you took in his perfect teeth and deep dimples, feeling the butterflies in your stomach morph into a restless feeling in your core. How could he be smart, rich, and good looking? It just wasn’t fair.

You tried to busy yourself with whatever was on your laptop, but you could feel his eyes on you. You didn’t dare to look up, or you knew you’d be done for. He looked over you again, taking in the way your eyes scanned over your screen as you refused to look at him. The left out curls from your messy bun fell into your face, making you look almost dainty. He would be lying if he said you weren’t cute. Sure, you had a smart mouth, but no other girl ever had a comeback for the things he said like you did. It was kind of refreshing. His eyes went down to your shirt, zoning in on the way your exposed chest looked as your arms pushed your boobs together. Did you always have boobs? It was kind of hard to notice when you were screaming at each other across the classroom.

You decided it to risk it just once. You looked up for a second, and when you did, you saw that his eyes were trained on your exposed cleavage and you immediately sat up straight and crossed your arms. Your chair scratched against the floor loudly as you backed away and stood up, “I’m going to go look for more sources,” you muttered before walking away.

Namjoon watched you retreat, vision trained on your ass and the sway of your hips in your leggings. His sweatpants suddenly felt tighter. Unsure of what possessed him in that moment, he placed his glasses on the table and followed you.

You internally screamed at yourself, wondering how of all people, resident class smartass Kim Namjoon was making you all hot and bothered tonight. Just minutes ago you were fighting like cats and dogs and then suddenly you were talking about sexual pleasure. Flustered beyond words, you walked to the very last shelf in the back of the floor.

In the quiet, you heard footsteps come up behind you, and suddenly the dusty books on the shelves were incredibly interesting. You kept your eyes trained on them, but by the sound of it, he was standing directly behind you in the tight space.

“Why are you following me? I thought you were done,” you said in a more timid voice than you’d like.

“Just looking around.”

You ignored him, and continued to comb through the texts, still aware of how close he was. Out of nowhere, he came up even closer behind you, reaching over your head for a book with his chest pressed against your back.

You froze, “You’re so close,” you said dumbly.

“You don’t want me to be?” he asked, mouth pressed against your ear.

You had forgotten how deep his voice was, the sound like honey as it sent a shiver up your spine, your breathing shallow. If you weren’t mistaken, you could feel his length on your butt through his sweatpants. Slowly, you turned around to meet his stare. You had never seen that look in his eyes before, the only way to describe it was hungry. Your eyes shifted down to his plump lips. They looked so soft, and from the feeling in your core you could tell you were craving some part of him. He looked at you, waiting for permission to push forth, and you nodded, meeting his lips in the middle. Almost immediately it was a fight for dominance. He held the nape of your neck as he deepened the kiss, you gripping his hair to get a better angle. He pushed you against the bookshelf, hearing some books hit the floor in the process. His lips were as soft as they looked and you absolutely despised him for it. You were angry now, how was he also a good kisser? You wondered how this was happening, and most importantly, why you were actually kissing him back and enjoying it.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you manage to get out, grabbing his shoulders and pushing him to the opposite shelf.

“And you don’t know when to shut the fuck up,” he growled.

He grabbed your leg and hoisted it up to his side roughly. Your foot was on the shelf as he grabbed your ass in his hand, squeezing it and eliciting a moan out of you even though you tried to choke it back. You hated the way he got this reaction out of you.

“You like that?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you responded. You began to grind your hips into his bulge, and when you heard him hiss you smiled in satisfaction. He squeezed your ass again, this time smacking it loudly. You clutched onto him as you moaned again, “Fuck you,” you said, grinding deeper into him.

All of his touches were rough, harsh in his attempt to gain control over the situation. But by how hard he was already, it was obvious he was losing the battle. He paused for a second as he got an idea.

Suddenly, the hand that was on your ass disappeared, and found itself playing with the hem of your leggings. Before you knew it, it was already dipping inside your underwear.

“Lace, my favorite,” he commented.

“I didn’t put it on for you, don’t be so cocky.”

You felt his long fingers touch your clit and you flinched at the sudden sensation, “Wait there’s probably cameras everywhere.”

“I’m 90% positive there’s no working cameras up here. And even if there were who’s checking them?”

You remembered the workers at the desk from earlier. You knew they had monitors to check the cameras on every floor, but whether or not they were for show you weren’t sure. But if you two were being watched, they sure were awake now.

Though, when you felt him circle around your clit with his index finger, suddenly none of it mattered anymore.

His fingers played back and forth over your slit, all the while he stood kissing and sucking at the sensitive parts of your neck. Your mouth was open, reveling in the feeling. You were dripping now, all you wanted was to feel him inside of you. As if on queue, he slipped two fingers into your wet core. You gasped and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“No warning?!”

“Oops,” he said.

He began to pump his digits slowly, testing the waters and watching your face for a reaction. You tried to keep it expressionless, but you couldn’t help it when your eyes rolled to the back of your head. How was he good at this too?

“Faster,” you breathed.

He pumped in and out of you quickly, his fingers curling inside. Your breathing was shallow, and your grip on him was getting tighter and tighter. You knew you would be unwinding any second now if he kept it up like this.

He began to move his fingers in a ‘come hither’ motion, right at your g-spot and you moaned loudly in the near silent floor.

“Be quiet!”

“Make me!” you challenged.

With his free hand, he covered your mouth, still fingering you hard and deep to silence the moaning mess you had become. It was all too much, and with your leverage, you rode his fingers, swiveling your hips around them as he bit his lip. He used his thumb to rub your swollen clit and you knew it was over.

“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you gasped.

“Cum for me, baby.”

Grinding onto his palm one last time, you came undone. You tightened around him, shaking as you saw stars.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” was all you could say as you came down from your high, breathing heavily. That was the best orgasm you've ever had with anyone, period, “I’ll give it to you, you are thorough.”

“Wow you’re finally admitting I’m good at something?”

You shrugged, “I guess you do know how to do more than be a smartass.”

He pulled his long fingers out of you, looking you in the eyes and sucking them dry. His tongue went in between the digits to get every last drop. Your mouth opened in shock.

“Just being thorough,” he said.

“Excuse me,” said a voice, making you untangle yourself from Namjoon and jump back, “Whoever is behind the bookshelf, just make sure you clean up after yourself. I don’t get paid enough to deal with bodily fluids.”

You held your mouth as your face heated up in embarrassment, Namjoon staring like a deer in the headlights, unsure of your next move. You looked over at the wall clock: 12:05. You had forgotten...the school cleaning crew came at midnight.

“I let you all finish, I know you’re back there, don’t be all shy now!”

You and Namjoon sighed before walking out from behind the bookshelf, coming face to face with a middle aged woman that looked like she had had enough of this shit. You smiled apologetically as you walked past, darting to the table to pack up your stuff and make it to the elevator. You hurried inside, slamming the close button and sinking against the walls as you broke out into laughter.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you said.

“Me neither,” Namjoon said breathing heavily, dimples showing full force.

He reached out and grabbed your hand, lacing your fingers. You let it happen, feeling warm and fuzzy when he touched you so simply. You both looked down at your hands, wondering why it just felt so good.

The door dinged as you made it to the first floor.

“So what now? We still have to finalize the project,” he said.

“The night is young, we could go to my place…”

“Oh really?” he asked lifting a brow and pulling you closer.

“Let me show you how thorough I can be.”

#that was my first time writing a smutty story omg #bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfction #bts smut #bts one shot #bts namjoon #namjoon #kim namjoon #bts angst #bts fluff #kpop fanfiction #kim seokjin

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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Cemetery Boys: A Conversation with YA Author Aiden Thomas

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Aiden Thomas’ upcoming YA debut, Cemetery Boys, is not only breaking new ground when it comes to explorations of trans identity and Latinx culture, it’s also a riveting, romantic read filled with paranormal wonder. The #OwnVoices novel follows Yadriel, a trans boy determined to prove his gender to his traditional Latinx family, who all happen to be brujx, with the ability to see spirits. When Yadriel’s cousin is murdered, Yadriel decides to solve the mystery of what happened as a way to convince his family to accept his identity as a brujo. But when, instead of summoning the ghost of his cousin, Yadriel accidentally summons the ghost of (very cute) school “bad boy” Julian, who refuses to leave, Yadriel’s mission becomes much more complicated… especially once he realizes he might not want Julian to go.

We had the chance to talk with Thomas to find out what it was like to build the world of Cemetery Boys and its characters, the novel’s ambitions as “empowering escapism for marginalized readers,” and what it’s like writing during 2020.

Note: This interview has been edited for length and clarity.

Den of Geek: This is a very broad, generic question, but do you remember where the idea for this story first started? Was it a character? Was it a scene? Was it a feeling? Can you think back to that moment of inspiration?

Aiden Thomas: I know the exact moment of inspiration for the book itself. On Tumblr I follow a lot of writing prompt blogs, and one of the blogs posted just a sentence prompt, and the prompt was, “What would you do if you summoned a ghost and you couldn’t get rid of it?” And you see people commenting and stuff and they’re like, “Oh, this super spooky, scary thing.” And I was like, “Okay, but what if he was cute?” And so that’s where the idea came from.

And then I was like, “OK, well, if we’re talking about death and magic, what does that mean to me?” And, as a Latinx person, death and magic is Día de Muertos, right? Day of the Dead. So from there I was like, “Okay, yeah. This could totally work.”

The real inspiration for how the magic system works and the rules and everything that’s laid out is intrinsically related to Día de Muertos. All of the magic stuff that happens in Cemetery Boys revolves around our actual beliefs about how the afterlife works and what Día de Muertos means and bringing our ancestors back. So it was kind of just taking all of this magic around Día de Muertos and just making it literal magic.

So you have this initial idea. (Thank you, Tumblr.) How long ago was that, and what did the process, the evolution of that idea look like? Was it fast? Was it slow?

Oh my gosh. Yeah. Technically Cemetery Boys was actually my option book. The first book that I wrote and sold is Lost in the Never Woods, which is coming out in 2021. So I got all the way through two copy edits for Lost in the Never Woods and then I started bugging my editor. I was like, “Option books, what do you think about that? When do we start talking about that?” And she was like, “Okay, Aiden. There’s no rush. If you want to kick me some ideas, go ahead.” And I was like, “Okay!” And so it was really funny because I believe I sent her five ideas. One of them was like, here’s a full outline, I have 50 pages written, and here’s a synopsis. And then as the ideas went they just kind of got smaller and less detailed. And Cemetery Boys was the last one. And it was, I think, a paragraph, maybe a paragraph and a half. And most of them ended in question marks, the sentences. Because I was like, “Well, maybe it could be this.” And the other thing is that I was really nervous about pitching a book with a trans character and that was entirely Latinx.

The whole book is an entirely Latinx cast. So I always find that kind of funny looking back on it that I was asking permission, to like, “Can I write this? Is this okay? Am I allowed to do this? Seriously, not a big deal. Just maybe.” And then so when she replied, she was like, “Yeah, that’s the one that we want!” And I was like, “Really! Okay.” And then so they needed it fast-drafted. So this is kind of a crazy story. Not last November, but the November before that is when I pitched the idea, and then we got the contract signed. And so it was January where I actually started writing it. It was sold on, what is it called? It was sold with just the synopsis and I think 25 pages or whatever. So I had to actually write the book. I had to write it in six weeks.

Wow.

Yeah. I wrote the rough draft in six weeks. And pretty quickly after my editor got that first draft she was like, “We think that this should be your debut instead.” And I was like, “Ugh, God!” I was like, “Okay.” Even though I went through all this work with the other book. So it was super fast tracked. And, gosh, when did I send it off to copy edits? Everything was done super quickly in like six months or something, which was a crazy turnaround time compared to Lost in the Never Woods, which I wrote during grad school, so it was like three years and then a year of doing edits with my editor. So it was super crazy. It was a very quick turnaround.

Well, you did it!

You mentioned when you were sending those initial pitches that you were already kind of not even totally allowing yourself permission to lead with this even. For a variety of reasons. And I’m curious, during the process of writing it, did you feel yourself having to push back against that? I don’t know, feeling like you have to reel it back in from the story you truly want to tell because you’re afraid it won’t ever make it to readers? Did that continue as you were writing?

Not so much in the terms of like, “How queer could I make this? How brown can I make this?” I kind of just went full into it as soon as they gave me permission. Then I was like, “Okay, well you already paid me, so here I go!” You know? I think where I got the most anxiety around it was I was really concerned about writing a depiction of whether it’s of someone who’s gay, of someone who’s trans, and/or someone who’s Latinx was that some kind of my internalized “isms” and phobias would come out onto the page and be harmful to young readers. That is what held me up the most and caused me a lot of anxiety. So that was really difficult, and when it came time to start going to copy edits, I emailed my editor and I was like, “I really feel like I need authenticity readers.” I was like, “I know that I’m literally every part of this character’s identity, but I’m really worried about me writing something that’s accidentally problematic. And they were super receptive, and I think I got three sensitivity readers for the main parts that I wanted to hit.

And they did catch a couple of things. Nothing major, but small things that you just don’t realize. And I think sometimes marginalized creators, they’re like, “Well, this is my truth, so I can write it. I don’t need anyone else to double check me,” or whatever. But for me, that was really important, because I was really, really worried about it.

I was going to ask you about authenticity readers. What was the process like for finding people?

The people I found were on Twitter. So, Twitter’s been a huge resource. I didn’t join Twitter until I sold my first book. And then all of a sudden I was like, “Oh, there’s an entire writing community here. Go figure.” So what I did was that I was basically scrolling through Twitter and people that I follow. I found one person, and I was like, “Great, that fills this one section.” But I still had these other two, so I actually put out a call on my Twitter, and I was like, “Hey, I’m looking for some authenticity readers in these sections, and this is the experience that I’m looking at.” Instead of just having random people being like, “Oh, well I’m brown, so I can read it.” And then I found people super quick, and I sent them to my editor, and then my editor reached out to them. So it was actually pretty easy, especially on Twitter. The community is so responsive and those LinkedIn type connections almost really, really helped find those authenticity readers. It was awesome.

Your characters and your community that you’re mostly featuring here are bilingual. But you’re also writing this book in part for people who don’t speak Spanish. I’m curious what it was like balancing that. And again, making sure it maybe is marketable to a certain extent versus staying true to the experience of these characters and for those readers who also live in a bilingual, in their community. Making sure they see some sort of authenticity on that as well.

Yeah, it’s almost about accessibility, is what we’re talking about. Having those experiences and those words even being accessible to people who speak Spanish and people who speak English and people who do both. And for me, I pretty unapologetically use a lot of Spanish in a way that I thought was realistic to when I was growing up and living around families and how the younger generations tend to use more English and then use more Spanish around their families. And so for me, it was more of a challenge in craft. What I did is that I very unapologetically used Spanish, but when I do that I am hopefully careful to give enough context clues so that even if you have no idea what those words mean, you understand the meaning and the thought behind it. So even if you don’t know explicitly what a sentence means, judging by the character’s reactions or internal monologue, that point gets across either way. So you can absolutely go ahead and Google it if you want to, but it’s also there. That was something very conscious I did going through the process being like, “Okay, I need to make sure that I’m writing this in a way that it’s accessible from all kinds of readers.”

I’m curious about the decision to set the book in east L.A. Was it always set there?

Yes, it was always in east L.A. I was born and raised in Oakland, California, so I spent pretty much my whole life in California. I moved up here three and a half years ago. And what I love so much about east L.A. is that it reminds me a lot of Oakland in terms of socioeconomic status and definitely in community. It’s super diverse, and east L.A. is kind of like a central hub that a lot of Latinx communities gravitate towards to. And it’s not necessarily just one Latinx community. And for me, it was really important that the brujx were this conglomeration of multiple different Latinx identities. I didn’t want it to be just one, because I wanted this whole myth and this magic to supersede the creation of countries. It’s very much just Mesoamerican.

So east L.A. is really the perfect place for that, and I wanted to touch base on things like kids who are living on the poverty line and kids who are living on the streets. And for me all of those things, it just screamed east L.A. and I love east L.A. is the other thing, is that it’s a very dear place to me in my heart. So I was like, “Yeah, let me write this little love letter to east L.A. and show others.” That city can be so stereotyped by people and I really wanted to break down some of those barriers and show how really beautiful it is. And the community there is just so incredible.

I’m curious if your experiences as an EMT informed this story at all.

Yeah, that’s really funny. Being an EMT in Oakland, it was a crash course in a lot of things. And a big part of it was what it means to serve your community and what your community looks like. Especially in times of dire stress. So, yeah that definitely informed it. I feel like anytime I tell EMT stories I just traumatize my family. So I’m trying to think, “Well, how can I?” But I had a lot of experiences as an EMT, when you show up on scene, especially when there’s kids involved, that you really see the bad things. Like the panic and stuff like that, but also the coming together of a community. I’m a pretty literal, logical person, but there’s some things that I saw that happened when I was an EMT when there was just like a miracle, but I know that those aren’t a thing. But it’s like, well some kind of magic happened there, because that’s crazy! One time I had a child who was going, basically, and the grandmother pushed through and put her hand on him and started praying and then he came back. And I was like, “What the heck is happening!”

So it’s like that kind of magic, you know what I mean? So stuff like that definitely inspired it. And I’ve always been very community focused. That’s why I liked being an EMT so much. And so again, it kind of comes back to that love of the community, which is what Cemetery Boys is for me.

Yeah, it’s nice to get these stories that, I don’t know, there’s so many “chosen one” stories in our mainstream culture. And that’s not normally how positive change seems to happen in the world.

Cemetery Boys features a Latinx, gay, trans boy protagonist. A first in the YA space. And I think a lot of people have already noted or assumed that this is going to be a story that for a lot of different people, they see parts of their identity reflected back for the first time maybe in a mainstream cultural space. And I’m curious if you can remember the first time you felt that in any way, one of your identities reflected back in a mainstream story for maybe the first time in either a big or small way.

Yeah. It’s funny because I get that question a lot. And when I first started answering, it was kind of like, “When was the first time you saw yourself represented in media?” And for a very long time I was like, “Ugh, I just got to come up with something.” Like, “I’ll just pull this one, I don’t know!” And then I was like, “Well, Aiden, you know what? That’s actually a valid thing to discuss.” So I have never seen myself reflected in media. My whole self, rather. And so when I wrote Cemetery Boys, I was like, “Yeah, let’s have it be all of me.” For me, I was like, “I’m writing this because I haven’t seen myself. So now I’m going to see myself.” And then other people can see themselves who are like me. I didn’t really think of it as, “Oh, this is going to be the first of that.” Until ARCs started going out, and then people were like, “Oh, the first one.” And I was like, “Oh no, I didn’t want that!” I was like, “Wait, no! It’s far too much stress. Too much pressure.” So that was challenging and terrifying.

But as far as parts of my identity goes, Anna-Marie McLemore, their books have absolutely spoken to me. I actually have a stack of them right next to me with all my other books. When the Moon Was Ours in particular, that one was the first time, was definitely the first time I’d ever seen a trans boy in a book, and that was really cool, and it was by a Latinx author, so that was the closest I’ve gotten to and it was life changing, of course. And that’s a pretty recent book. So it’s not like I was a teenager being like, “Oh, finally. Here I am.” I was like, “No, I’m a grown ass adult looking at this teenager in a book.” And I’m like, “Oh my God, finally!” It does feel important to have that answer, create that space for being like, “I haven’t seen myself fully.”

Did you always know this was a love story?

Oh, yeah. I guessed that as soon as I saw that prompt. And I was like, “But then what if you fell in love with the ghost and he was really cute?” So, yeah, it was definitely always a love story. That maybe even came before I figured out what the plot was. And Julian’s character has been a character that I’ve played with in short stories and stuff for 15 years. So that was very easy, coming up with the love interest. I was like, “I already know who he is.” I need to meet Yadriel, though.

Yeah, so that’s always interesting. Especially when it’s your main character. I feel like they’re the hardest to get into their heads and really understand who they are, because you’re not just thinking about what they’re projecting as in a love interest or secondary characters. You’re in their head. So it’s a lot more complicated.

Okay, well I want to talk about the book cover, because it’s amazing. Can you talk about the process of having it happen?

Yeah, totally. When it came time for figuring out the book covers, at that point, sorry I just did something weird. It was like shaking at me. For the cover, I think it was around where we started going to copy edits. They were like, “Oh, we’re going to kick you some artists.” And I was like, “Okay.” I was kind of stressed out about the cover, because I’ve heard so many horror stories from people being like, “Oh my God, it went so wrong. And I hate my cover.” And for Swoon Reads, typically the public gets to vote on the cover, so you really don’t have any say. But for Cemetery Boys, they decided that they weren’t going to do the cover voting, that they just wanted to create a cover and they were really cool about letting me be part of that process. And so the first thing that they did that surprised me was that they emailed me and they were like, “Hey Aiden, we’re moving towards working on the cover. Here’s some cover artists, can you tell us who you’d most like to work with?” And I was like, “Okay, cool.”

So even before I opened it, when I very first started drafting Cemetery Boys, I found Mars Lauderbaugh on Tumblr, and I followed them because I was obsessed with their fan art of Haikyuu and Voltron. And so I had actually commissioned them to do character art back when Cemetery Boys wasn’t even a thing. So I was emailing Mars, I was like, “Hello, I’m a writer, and can you draw my [original characters] for me?” And Mars was like, “Sure, yeah. Here you go.” And then it kind of progressed and I was like, “Hey, it’s getting turned into a book, could you do my character art for me?” And they were like, “Oh, yeah.” And then when I got this list of artists, the first thing that I noticed, which was so cool, was that Macmillan/Swoon had only picked artists who were artists of color and/or trans. And that was amazing and blew my mind. And then I saw that they had included Mars on the list because they had seen the character art, and so I was like, “Yes, yes! Please, Mars, Mars, Mars!” And then so they reached out to Mars, and Mars became my cover artist, and now all of my swag and stuff matches and it just blew my mind. There was three original versions of the cover, so I got to see what those looked like. And they picked my favorite one. Yeah, it was so cool.

And I was nerding out so bad. And being in publishing, I’m very much of the mind of as I’m entering this space, I’m trying to wedge open the door and sneak in as many other people as I can. So being able to take Mars, who is doing commissions for fan art, and being able to get them a book cover deal was really important to me. And that was definitely a highlight. I have the best cover ever. It could not be better.

So had they never done a book cover before?

No, they hadn’t.

Wow.

And they recently got an agent. It’s all very exciting.

Do you think there are other stories you’d like to tell in this world?

Definitely, yeah. When I come up with ideas and stuff, my brain just explodes and splinters out. So there’s definitely other stories that I would like to tell in this world. There’s a couple of side characters that I’m particularly attached to that I would like to explore more. I can’t say any spoilers, but I would definitely like to do a book focused on Julian even. Because, at the end of Cemetery Boys, he goes through some stuff, and it’d be really interesting to see what happens after that. So yeah, there’s always ideas. Definitely. For sure.

I think most of us are aware that a lot of things are hitting differently right now because the world’s different than it was six months ago. Do you think Cemetery Boys is going to hit differently in the world it’s coming into than the one that maybe you imagined it would be released into?

Yeah, that’s a really good question. Yeah, it’s been kind of strange. In terms of hitting different and what the market is being for, or even what readers would like, I think Cemetery Boys is definitely… It’s funny, because it deals with death and murder and stuff like that, but it’s also very lighthearted. And I would hope funny. So I’m hoping that even with all of this going on, I wrote Cemetery Boys to begin with to be a bit of empowering escapism for marginalized readers. Because even before all this, those readers have it so rough and deal with so much hate on a near constant basis. Now multiply, what, times 10, times 100. So what I am hoping is that now Cemetery Boys is even more important in terms of providing some escapism, some release. But also giving those marginalized readers a story where they see themselves as being incredibly powerful, supported, but very importantly, being loved. Even if isn’t necessarily by people who are supposed to be there for them all the time. So even if it’s not their family, found family is important, your friends are still important. So I really hope that Cemetery Boys will be able to provide some comfort, honestly. And I think now more than ever that’s especially important for young readers, for sure.

I’m curious how your writing is going right now during this strange and often upsetting time. Has that made you want to write more? Has it led to you writing less? Has it changed the kind of things you’re writing, or how you write?

Yeah, that’s a great question. I think when I’m on Tumblr, not Tumblr, oh now I’m just talking about Tumblr all the time! When I’m on Twitter I get a weird sense of guilt or like I’m not responding the way that everyone else is, because I feel like on Twitter a lot of authors like, “I can’t write anything. How could you possibly write anything right now?” And for me, I drafted a whole other book during quarantine, or finished drafting it anyways. And so I felt weird while I was doing that, because I was like, “Oh, am I not doing this correctly? Am I being an asshole or something?” Because I’m not being super impacted by everything that’s going on. That was kind of stressful, but I finished that draft and to preface, I work in tech. My company shut down, or switched to working from home in mid March, and we’re not opening up for several months as of yesterday. So I’ve been kind of sequestered. This is my entire apartment. I live in a studio. It’s 500 square feet.

Yeah, I’ve just been here. And once I finished drafting that book, I was like “Okay!” And then off it goes to my CPs. And it was like the next day where I realized that writing that book and having that focus had my energies. A lot of other stuff wasn’t getting through, because I was hyper focused. And then as soon as I sent it off and I didn’t have that project to work on, I had three days of just really bad anxiety. And I was like, “Why do I feel so terrible? Why do I feel like I’m stuck in my fight or flight response?” And then I realized, it’s because being so focused on that book was protecting me and distracting me. And then once that was gone, then I was being hit by all these feels that everyone else has been hit by. So that’s been wild. And then so I was like, “Okay, I can recognize that this is what’s happening.” So I started picking up other projects. So I was like, “Okay! Time to distract myself.” Yeah, totally. Right. So it’s definitely had an impact, but as far as impacting my writing, my writing has actually been helping me get through it.

And I’m a really intense outliner. For my project I just finished the rough draft of, the outline was over 100 pages. So having that really strict structure of being like, “This is what’s happening next.” It’s not turning my brain off, but it’s like I don’t have to get lost. I can follow this path, I can stay on track and be focused. So that’s actually helped me during all of this.

And what are you a fan of right now? Or what are you escaping into, if anything? Other than your work.

Animal Crossing has been a big one!

Popular one.

Yeah. Animal Crossing‘s been great. I’ve got a couple of ARCs that I need to read. So those are on the docket. Those are next to my bed right now. And I have been binging a lot of Netflix. I am on the third season of Hannibal and I just started it maybe a month ago and I’m obsessed.

So good.

So good!

Have you watched Killing Eve?

I have! Yeah, I’ve watched, I think maybe the first season. And I need to pick it back up. I just randomly fell off.

I’m also obsessed with Hill House on Netflix. I love it so much. But how my friend talked me into watching Hannibal is they were like, “It’s very similar to Hill House. They’re both really stunning and really creepy.” And I was like, “Oh, okay. Well, when you put it that way, I’ll try it.” And now I’m super obsessed with Hannibal.

Thank you so much for talking with me. This has been a lot of fun.

Yeah, this was super awesome!

I’m excited to finish the book. It’s already brought joy into my life, so thank you for writing it.

Oh, I’m so glad. Thank you!

Cemetery Boys will be out on September 1st, but is now available for pre-order (which are super important). You can find out more about the book here. And find out more about Aiden Thomas’ work here. If you’d like to hear more from Aiden Thomas’ about Cemetery Boys, I recommend this expansive, insightful interview with Adriana on YouTube channel Perpetual Pages.

The post Cemetery Boys: A Conversation with YA Author Aiden Thomas appeared first on Den of Geek.

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allofbeercom · 6 years ago

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Susan Hill: ‘I am not pro-Trump! Really? Do people think that of me?’

The novelist caused a stir this week by accusing a bookshop of anti-Trump censorship. Even Michael Gove waded in. But shed rather talk about her new book, and leaving her husband of 40 years for a woman

Susan Hill barrels around the corner to our table, which is tucked away in a noisy alcove of the bar at the Covent Garden hotel in London. She looks pleased to see me, if a little apprehensive. That is not surprising: this week, she set off a storm of outrage that had her running for cover as much from her publishers, Chatto & Windus, as from the keyboard critics who piled in on social media.

In an article in the Spectator, she announced that she had pulled out of an event because the bookshop concerned was promoting anti-Trump authors. It was not: the Book Hive in Norwich, which outed itself as the target for Hills ire, was merely the conduit for novels about totalitarianism donated by a local reading group as gifts for customers. The books included George Orwells Nineteen Eighty-Four and Margaret Atwoods The Handmaids Tale.

Hill sits down with a thump. She is a small woman who wears her peppered hair cut short. How are you? I ask. Although in emails the day before she was adamant that the Book Hive debacle is off the agenda, she seems relieved by the question. One small article and the world went mad, she says, clutching at a necklace of oversized turquoise beads. Have they got nothing else to worry about?

It sounds disingenuous. I look the 75-year-old writer of The Woman in Black in the eye; she returns my gaze steadily. No, she says, to my unasked question: surely someone who has written more than 30 books, from ghost stories to crime novels, short-story collections and literary novels, cannot be naive to the impact of an article in a national magazine denouncing an independent bookseller? She drums her fingers on the metal table. I dont want to talk about that, because this is not about that and the publishers will kill me, she snaps back. In an instant she adds: Frankly, the less oxygen you give it Her initial bluster disappears with a sigh, like air from a balloon. Its all about nothing. Has nothing happened in the world that people go crazy?

The spat has shaken her, however, and although she has told me she will not talk about it, she alludes to it throughout the interview with shoulder shrugs, sighs and comments. Before we part, she says of the Book Hive proprietor, Henry Layte: If he rang up and said, will you come and talk to us, of course I would. Only if he said he wanted me to. I wouldnt want to walk in there uninvited. She adds hastily: I dont suppose he would let me in his shop.

But she has not invited me to London to talk about that, she insists. She wants to talk about her new novel, From the Heart. A slight tale of 211 pages, it is a coming-of-age story set in the early 1960s. Olive Piper is an awkward and bookish teenager whose escape from home is blighted by an unplanned pregnancy and then a doomed love affair with another woman. It is written in the Whitbread winners characteristically pared-down style not a word wasted which adds great impact to the books two big reveals.

And there is one particular aspect of the novel Hill particularly wishes to talk about: Pipers love affair with another woman, because it has parallels with her own life. The unexpected happened to me: I fell in love with another woman who fell in love with me. The woman is screenwriter and producer Barbara Machin, creator of Waking the Dead, for whom Hill left her husband of almost 40 years, the respected Shakespeare scholar Stanley Wells, six years ago.

Taking a sip of ginger beer with lots of ice, she begins to say more, but her words are drowned out by the clatter of empty champagne bottles being upended into an ice bucket at the bar, followed by the loud rasp of the cappuccino machine. She throws a sharp look at the barman and we wait in silence until the noise subsides. The love affair with Machin bloomed over drinks in Cotswold pubs, where the two would meet to discuss the screenwriters adaptation of Hills Serrailler series for ITV. We had met in Cheltenham because I was doing some gigs at the festival, Hill recalls. Although she regarded her future lover as a very nice woman when they met, she says she was just shellshocked at the gradual dawning of a love affair.

She says it was her first adventure into same-sex relationships apart from a crush shared with other girls on a geography teacher at her Scarborough convent school. She got married and we were all devastated. For a moment her voice, from which Yorkshire has long since been scooped out, becomes wistful. It absolutely never crossed my mind that I had any attraction for women or was attracted to women, she adds. Three years before marrying Stanley, her heart was broken when her fiance, David Lepine, the organist at Coventry Cathedral, died suddenly of a heart attack in 1972. He was the love of my life, she says, and insists that throughout her long and happy marriage she never had an inkling that she might not be straight.

You fall in love with the person, she says, with another twist of the beads. That person could be the same sex or the opposite sex, but you fall for that person. And I felt very much that [Barbara] was somebody whom I liked. Machin was very warm and attractive, she continues, then laughs. The woman thing, I thought, Heavens! Her eyes pop at the idea.

Photograph: Linda Nylind for the Guardian

As she speaks, I become aware how Hill has softened her appearance since I last saw her, 10 years ago. Back then she dressed like a Gloucestershire landowners wife, in brogues and Barbour. Today she wears coordinated bright colours: a long-sleeved cotton top matches the beads, and a bright red handbag on the floor beside her matches a red undershirt only visible at the neck. The ensemble suggests a confidence about her appearance that I havent seen before.

In a trade in which the cliche is to be a Hampstead liberal, Hill stands out for her forthright support of the Conservative party, of which she is a member. And while other writers will not be surprised to hear that she is a party member, they will be surprised by her claim that, Im not very rightwing. I certainly wouldnt be Ukip or anything. That may be true, but some of her closest and most vocal supporters number among the most vociferous elements of the libertarian right. Asked where she places herself in the political firmament, she replies: Theresa May. Trouble is, I dont know any of them any more. She does know Michael Gove, however, who stepped into the row over the Book Hive with a tweet that said: Susan Hill is a brilliant writer and her detractors are illiberal bigots.

Essex Serpent writer and Norfolk-based novelist Sarah Perry bit back at Gove with a tweet saying: 1. Nobody queries for a second her genius, MICHAEL. 2. Disagreeing is not detracting, MICHAEL. 3. It is not bigoted to disagree, MICHAEL. This was on top of comments directed at Hill by the likes of the Father Ted creator, Graham Linehan, who tweeted: Ha! Even fonder of my local bookshop now. What a stupid crank Susan Hill is. Hill will not answer questions about Goves involvement, but their friendship is strong Hill has defended the would-be Tory leader on threads posted about him on Facebook. What she will say is that her support for May and Gove is firmly tied to their stance on Brexit.

Again, it is an unusual stance to take among novelists, who last year were overwhelmingly in favour of remain. Why does she want to leave the EU? Her response becomes less coherent than anything else she has said in our interview: I voted to leave because … I am old enough to remember very clearly the last referendum … I am not sure about this … but watching over the years more and more rules coming to us from an unelected body … I dont mean just the stupid things to do with health and safety, but taking away every countrys individual national decisions … Her words fade out. When I challenge her about the truth of this, she shrugs and replies: Anyway, I just think Brussels costs so much money. Like her criticism of the Book Hive, it seems as much about supposition as information.

Hill is also a devout Christian, a high Anglican, but doesnt see any contradiction with coming out as gay. I long ago gave over any anxieties about that, she says with a wave of ringless fingers. The break up of the marriage has been very amicable, she insists. There have been no harsh words. Wells, she says, is happy to be queen bee in Stratford-upon-Avon, and there are no plans to divorce. The marriage, she believes, would have ended anyway. You do pull apart. Once your children leave home, you either become a tighter unit or you become the opposite, and that happened to us. Her daughters, Jessica and Clemency, although shocked at first, have settled into a good relationship with Barb, as Hill refers to her new partner.

But the parallels between the writer and Olive are not just about sexuality. Born in 1942, Hill would have been Olives contemporary. Both were awkward teenagers, whose bookish demeanour masked a shoot-from-the-lip habit that speaks first and asks questions later. Hill blames her inability to watch her words upon her Yorkshire childhood. In Yorkshire they will say what they think and people will say, How rude! But it isnt meant to be. It is meant to be just straightforward.

Straightforward it may be, but forthright criticism of friends on Facebook has left wounds. She somehow feels she has the right to take people down a peg, one such victim confided. She can be cantankerous, says another, yet she inspires powerful loyalty.

She looks genuinely shocked when I say this to her. Kindness is important to her and the idea that she has left friends smarting after voicing her opinions on social media stings. I dont think I write many unkind things … I try really hard … she says, all bluster gone. That she is kind is attested by many women who have received her support given quietly and without fuss when their relationships have turned abusive and they have needed to escape.

Hill herself has been calloused by painful experiences in her life. As well as the death of Lepine, she had several miscarriages after the birth of her first daughter, the novelist Jess Rushton, and lost her second child, Imogen, five weeks after she was born. A hand-painted box given to her at the time by the writer Bel Mooney remains a treasured possession. However you lose a child, she says, all sorts of people come out of the woodwork and, even if the circumstances are different, tell you that it happened to them. It is a real human bond.

Like Olive in her novel, Hill was told by her mother from an early age that she was not attractive. It still pains her. When your mother says: Oh, no one will ever look at you, a plain face like that, you believe it, dont you? she says, the confidence punched from her face by the recollection. In the book, Olives schoolfriend Margaret Reid is the pretty girl who was seen in town with her boyfriend, Hill says, admitting that such girls were granted a confidence about life that she never had.

The photographer interrupts us. Its time to take her picture, and her partner is waiting for her. I have one last question: why did you defend Trump? She splutters in disbelief. I am not pro-Trump! she almost shouts in reply. People should read what I wrote, she adds, then: But I am not talking about that. But she looks at me again and says: Really? Do people think that of me? I point out that she has been off Twitter for a few days. Christ! she replies. Im a Conservative. I am not a Trumpian Republican … apart from anything I think he is not very bright. With that she scoops up her things, gives me a hug and scurries out of the bar in pursuit of the photographer.

Susan Hills From the Heart is published by Chatto & Windus. To order a copy for 9.34 (RRP 10.99) go to bookshop.theguardian.com or call 0330 333 6846. Free UK p&p over 10, online orders only. Phone orders min p&p of 1.99.

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newlaptopreviews · 7 years ago

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'God of War' could be 2018's first must-have game

Kratos returns in ‘God of War’ for the PlayStation 4.

The God of War has returned. Kratos, the Ghost of Sparta who destroyed all of the gods of Olympus in his quest for revenge for the deaths of his wife and daughter, is making his first appearance on Sony’s (SEN) PlayStation 4 next month, and it’s going to be huge.

But the living embodiment of a nuclear-powered buzzsaw isn’t what he once was. “God of War,” which comes out April 20, sees the once vengeance-driven son of Zeus and a mortal man take on a more subdued demeanor.

He’s older and wiser, and it certainly shows. From the way the ashes, which he was cursed to wear, have begun to fade from his skin, to how he approaches combat, this is a more deliberate Kratos than the killing machine that battled his way to the top of Mount Olympus in the original “God of War” trilogy.

I played the first two and a half hours of “God of War” during a preview event hosted by Sony, and left more excited to play the final game than ever before.

Aging gracefully

The aged Kratos we meet in “God of War” has the weather look of a man nearing the twilight of his days. His face now sports a long, grey beard and his trademark tattoo is fading with age. My first impression of the Spartan was that he had the kind of vibe I got from the aged Wolverine in “Logan.”

A tremendous amount of time has passed between ‘God of War III’ and the new ‘God of War,’ and it shows on Kratos’ aged face.

“There was a first kind of discussion we had where I said it was kind of like an athlete in the off season,” explained “God of War” creative director Cory Barlog. “There were versions of Kratos where he let himself go a little bit.”

That’s not to say he’s weak and feeble. This Kratos still packs one heck of a punch. And his brutality is still well intact when he needs to unleash it. But he’s also not the walking vial of nitroglycerin he once was.

Much of that has to do with the fact that Kratos is once again a husband and father. At least, he was prior to this game’s opening scenes where we find Kratos laying his wife to rest. His son, Atreaus is still young and inexperienced, and Kratos, now a single parent, is tasked with teaching him everything from how to properly hunt for food to how to defend himself properly.

It’s clear that Kratos isn’t exactly comfortable in his role as a loving caregiver. Moments like his initial anger at his son over a missed shot at a deer the two were hunting show the Spartan’s rage nearly boil over, only to subside into instructions punctuated through his gritted teeth. The love, though, is certainly there. In another scene, Atreaus tells Kratos not to leave him behind again following a fight, to which Kratos replies, “I won’t.”

The lessons Kratos is imparting on his son, are especially important in “God of War’s” new setting among the frozen Scandinavian forests of Midgard where the Norse gods reign. The change is a welcome one from the previous “God of War” trilogy, which revolved around the mythology and locations of the Greek gods. And Sony Santa Monica Studios has, based on my brief time with the game, done an excellent job bringing this new game world to life.

As a father, Kratos has to work to teach his son how to handle himself in the dangers of Midgard.

The forest and cliffs surrounding the game’s opening hours feel alive with animal life and look stunning, particularly when viewed with the PlayStation 4 Pro and a 4K, HDR television. At one point during my demo playthrough I stood still and just listened to the sound of birds and the wind whipping through the trees.

Old man strength

Of course, this wouldn’t be a “God of War” game without some satisfyingly, ferocious combat, and the latest title in a franchise known for its over-the-top battles delivers. The new-look old Kratos doesn’t have his trademark blades chained to his forearms anymore. In its place the Spartan now uses his Leviathan Axe, which lets him cut through foes using both weak and strong attacks.

Strong attacks bounce your enemies into the air allowing you to juggle them and leaving them stunned, while you beat them down. Weak hits let you deal out damage and keep your opponents off balance so they can’t retaliate against you.

Kratos now uses his Leviathan Axe instead of his trademark chain blades.

You can also throw the Leviathan Axe at enemies and then recall it similar to Thor’s hammer, Mjolnir. Throw the axe at certain objects and you can even freeze them in place. As you can imagine, that skill also comes in handy when solving “God of War’s” puzzles.

Interestingly, the first hours of “God of War” don’t feature the series’ usual massive set pieces. At the outset of “God of War III,” for instance, you’re climbing Mount Olympus alongside Titans the size of skyscrapers.

By contrast, this new “God of War” has you scrambling up hills and taking on the occasional troll. I have no doubt those “Oh my God!” moments will happen later in the game, though.

Everything about this “God of War” has a more intimate feel than the series’ prior entries. Even the camera angle, which has you up close to Kratos looking over his shoulder, helps ground the action more than ever.

Atreaus will help Kratos in battle, but the demigod still does the heavy lifting.

This older Kratos is a far more thoughtful demigod than before, and it shows in the way he evaluates situations, whether it’s trying to protect his son Atreaus from having to fight other living humans to how he mourns his wife.

Barlog says that the Kratos from the first trilogy felt like he was the digital personification of the developers’ college days. He was impulsive, wanted to stick it to authority figures and was all for going for bigger and crazier battles.

An enormous amount of time has passed since his days of fighting the Greek gods. Barlog explains that Kratos now feels more like a man who understands what’s important in life and explores the world through the lens of someone who wants to hold on to those things.

And yet, he’s still Kratos, the demigod who destroyed Olympus. Which means we’re sure to see flickers of the Ghost of Sparta when “God of War” hits store shelves next month. And I can’t wait.

More games converage:

‘Kirby Star Allies’ review: How to make friends and eat them

Despite Trump’s meeting, video games and violence still don’t add up

‘Far Cry 5’ preview: Exploring cults and terror in the American West

The 10 best iPhone and Android games of the month

Email Daniel Howley at [email protected]; follow him on Twitter at @DanielHowley.

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fyrapartnersearch · 5 years ago

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So it is written

Hello and good day.

This will be probably my last post on FYRA for a longer period of time. But I hope to find at least one who would share my interest. Anyways back with a new request! This one will be more specific as it only targets one certain fandom. I have had plenty of amazing original roleplays in the past, but now my desire is slowly favoring canon universes once again. It makes character building (in my opinion) also a greater challenge which I also quite enjoy to be honest. I have a strong penchant for including original characters and ideas that can be added to the pre-existing plot. Also very happy to expand on the given worlds and open to AU’s. Okay so I am a really big nerd when it comes to the supernatural, mysterious, urban myth and fantasy. Love combining those given elements with organized crime, complex characters, cataclysmic events and dark schemes that all unravels as time goes on.   Just so you know, a little about me.

You must be at least 18+ of age when you want to start original roleplay with this gal here. As I am in my twenties, I prefer maturer partners. I accept anyone, regardless if they are male or female. What I expect is a decent (if not very good) grasp on grammar, the ability and will to write creatively, shoulder a great part of the plotting and responsibility as well as passion for roleplaying. Of course this should be seen as a fun hobby but I really like to invest… I wish for my partner / friend to take equal initiative.   Here are my cravings and guidelines! Even though they are only limited to a few, I made sure to filter out the ones I know I wouldn’t role-play anytime soon. So if you are interested in something I didn't mention here, I am afraid I have to decline. Sorry.   Btw, call me Gil ;)   The roleplay I have been wanting to do for such a long time is none other than Devil May Cry.  Replaying the game brought back some really good and nostalgic feels - but the latest game one was one of the best in my opinion. Such creativity, especially with urban mythology, monsters and other interesting elements. Hence why this game is right up my alley and one of my favourites of all time. If this does not interest you as much, I am also keen on roleplaying Castlevania or next gen Harry Potter! But my main interest still remains with DMC, just so you know. :)  What it entails: 

Alright, so you are writing with some of mature age. I have 11 years of writing experience when it comes to the game. This will be a fair warning that this request is not for the faint of heart. There will be violence, swearing, gore, intimate scenes, uncomfortable subjects, drama, conflict and other dark themes included within the story. I have few limits but I will respect the boundaries of my partner, so do not shy away from telling me. Just so you know, I won’t fade to black or skip out on the nitty gritty. Go big or go home. Interests: My line of interests are very dynamic when it comes to genres. I love conceiving my own lore inside a stories, be it an original or a pre-existing story. Gothic fantasy among others are one of my favourites. I am not opposed to tapping into some science fiction, action, romance, crime, action or thriller genres, in fact I encourage it. Inspirations for me are Lovecraft, Hellsing, Blade, Underworld, etc. As for the fandom inspired RPs, I am more than willing to bend some rules and be a little indulgent. Writing: 3rd person perspective. My writing is wide-ranging and flexible, which means that frequently, word count will go up 1000+ per reply - though it highly depends on the given situation and partner. Quality over quantity as they say - but why not both? I love detail in description, and I am actively seeking someone of the same infamy. My partner should have a basic grasp on grammar, punctuation and somewhat of an interest in knowledgeable writing. I also double! (preferably, but we can always discuss whether it makes sense for our roleplay our not.) World building and sharing the burden: You should be active and help me shape the world around our characters. Even if we discuss many things during and before the roleplay, how we wish for things to play out and take its course, I am always happy to be surprised with a secret of my partner’s character I didn’t know before. You don’t need to lay out all your cards on the table… keep it a little mysterious and suspenseful. Just enough so we can work with the ideas, but not completely kill off the suspense. Characters: I write canon as well as OC characters. Faceclaims, GIFs, drawings, mood boards or just a plain physical description is absolutely sufficient. Whatever floats your boat when it comes to visualising your character and their backstory, I’m on board. Characters should be written as opulent, flawed, unique, talented, heroic, villainous, spiteful, angry, and everything in-between figures. In other words, don’t be scared of making them ‘human’, even when they are non-human. Romance: Openly play and accept characters of both genders, preferable m x f pairings, but I am open to m x m and f x f relationships as well. I have more experience with m x f relationships, so I might be more adept with this one. If the chemistry of two characters compel me, I will ship them no matter what! When it comes to sexual scenarios and intimacy (intercourse, foreplay, all that jazz). I encourage eroticism, but always in a tasteful, sensual manner (that goes for romance as well). The passion must be felt through the screen, even if it’s just a mere description of someone’s deep train of thought. Content: Drama, violence, sex, metamorphosis, symbolism, action, romance, pretty much everything is a-okay. I am unbothered by certain subjects that may or may not be uncomfortable for the general public. Roleplays are fictional stories and we best keep viewing them as such. If there are things you are uncomfortable with, name them and I shall respect those boundaries. But don’t be surprised when suddenly one of our characters bites the dust, or gets tortured. It may be difficult to write and read, but it is all part of the story and furthering the plot. My roleplays imply and involve brutality, mayhem, psychological and physical torture as well as other things. But I also endorse beauty, serenity and placid moments, scenes or characters. I love it when it comes full circle… everyone- and everything has a beautiful and hideous side. Both should be embraced like Yin and Yang. Communication and friendship: OOC-chat friendly! I love meeting new people and making friends. Plus it strengthens the compatibility between us. Communication is the alpha and the omega. If there is anything that bothers you, or if you think you are left out in some way (be it a mistake on my part or we’re both at fault here), don’t be scared to tell me. Really, it won’t be taken personally - since I know that we slip up every now and then, we’re only human after all. It is also completely sufficient if you only type out a few messages per week. I am super chill about it. It doesn’t bother me re-writing a scene to fit the narrative more. If there are mistakes, they can be corrected - just to get that out there. We can always exchange opinions and see what would benefit the story most. I will also voice my opinion should something arise that could be bothersome. Partnership: An active roleplayer is wanted without a doubt. Can’t do the thinking for two now. Let’s row this boat together Limits: Subject matters I avoid are pedophilia, bestiality, necrophilia, vore, scat, furries and various other bizarre fetishes. Also no one-liners or text-talk messages. The sentences have to be cohesive, coherent and decently structured.    Now a little more information about myself.

I live in CET central Europe. My response rate varies throughout the weeks, depending on my schedule.  I study at a university full time and work a job on the side and both are keeping me fairly busy. My writing will increase most likely during the weekends. If I should hit a hiatus, I will let you know as soon as possible. I understand when you are busy as well and won’t be able to respond, though I prefer if my partner does not ghost me. At least let me know what’s going on so I can adjust and put the roleplay on hold if needed!  Mediums I roleplay on are email and googledocs. Though I also have Discord in case for OOC chat!   I prefer if my partner messages me first on email, giving me a brief description of themselves, their cravings as well as ideas. That way I can see if we’re compatible and if it bears any potential.   Message me here: EMAIL: [email protected] Hope to hear from you soon! Lots of love!    

Yours sincerely,

-Gil

#indie rp #independent roleplay #oc rp #multiple paragraph #para #long term #email #tumblr #aou rp #submission

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danielphowley · 7 years ago

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'God of War' could be 2018's first must-have game

Kratos returns in ‘God of War’ for the PlayStation 4.

I played the first two and a half hours of “God of War” during a preview event hosted by Sony, and left more excited to play the final game than ever before.

Aging gracefully

A tremendous amount of time has passed between ‘God of War III’ and the new ‘God of War,’ and it shows on Kratos’ aged face.

As a father, Kratos has to work to teach his son how to handle himself in the dangers of Midgard.

Old man strength

Kratos now uses his Leviathan Axe instead of his trademark chain blades.

By contrast, this new “God of War” has you scrambling up hills and taking on the occasional troll. I have no doubt those “Oh my God!” moments will happen later in the game, though.

Atreaus will help Kratos in battle, but the demigod still does the heavy lifting.

More games converage:

‘Kirby Star Allies’ review: How to make friends and eat them

Despite Trump’s meeting, video games and violence still don’t add up

‘Far Cry 5’ preview: Exploring cults and terror in the American West

The 10 best iPhone and Android games of the month

Email Daniel Howley at [email protected]; follow him on Twitter at @DanielHowley.

Follow Yahoo Finance on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and LinkedIn

#Sony #tech #gaming #_revsp:yahoofinance.com #Sony PlayStation 4 #_uuid:78d1ab03-45a8-3a07-8b13-145252ac7247 #PlayStation 4 #PS4 #_lmsid:a077000000BAh3wAAD #$SNE #games #_author:Daniel Howley #God of War #video games

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