#and there's like. one accessible ticket open on the floor. like on the floor on the floor do u know how insane that would be hello

[taraxacum-vulpes]

i know u probably alr know abt this but its my duty to tell you anyway

mewt u don't understand how bad it was i was in that queue so fast and they still sold out on their accessible seats like i checked venues in other cities and they were fine but for some reason it's so bad here like hello? is it just the venue? is it evil??? AND THEY WERE ALREADY SELLING RESALE TICKETS HELLO i hate ticketmaster so bad

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 01

post cibum - "after a meal" - Kinktober Masterlist TF141 x f!reader Kinks > wet/messy, food play, objectification Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

Your new job as a professional nyotaimori model pays all the bills and then some, but tonight, you are serving a group of soldiers who want more than just the novelty of eating fancy sushi rolls off of a naked woman. After they’ve had their fill of the nigiri and the rolls, they want you for dessert. 

“That’s fine, sir. We can do a seven o’clock tonight. Have you had a chance to choose your selections from the menu?”

You strained your ears as you listened to your maître d' consult with a customer over the phone. You were prepping in the adjoining room, going through your normal routine, but the growling, Manchester accent coming through the speaker was making it difficult to focus.  

“Yeah, give us a full spread. The works. No barriers.”

It must be a big party, you thought. The full spread option included a large array of sushi and sashimi. Asking for no barriers was quite adventurous, and you felt your skin flush with excitement. 

“Yes, sir. And would you like your artist bound or unbound?”

“Mm,” he thought for a minute, and you tried to send telepathic messages to the gruff stranger, “Let’s have ‘er tied down.”

Yes, you celebrated, already imagining the feel of the ropes crossing over the big, wooden table and pinning you to it, forcing you to stay in place all night long.

“And will you be including the sake option?”

“Yeah, sure. Johnny’s a bloody lush.”

Your heart began to race just imagining what sort of night you were in for. The sake option meant needing to shave your sensitive pussy completely bare, so you added that step to your process. Being a food model wasn’t something anyone seemed to take seriously, but you felt like a true artist, and you wanted your guests to have an unforgettable experience when they came to dine with you… on you. 

“Alright, sir, that’s –”

“And we want the additional package. I’ll pay extra. Whatever it costs. Just put it on the tab.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like A, B, or C?” 

The additional package? How did he know about that? You’d never performed for this man before – you would not have been able to forget that voice – and only your regulars knew about your secret options.

“A and B, but keep her mouth open, yeah? In case she gets hungry…”

His dark laugh made your blood burn in your veins. Your add-on package meant that he wanted to fill your holes while you lay on the table for him. Option A was for a large glass dildo in your pussy, warmed and heavy, option B was for a bulbous anal plug made of the same body-safe glass, and option C was for a rubber ball-gag in your mouth. But, he wanted to have access to you there, and that made you almost see stars when you thought about the implications. What did your mystery Manc have planned for you?

“Yes, sir. Do you know how many will be in your party tonight?”

“Four. The one with the mohawk is the birthday boy.”

“Thank you, sir. I will add that to the notes. Any allergies?”

“No.”

“And the name for the party?”

“Riley.”

“Thank you. See you later.”

When she hung up the phone, you listened to her boots clack against the marble floor as she came into your dressing room,

“Hey babes, here’s your ticket for tonight. Table of four. Bunch of soldiers. Sure you’re up for it?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, not feeling as confident as you sounded, “Just make sure to keep their drinks coming. They tip more when they’re drunk.”

You winked at her and she laughed, closing the door behind her to let you finish grooming and cleansing your body. 

Each swipe of your razor was another tantalizing part of your ritual. Once you were fully shaved, you cleaned your skin with special antibacterial soap before applying neutral oils that wouldn’t affect the taste of the food. No perfume, no deodorant. Those were the standards. You weren’t allowed to talk, or to move if you were bound by the tight ropes that pinned you to the table, and you were simply there to be a beautiful platter for the immaculately-made sushi. 

At more traditional restaurants, your position was revered, and guests were forbidden from interacting with you directly. You’d worked at a number of venues that hosted nyotaimori events, all with varying levels of standards and rules, but this one paid the most. This place allowed their guests to do almost anything they wanted, and those high risk situations added to the excitement and to your bank account. However, you’d never felt safer. There were cameras, guards, and highly trained staff all over the premises, and if you ever needed to press your emergency button, you could do so. You wore your panic ring at all times, and you’d used it effectively once or twice; it worked like a dream. 

But, you had to admit, it wasn’t just the money that kept you coming back here. You liked the clients. You liked feeling their hands and mouths eating off of your warm body. You enjoyed the more adventurous customers who wanted to taste you and touch you after they were done with their food. It was exhilarating, and you loved being at their mercy. 

Just before your call time, your attendant brought you your glass dildo and anal plug from the back. They had been sanitized, and you used a little lube to insert the familiar, rigid shape into your pussy. You felt yourself already wet from anticipation, and although the glass phallus was thick and heavy, you took it with a satisfying ease. 

The anal plug was another story. You used much more lube and began to play with your hole with your fingers before you committed to pressing it through your tight rim. The pressure from the fat dildo in your cunt made it even harder to accept, but after a few deep breaths, you felt your body relax and allow the round bulb to sit inside of your ass, pushing against all of the sensitive nerve endings inside of your stretched hole. 

You washed your hands thoroughly and cleansed your skin again, just to be sure. Eventually, you finished with your prep and walked through the hallways to lay on your long black table. It was a chabudai, a short table where guests would sit on mats on the floor, and the dining room where you served was dimly lit, very minimally decorated, and had instrumental music playing softly through the speakers. You looked up into the corner and saw the camera light go from red to green. It was showtime. 

Your attendant returned to perform your shibari. You were laying on your back, and she tied your wrists to your thighs, making sure to position your thumb so that you could press your panic ring easily. Then, she began to lay the ropes over your ribs, framing your breasts, using the ties to make them stand perky and proud on your chest. Finally, she fed the bindings under the table and fastened them down. You were stuck. You could bend your knees and twist your body, but that was about it. 

“All good, ma’am?” She asked.

You nodded,

“Yes, thank you. All good.”

“Alright. I’ll tell chef.”

She left you alone, and you tried your best to focus on your breathing. The dildo was nudging a very sensitive spot inside of you, and you pulsed against it, attempting to find some relief. But, you were just making it worse. Your clenching muscles were allowing it to thrust against you, and no amount of wiggling was going to grant you any reprieve. So, you stopped. You shut off your mind as much as you could, listening to the music and imagining an infinite, empty expanse in your head. 

The door clicked open and the sushi chef came in with his two other servers. They set to work, laying slabs of salmon and octopus sashimi across your breasts in a spiral pattern, using delicate roe to dust the inner circle over your hard nipples, making it look like the pollen-covered pistil of a flower, the fish serving as your beautiful petals. 

A row of maki trailed their way down your belly and each arm. More sashimi were laid on all the places where a roll wouldn’t sit, and one of the chef’s assistants began to place thinly-sliced mango across your neck like a choker. Your legs were covered in sushi and more fruit, and finally, right in the join of your legs, you balanced a bowl with a single lotus flower inside. 

The door cracked again, and your attendant poked her head in,

“Chef, your party is here. Should we send them in?”

The chef nodded, and everyone left the room. But, this time, the silence was deafening rather than zen. Your heart was pounding. You couldn’t wait to see and hear and feel what these four guests had in store for you. 

Finally, the door opened, and you heard their jovial laughter and talking. 

“Cannae believe you got a reservation, LT! Been dyin’ to try this for the longest.”

“I know, Johnny,” you recognized that deep, Manchester accent, “Won’t shut up about it.”

Johnny finally came into view. He peered down at you with a uniquely boyish wonder, staring at your face and your body like a kid at Christmas, eager to unwrap his presents. His friends surrounded him on both sides. You guessed that the wry blond was Simon, your vocal crush. You didn’t know the other two, but they were just as nice to look at. One of them was enormous, over-muscled with a bit of a belly, and an odd beard. The other was like a professional athlete, chiseled and masculine, with big brown eyes and dark, smooth skin. 

“Sure is a pretty plate, huh, lads?” The beard spoke with a growling, gravely Scouse accent. He was a smoker, that was for sure. 

“Fittest table I’ve ever seen,” the athlete smiled, his full lips revealing sharp, blinding teeth. 

“Please, have a seat, gentlemen,” your attendant put on her best sexy customer-service voice, “First round is on the house.”

“Oh, shit,” Johnny laughed.

He and his friends ordered an absurd amount of alcohol, and then you were left alone with your party. 

“Think we can get started?” Johnny asked, “Is that alright with you, bonnie?”

You watched out of the corner of your eye as the bearded one hit him lazily on the arm with the back of his hand, 

“She isn’t supposed to speak, MacTavish. Didn’t you fuckin’ listen, or is all the blood that’s meant to be in your brain stuck in your prick?”

“Here, Captain,” the athlete called the bearded one over, “Try this.”

You felt the soft wood of your restaurant’s polished chopsticks graze the side of your breast as he lifted a slab of salmon off of your skin. 

The captain grabbed the fish with his fingers clumsily, but he slurped it down, groaning with pleasure,

“Mm, that’s not bad, Gaz.”

Johnny reached out to you, his hands steady and sure, 

“Lemme try…”

You felt his warm thumb graze over the top of your nipple, pushing some of the fresh roe onto a cut of octopus, and as he curled the fish, he let it drag over the same spot he touched, purposefully teasing you. 

Once they started, they didn’t want to stop. Their hands were roaming all over you, picking up food and feasting on what you had to offer. 

“Look here,” Gaz commented, letting his fingers swipe up the side of your ribs, gathering up dark sauce and licking it off of his knuckle. 

“Oh, tha’ looks tasty,” Johnny smiled, leaning his head down and using his tongue to lick up the rest of the flavor, taking great pains to get as close to the side of your breast as he dared. 

They were getting braver, but you could tell they still weren’t sure what they were allowed to do.

Before long, your attendant was back, ready to get more drinks and appetizers for your men, and you listened to them politely dismiss her, too focused on their task at hand: uncovering you from your delicate morsels of sushi. 

“Mm,” Simon grunted, “Not bad, hm?”

“It’s proper tasty,” the captain agreed. 

“I’m so glad to hear you’re enjoying yourselves,” your attendant encouraged them, “Could I interest you in a sake presentation?”

“Wha’s tha?” Johnny asked with his mouth full, excited to know more. 

“Your artist has more than one talent, gentlemen,” she smiled coyly down at you, kneeling beside the table, carefully removing the bowl from where it was so carefully perched on your pussy. 

The whole room stood still as your smooth, oiled vulva was revealed. Your attendant leaned over you, pouring warm sake into the divot between your closed legs and your mons, filling the space with drink. She made sure the men were looking at her with rapt attention, and she bent to suck the alcohol from your body, her mouth sucking right below your clit, slurping up the delicious sake until it was almost gone. 

“Creepin’ Jesus,” Johnny said under his breath, “Can I do one, lass?”

“Yes, sir,” she smiled, “Of course! You can do anything you like.”

“Anything…”

Johnny’s eyes watched as she filled the crevice between your legs again, letting the sparkling fluid pool and ripple against your skin. Then, when she was done with her pour, he bent to drink from you, putting his mouth exactly where hers had been, gulping and swallowing the sweet brew, his eyes fixed on your pretty pussy until you were empty. Then, he stole a lick, shoving his tongue between your lips to tease your clit, testing the limits of what was allowed, trying to find the boundary. 

“I’ll leave the bottle, yes?” Your attendant asked, leaving it on the table without waiting for an answer. 

“Thanks, love,” the captain smiled, watching his friend hovering over your wet quim as Johnny considered going back between your legs for seconds.  

“Go on, then, Sergeant,” Simon encouraged him, “For what I fuckin’ paid, you better enjoy it.”

That was the only permission the mohawked birthday boy needed. He sank his hot mouth down onto your pussy and began to suckle at your clit like it was part of his meal. He laved his tongue inside of your swollen lips, licking you in rhythmic, rolling thrusts. 

You tried your best to control your reactions, but there was only so much you could do to contain your pleasure. Gaz noticed when your eyes rolled back in your head, your lashes fluttering closed as you tried to breathe through the feeling. 

“Delicious, aren’t ya, babe?” 

He bent his head to your breast, feasting on the two pieces of sashimi that were left behind, using his tongue to pull them into his mouth. You could feel the warmth of his full lips on your skin as he ate from you, and every little touch was electrified by Johnny’s feast between your legs. 

As Gaz chewed on his bite, he used his thick finger to scoop up the fresh roe that remained on the peak of your nipple. Then, he bent over you, smiling like a demon, 

“Open up.”

You obeyed, and you melted into your submission. The hard, unflinching stare from those big brown eyes was enough to crush your will to dust. You felt your skin flush across your whole body as you surrendered to him, as if allowing him to control you made you even more sensitive to the touching, licking, kissing, and groping that was happening to you.

He slipped his finger past your lips, placing the roe carefully on your tongue. You felt the tiny eggs spill into your lips like beads. Just when you were about to swallow them, he grabbed your chin in his hand sharply, his face turning darkly serious,

“Hey, open, I said. There’s a good girl. Stick that pretty tongue out for me. Say ahh, pretty girl.”

You did as you were told, and to your shock, he bent his mouth over yours and spit into your throat. You could feel the bubbling drool pooling in your cheeks and sliding to the back of your tongue, but there was nothing you could do about it. His lips turned up into that same dirty smirk as he said, 

“Swallow.”

You took the roe into your mouth and swallowed it along with his saliva, the salt of the fish eggs mixing with the salt and alcoholic tinge in his spit. He must’ve been drinking at the bar before his party sat down at your table because the herbal scent of gin was unmistakable. 

He pet your cheek with the back of his hand, praising you with his touch, watching your face twist with pleasure as Johnny became almost uncontrollable between your legs. The mohawked man was sucking so hard on your clit that the slurping sounds from his mouth were filling the room. 

Gaz bent to kiss you, and you kissed him back. The softness of his lips lulled you into an even deeper sub state, and you felt like you were melting. Suddenly, he forced his tongue into your mouth and wrapped a huge palm around your jaw, holding you in place as he began to slide his slippery muscle in and out of your cheeks. It was as if he was fucking your throat with his tongue, and your mind fed you an imaginary scene of how his cock might feel in its place. 

When he pulled away, you felt Johnny stop his kisses as well, and your body writhed without your consent, desperate to feel them tasting you again. 

“This is the best fuckin’ birthday I’ve ever had,” Johnny smiled, wiping a hand across his shining mouth. 

The man who’d made the booking, Simon, sat beside his friend and pointed between your legs,

“Pour us one, Johnny.” 

“Aye. Here ya go, lads. Slàinte mhath.”

You watched as he poured sake into the divot between your legs again, but he over-indulged. He began to pour it across your belly as well, letting it pool in your belly button and settle in the dip of your sternum. 

The captain was the first to take a sip. He lapped at the pool of sake that splattered across your mons and lips like a hound, aiming to taste you more than he was the alcohol. Then, he followed Johnny’s trail, dragging his hot tongue along the swell of your tummy, aiming for the well of spirits in your belly button. He hovered over it when he found it, and as he leaned down to drink from you, you could feel the tickle of his mustache, making you squirm.

His filthy, gravelly chuckle made your blood run cold. It seemed that he enjoyed forcing your body to respond to his touch. 

“Ticklish, love?” He returned to your lower belly, letting the bristles of his beard tease you until your breathing became ragged, your lungs trying to suck in, doing your best to pull away from him and yet not being able to escape. 

Your tormentor shoved Gaz around the table so that he could tease your breast with his bearded mouth, and Gaz followed suit, both of them fighting for the puddle of sake between your breasts before suckling on your tight nipples. They had such different agendas. Where Gaz seemed to suck because he wanted to see you squirming from pleasure, the captain seemed hell-bent on keeping you from it. 

You could feel him biting into your delicate flesh with his sharp teeth, causing just enough pain to pull you out of your relaxed, pleasure-induced haze. Then, when he could see your eyes flash with just a hint of apprehension, he would retreat, rewarding your responsiveness with a long, deep suck or hungry, flat licks with his tongue, a barely-there smile twisting across his cheeks as he did. 

You felt something brush against your leg, and Simon was using a napkin from the table to wipe the rest of the food off of your legs, not giving a shit about the hundreds of pounds worth of sushi being gathered up in the cloth. Dinner, apparently, was over. 

Your mind raced. This was far and beyond the bravest party you’d ever served before. They worked on you as a team, giving each other silent feedback, and when Simon finally bent to drink from between your legs, your mind was throbbing from the overstimulation. 

You weren’t supposed to, but you began to let long, cracking moans escape from your throat. Anything you did to hold them back was just making them worse, and your voice only seemed to spur these men to double down on their efforts. 

Simon did not eat you like Johnny did. His Scottish companion ate you out like you were the food, but the Manc was more like his captain. He wanted to see where your buttons were, and when he found them, he began to press them just like a lad playing with a shiny new toy. 

His tongue found the body of your clit and swirled around it, avoiding the searing head, swollen and sensitive to the point of discomfort. Instead, he pushed the tip of his tongue just below it, lifting it up, making the hood stretch just enough to apply its pressure. 

You bucked your hips, the sake that rested in your thighs sloshing out, ignored by your new master. He didn’t give you a smug grin like his bearded boss. In fact, you could barely tell what emotion he was feeling. It wasn’t until you met his gaze that you noticed the fire behind his eyes. 

Only then did he begin to drink from you, emptying the alcohol from your body, letting his tongue venture down into the crevice of your thighs and licking between them as if they were your cunt. He had gone deep enough to feel the edge of your dildo, and when he found it, he turned to the others, getting their attention,

“Had them do something special for Johnny. Wanna see your surprise?”

Johnny had been busy sharing a nipple with Gaz, leaving hungry little hickies across your skin. But, when Simon called him over, he seemed all too eager to return between your legs.

“Aye,” he smiled rakishly, “Gonnae spoil me, Si.”

All four men shifted to the foot of the table, their eyes wide and focused on you like hyenas with a wounded gazelle, selfish and ready for their next taste of you.

Simon took your legs and lifted them up, bending your thighs at the hip, showing the others how two fat, glass dildos were shoved deep inside of your holes. 

“Oh, bonnie…” Johnny reached forward, grabbing the dildo stuck in your pussy gently between his fingers and giving it just the slightest twist, “For me? Such a good lass, innit she?”

Simon reached down below Johnny’s hand and began to tug at the anal plug. The resistance was driving you mad. You tried to relax, but he was not waiting on you, and the pressure began to build and build until finally, your muscle relented and you felt the heavy bulb slip wetly out of your asshole, soaking in lube.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz murmured, not wasting any time, sticking a long finger into the gaping hole left behind by the plug, testing the stretch of your ass with his strong hands. 

Simon pressed it back in, forcing Gaz away, slowly fucking the heavy toy back into you, letting it sink inside of your body with a sloppy pop, pushing on it just a little harder than he needed to so that it would feel like it was thrusting inside of you. 

Then, Johnny did the same with the dildo in your swollen pussy. He didn’t pull it all the way out, choosing instead to fuck you with it, shoving it into your hole with wet, slicking sounds, marvelling at the sight. 

You were so drunk from the pleasure that you hadn’t noticed their captain sneaking around to the head of the table. He startled you, grabbing you beneath your arms and yanking you and your ropes up, strong enough to move you even though you were tied down. He had pulled you far enough that your head hung off the edge, and you found yourself staring at his black slacks, amazed at the thickness of his thighs. Then, you watched him roll down his zipper, stroking his cock until it gleamed with his precome. 

You felt his other hand supporting the back of your head, holding you at just the angle he wanted. Then, he purred his command to you,

“Let me in, pretty girl.”

You allowed your muscles to weaken, opening you mouth wide, unsure if you could pry your mouth open enough for his girth to fit inside of you. He chuckled in that same, devilish way, slapping his sticky head against your lips twice before feeding his head into your cheeks, settling at the back of your throat, letting you gag and cough around him all you wanted and doing fuck-all about it. 

Between your legs, you felt the dildo slip out of your pussy, replaced with eager fingers and a tongue. Now that you had the captain’s thick cock to block your noises, you let yourself whine against him like a gag, moaning and crying out from the overwhelming feeling of being used. 

“Oh, fuck. That’s it, lads,” he grunted, “Make her scream for me.”

Both of his hands were cradling your head as he fucked your throat, guiding his fat dick in and out of you like a piston. You breathed when you could, but it was only just enough, and you felt yourself going light-headed. 

A mouth found your nipple again, and a hand rolled itself beside your clit, making frantic circles from above. Then, below your thighs, a round prodding cockhead pressed its way into your lubricated walls, making your dildo seem like nothing more than a thick finger or two. You were being well-stretched, and your body flooded your cunt with wetness to try and ease his way, doing everything it could to make it easier for whoever it was to fit his prick into your warm body.

He rested your ankles against his neck, and your bare feet scraped the side of his head. Buzzed hair. It was the birthday boy afterall. 

“Mmmph, fuckin’ hell, bonnie. Too tight. Too goddamn tight. Fuck…”

As he pumped himself into you, his movements made free and fast by the lube and your dripping cunt, your whole body began to jerk across the table. These men weren’t just large; they were stronger than you could’ve ever imagined, and you felt like you were nothing more than a mere toy to them. 

The fingers teasing your clit were sending your mind into a panicked orgasm, and your whole body convulsed as you let yourself tumble into the swirling madness of your bliss, your eyes wrenched shut and flashes of rainbow light dancing across them as you came violently. 

Apparently, that was enough to send the captain over his edge because as you were trapped in the throes of your orgasm, he shoved himself all the way inside of you and began to pulse hot shots of his come into your belly. You were desperate for air, but there was nothing you could do. They were in control of you, and you were ashamed by how much you enjoyed being at their mercy. 

“Ohhh, Cap’n. She loves tha’, dontcha, lass?”

“Knew she would,” the captain slipped out of your throat, smiling down at you as you gasped wetly for a breath, “Filthy little slag.”

You watched as he shifted to the side of you, his thighs leaving your line of sight, being immediately replaced by a pair of dark jeans. You knew it was Gaz when his wide thumb reached down to wipe the drool and come from your lips, lovingly cleaning up after his captain’s mess. 

“Being so good for us. Still hungry, baby?”

You couldn’t answer him, but he didn’t care. He tugged his long, curved rod out of his pants and let his balls rest on your mouth. You started to suckle on one of them, taking it into your mouth and letting it roll between your lips.

“Yeah, she is. Mmff-fuck, tha’s it.”

Gaz lifted your head up with his hand to help you reach, stroking his huge shaft with the other, jerking off as you did your best to pleasure him, trying to be careful with his sensitive sack. 

Johnny’s thrusts became frantic. Simon and his captain were taking turns pouring sake across your belly and sucking it off of you, and you were dizzy from the feeling of being fucked with your heavy plug inside of you. When you began to come again, it hit you slowly, building and building in waves, making you tremble from the suffocating joy of it. 

You cried out, and your mouth was open wide in a silent oh. Gaz took the chance to feed you his cockhead, giving you something to scream around. You felt Johnny pause deep inside of you, his cock nestled as close to your womb as he could get, and he began to fill you with his come, shamelessly bending himself over you to fit his rod down to its root in your wetness. 

“Christ, bonnie! Come for me. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Hnngh…” 

He slid himself out of you, but almost immediately, someone filled your empty hole with your dildo, keeping his load sealed safe inside. 

Gaz was still jerking his cock as he rested his tip inside your mouth, and you could feel him shuddering above you, his fingers twisted and tugging at the base of your scalp. 

“Suck on me harder. Yesss,” he groaned, “Just like that… mmfgh. Good… girl…” 

You felt him throbbing, pulsing, and ready to come. Then, just when you were ready to taste him, he pulled out and painted your mouth, chin, and neck white with his seed. There was so much of it, and whatever your tongue could reach, you licked it up, sucking him clean when he let you have the tip one more time before he smeared the remnants of his dripping cream across your cheek. 

Suddenly, Gaz’s hands returned to the back of your head and lifted it up. At the same time, another man yanked your whole body back down the table, making the wood creak from the stress. Now, you could see what was happening to you. 

Simon was holding your thighs, playing with your pussy, making sure your dildo was nice and snug. Then, he removed your anal plug again, twisting it out with a steady tug. When you made a whimpering cry, he looked up at you, and you saw that same light in his gaze, a hunger unlike that of his other friends. Something uncanny and secret about his message that you failed to decode. 

He began to pry open your asshole with his fingers, exploring just past the rim. First, it was just one, but then it was two. They twisted, curling inside of you, plunging deeper and deeper and testing how pliant you were. Your plug was pretty large, so you weren’t usually concerned about a man’s cock being a challenge. But, the way he was preparing your hole made your whole body tense with anticipation, worried about what was going to happen to you. 

You watched him rest your heels on his shoulder, just like his friend had done, and his tattooed hand held your thighs as the other placed his swollen head at the rim of your asshole, teasing it, barely even touching you. 

You thought he would plunge inside, but he never did. He just kept painting little warm circles around you, pressing on the outside yet never allowing himself to slip into your ass. 

“Mngh…” You whined, twisting your hips as much as you could, begging for it. 

“What’s that? Speak up, love. Can’t hear ya.”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, knowing you weren’t allowed to break your ceremonial rule but desperate just the same. He let himself smile softly down at you, planting his head at your hole and using the weight of his cock to rest it there. 

“C’mon, sweetheart. Tell me you want it. It’ll be our little secret.”

His friends were kneeling around you, spent but still groping your body, licking and kissing you lazily, enjoying watching Simon torment you.

“She doesnae wanna break the rules, Si. Good lass tha’ she is,” Johnny cooed, letting his fingers rest on either side of your clit, drawing deep ovals and watching your face twist in desperation.

“Let him hear it, love. We won’t tell,” the captain whispered in your ear, using his fingers to slide Gaz’s come from your chin into your mouth, making you taste his salty seed. He kept his fingers inside of your lips, pushing them all the way to the back of your throat, letting you suck on them, “Tha’s right. Our perfect little slut.”

Your mind went blank, and all you could focus on was the feeling of relief that would come to you if you just broke your rule…

The captain removed his hand, returning to your tits to suck on them and pinch your nipples. Then, Simon pressed forward just a little more, giving you his head before immediately taking it away, leaving you hollow.

“... please…” You whispered, your voice so shallow and small. 

“What? Cannae hear you, bonnie,” the Scot smiled, moving his hand faster between your pussy lips. 

“I think I heard something, did you?” Gaz joked, raising his eyebrows at Simon, smacking your ass cheek with the palm of his hand. 

“Say it,” Simon growled. 

His team was all smiles, but he was dead on. You locked eyes with him and said it again.

“Please.”

“Fuck,” Simon’s eyes rolled back in his head, the whites peeking through his long lashes, and he sank himself deep into your asshole in one punishing thrust. 

He was as thick as your plug, but he was so much longer, and you had never felt so stretched out in your whole life. As he began to fuck you, he wrapped his hand around the dildo in your pussy, covered in come and lube, and he fucked you in time with his own prick, making it seem like he was in both places at once. 

“You ready for more?” Simon asked you breathlessly, checking in with you. 

You nodded, fuck-drunk but just as submissive as ever. Whatever he asked for, you were ready to give it to him. 

When he saw your shallow nods, he began to fuck you at an incredible pace. Your whole body was shuddering every time he slammed himself forward, and the strength of his thrusts was making you feel like his cock was even bigger than you thought, your poor asshole stretched past the point of comfort. 

“She’s takin’ it so good, Si,” Johnny sighed, watching your face go slack as his friend railed himself into you.

You weren’t even moaning. You were barely breathing. Your mind only had one goal: making you come and come and come. 

“Spread her legs,” Simon commanded his team. 

You heard the schnick of a knife’s blade being unsheathed, and then the ropes around your ankles were sliced away. Gaz and Johnny pulled your knees up to your chest, forcing you open for him like a book. 

Johnny bent down over your pussy and spat onto your slit, smearing it with his fingers. Then, he slapped you gently a few times, increasing the pain each time his hand came down until you were literally screaming from it. But, it didn’t hurt. It just made you come even harder. The pleasure was muting the pain to an incredible degree. You wanted him to give you more, but you were too far gone to ask. 

The captain was kissing your mouth, using his hands to feed you come again, and you couldn’t even kiss him back. Your body was frozen, your muscles tight and stuck in a loop of pleasure. You were coming in cyclical waves, unsure of where one started or ended, just suspended in blissful torment, sucking in breaths when your lungs allowed you to. 

Then, Simon’s movements stuttered, and he slowed, sinking into you as deep as he could fit before pulling out in one swift movement and jerking his cock right in front of your swollen, punished pussy.

He slid the dildo out of you, leaving you feeling empty to the point of grief, and you watched as he hovered at your entrance, shooting his load into your already-filled cunt. Rope after rope of milky come seared its way into you, messy but accurate. Then, he replaced the dildo and sat back on his heels, out of breath. 

His friends let your legs back down, and they all moved away from you, leaving little kisses on your body as they retreated. 

Once they recovered, they had one more shot of sake together, and Johnny poured one into your mouth. 

“There ya go, bonnie. Job well done, aye? This birthday party willnae be topped anytime soon.”

You swallowed the shot, tasting just not the alcohol but the remnants of Gaz’s come as well when it slid down your throat in tandem. 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” the captain said, “You don’t have to say your goodbyes yet.”

Simon peered down at you over his shoulder,

“Riverbend street, apartment six, right?”

Your eyes went wide. How did he know where you lived? 

But, before you could ask him, they let themselves out, leaving you stunned, full of their come, and thrilled about what you would find when you finally made it home tonight.

[yerimacoustic]

𝙢𝙞𝙭𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙚 ♡ joshua x reader

when your childhood friend, joshua finds an old mixtape both of you made years ago, he gets inspired to craft the perfect plan to tell you how he really feels. 📼🎧🥤⋆·˚ ༘ *

content warnings: roadtrip au, childhood friends to lovers, strong language, gossiping about losing the v card, literally everything goes wrong but it’s cute, fluff, soft angst since it talks about stress during college, joshua hong x gender neutral reader. both of you are graduating university! no smut but 18+, mdni! 4k wc

additional notes: this probably seems so rushed but idEC bc i needed some joshua fluff & i’m a proud supporter of the gentleman joshua agenda. also pls comment which songs you’d put on your mixtape with him, i left it kinda open to your imagination minus three songs <3 not proofread, sorrows, prayers

the end of joshua’s final semester in college came with its fair share of mixed emotions. among the many sentiments was crippling stress, seemingly the most commonly occurring one. it was nothing he wasn’t used to, being a full-time college student with a part time job and mostly insufferable roommates. four years prior, he began to dread the day he would have to pack up all of his belongings and move across town, where his own apartment was waiting.

and of course, he was right to rue the day.

it was a nightmare trying to schedule the move in date to line up with the time the u-haul had to be dropped off, especially since he couldn’t get access to his garage until a few hours after he had to turn in the keys. another $50 down the drain. luckily, he started packing his side of the dorm weeks in advance in order to spend a decent amount of time on his finals. even if he had a job lined up already, he wanted to leave a lasting good impression.

just as he was going through the last of his belongings, he found a small box hidden under his bed. judging by the cobwebs scattered along the small crate, he’d forgotten all about its existence until now. he checked the digital clock, the only thing left on his nightstand- he’d been cleaning for hours. he was entitled to a break.

so he opened the box, smiling to himself as he took in all of the souvenirs and knick knacks from years before. there were ticket stubs to the first ‘frozen’ movie, a few pieces of his favorite candy (which were beyond expired at that point), two of the lego avengers figurines, a few polaroids of him, seungcheol and jeonghan along with his mother, and..

“shut up.”

he had completely forgotten that he’d made this mixtape with you. ‘shua and y/n’s epic road trip.’ the year before you both started college, the two of you took a roadtrip across the town together. the night before you embarked on the spontaneous journey, the two of you spent hours meticulously crafting a playlist that would perfectly recount your trip. he always thought he’d left it in his car and you’d never mentioned it to him after the trip, so it simply left his mind.

but now that he was staring at the small disc, he wondered how it was even possible to forget something he cherished so fondly. it was the first trip the two of you went on together alone. you’d spent time together on school trips, even getaways with jeonghan and seungcheol, but you never seemed to get enough time alone together for joshua’s liking. even if it didn’t end with a kiss like he was hoping, it was still a memory that he held close to his heart.

that was when he devised a plan.

he reached across the floor for his phone, which had just barely finished charging. luckily, your contact was one of the only ones pinned on his phone, so dialing your phone number was a breeze. he held his phone to his ear, biting his nails in anticipation as he listened to the dial tone drone on.. and then he remembered you were in the middle of one of your lectures.

fuck.

‘hey this is y/n. i can’t reach my phone right now so leave a message or text me. bye.’ how was it that something as simple as a voicemail greeting from you could make his heart flutter?

“it’s joshua. call me back asap, i want to go on another road trip with you.”

—------------------------

going on a road trip near the end of the semester with deadlines and fees stacked upon both of your to-do lists probably wasn’t the brightest idea. there were probably a million better, more productive things both of you could be doing to prepare for the next chapter of your lives. even so, joshua waited in the parking lot of your apartment complex while tapping a nervous rhythm onto the steering wheel.

while he was waiting for you, he kept going over all of the contents in his dufflebag to ensure he had properly prepared for everything. unlike the last road trip you went on, this one would be an overnight holiday. toothbrush, shampoo, deodorant, phone charger.. he knew fully well he had everything he could need; he’d checked his overnight bag multiple times before he stepped out of the door. not only that, but he stuffed his hand in his jacket pocket multiple times to ensure the mixtape was still there.

“just calm down,” he sighed to himself after confirming, once again, that he had everything he needed. “it’s just y/n, just the one you’ve been crushing on since middle school. no big deal, you’ve done this before, you’ve gone on a trip with them before..”

he was quickly pulled out of his thoughts and mutterings once he saw you walking down the stairs. he noticed the way your eyes lit up once you noticed his car, causing his heart to race. he stepped out and ran to you, an infectious grin spreading across his lips as he pulled you into his arms. “thank you for coming with me. you have no idea how much i need this.”

you laughed as you threw your arms around his neck and hugged him just as tightly in return, his grip on you practically suffocating. in the best possible way, of course. “trust me, i’ve been needing a break too,” you sighed. “i can’t believe this is it. we’re graduating college.”

as for what that meant for the two of you, neither of you had a clue. you made sure to stay as close as possible during your time in university, planning as many get togethers as your schedules would allow, but halfway through your third year, your individual priorities seemed to outweigh any other extracurricular activities. while you weren’t able to see each other in person as often as you did when you were kids, joshua was just grateful that you kept in contact.

“i know. it’s a lot more stressful and anxiety inducing than i thought it would be.” he tried to hide his disappointment and dread as he broke from your embrace, keeping that warm smile as he led you to his car. after gently taking the bag that was slung over your shoulder and carefully tossing it in the backseat, he opened the passenger door for you. as always. “but enough about that,” he snickered, climbing into his seat and cautiously slamming the car door shut.

“you’re right. no work talks while we’re on vacation,” you giggled and shifted in your seat so you could face him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “so, what’s first on the itinerary, mr. hong?”

“well, first things first-” he made a dramatic show of pulling the mixtape out of his jacket pocket, the corners of his eyelids wrinkling as his smile grew brighter. “look what i found.”

your eyes widened as you gently snatched the cassette from him, your hand brushing over the tape where the title had been scribbled in permanent marker. “oh my god, i forgot we made this! where did you find it?”

“under my bed,” joshua laughed, shrugging. “i thought it seemed appropriate, with new beginnings and all... we don’t have to listen to it if you don’t want to, though.”

“not at all! i’m up for a trip down memory lane,” you laughed.

joshua began to pull out of the small parking lot, feeling particularly eager to get on the road. especially since it was early in the morning; he knew it would be a beautiful view as the sun would peek from its hiding spot behind the trees. “i was hoping you would say that. because.. i was thinking we could just follow the same exact itinerary as last time.”

“really? down to the number?” you sent a knowing smirk in his direction, even if he was too focused on the road to pay any mind to it outside of his peripheral vision. you watched him nod his head as his smile grew and grew, his cheerful grin as contagious as ever. “well, since we’re following tradition, i’ll buy your chai latte again this year.”

“guess that means i’m covering dinner again,” joshua chuckled lightly, the sound going straight to your heart. as per usual, of course.

“what a gentleman,” you mused while cautiously inserting the cassette tape into the car’s rather finicky slot. you always knew joshua’s car was ancient and worn down, so you were impressed, to say the least, that it had lasted throughout the entirety of his college career. “i forgot which songs we put on here. this’ll be fun.”

“me too, actually. but.. i do seem to remember someone was constantly begging me to add taylor swift to the playlist.”

“it was a phase! everyone was a die hard fan at one point in their life.”

“sure, we’ll go with that excuse,” joshua teased you without a hint of mocking or scorn in his voice. it was more like amusement.

it was nothing short of serendipitous, the way the sun began to rise to a more comfortable resting position for the rest of the day and light up the path for you and joshua just as ‘here comes the sun’ began to play. the song was slightly muffled, the speakers in the car radio being on their last leg- it was a picture perfect moment, regardless.

you rolled down your window, letting your hand drift along the current of the breeze passing by as joshua began to pick up speed. you heard him humming along, his soothing voice fitting perfectly with george harrison’s. and you smiled to yourself- if joshua wasn’t dead set on his current career path, you knew he could easily make a name for himself as a singer.

for whatever reason, the way he muttered the endearing term ‘little darling’ so gently before each chorus stood out to you most. his sickly sweet voice added so much more meaning to the lyrics. in that moment, really all you could do was hope that he didn’t notice the way you were trying to stop yourself from smiling like a fool.

but he did. out of the corner of his eye, he noticed you bashfully bowing your head.

he finally arrived at the coffee shop, which was a tiny shack just off the main road. it was a convenient little spot for any travelers that needed a caffeine boost on their journey. except..

“oh no.” it was closed??

indefinitely??

“it’s okay!” you were quick to assure him and pat his shoulder. “there’s a gas station just up ahead. we can probably just get some coffee there, my treat.”

joshua nodded in an effort to keep up the faith. “you’re right! it’ll be a bit watery but that’s fine- right?”

“right!” you agreed with a chuckle. honestly, to you, missing out on a delicious chai latte wasn’t the end of the world but joshuasuspected it was only the beginning of a series of setbacks.

and he proved to be correct: the coffee machine in the gas station was broken, leaving the two of you to settle for some canned nitro cold brews. while joshua’s paranoia grew, you looked at the glass half full; so it didn’t go exactly according to plan.. but at least the two of you had caffeine.

“so, what was the second thing we did?” you asked, taking the smallest sips of your coffee at a time. just as a precaution.

“picnic over at that rest stop. hopefully it’s not blocked or something,” he joked, all the while secretly praying that the universe wouldn’t twist his words. it seemed that the gods were in a playful mood that day; too bad it was at his expense rather than in his favor.

by now, you were near the end of ‘side a’ and ‘feeling good’ was playing. you could only hear michael bublé’s voice very faintly at this point, but the catchy song still brought a smile to your face. “i always liked this version the best,” you told joshua.

he beamed. “that’s because it is the best one. i taught you well.”

you helped your friend pull the basket and blanket out of his trunk once he’d parked the car near the top of a hill that overlooked a lake and a series of trees surrounding the body of water. it was a quaint spot, one that seemed to put the rest of the city on display for the two of you. and like many spots in the town, it came with its fair share of legends and stories.

“did you hear the rumors that vernon lost his v-card here?” you snickered between bites of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich that joshua was gracious enough to make for the two of you.

he nearly choked on the remnants of his sandwich, shaking his head as his fist flew to cover his mouth. he looked mortified, eyes growing nearly twice their size. “what?? no! how come no one ever told me about that?”

“are you kidding?? i could have sworn someone told you,” you snickered and reached over to repeatedly pat his back. “anyways, no one knows if it’s true or not.”

“he’s a chamber of secrets, that one.”

“he certainly is.”

once joshua had finally composed himself, a sigh of contentment left his lips. he took a deep breath, basking in the fresh mountain air and sunlight. there were a few clouds in sight, nothing that should have caused too much panic. just something to give the two of you the right amount of shade.

comfortable silence passed between the two of you and you laid back against the blanket in mirrored positions, propped up by one elbow. you looked over to joshua after feeling fixated on the small lake, focusing intently on his features, instead. his eyelashes, the curve of his lips, the way his hair fell so neatly over his face.

he truly was so naturally beautiful.

you only felt pressured to snap out of your daze when he began to tilt his head towards you. your gaze fell to the blanket smoothly while your finger began to brush along one of the patterns on the fabric. his mom had made it for him, along with several other quilts that he held very dear to his heart. “i guess it would be a pretty nice place to seal the deal.”

joshua laughed out loud, “y/n l/n, i’ve never heard you say something so scandalous in my whole life.”

you tilted your head back as his words brought upon a laugh of your own, “well, this year is all about new beginnings, isn’t it? we’re changing, we’re growing..”

“i guess so,” he mused once your voice trailed off. when you looked up, he was the one fixating on your features. it brought a heated sensation among your cheeks and a dumb smile to your lips. you noticed him swallow, attempting to be subtle while shifting to rest on his elbow more comfortably. “y/n, can you promise me something?”

“of course, joshua, anything.”

“can you promise that we’ll always try to stay in touch? no matter what?” there was a pang of sadness in both joshua’s tone and in his eyes. suddenly you felt guilty for taking your lifelong friendship for granted; the last thing you wanted was for someone so dear to you to feel undervalued.

“shua- of course i will.” feeling particularly bold, you reached out to grab his hand. “i’m sorry if i’ve been.. distant lately. i feel like we’ve both had a lot going on. and it’s not going to get any better once we’ve got our nine-to-fives, but.. you mean a lot to me. i want you to stay in my life.”

just then, the man in front of you appeared as if a large weight had been removed from his shoulders. you couldn’t believe that you witness his eyes actually light up in real time, his entire figure perfectly displaying how much lighter he felt. “i want you to stay,” he repeated after you.

the two of you weren’t directly confessing your true feelings towards each other just yet, but somehow.. those five words were enough. ‘i want you to stay.’

you stayed silent, as if to let them echo between the two of you. the fact that you weren’t sure how you were supposed to follow such a simple yet beautiful statement was also a contributing factor. after a moment, you parted your lips while still waiting for the right words to show themselves to you but instead, there was a loud crash of thunder.

the two of you were so mesmerized by the pair of eyes in front of you that neither of you noticed the air around you growing gray. joshua looked up towards the dark clouds with a sigh of disdain, “of course.”

you chuckled, helping him gather the napkins, paper silverware and dishes and the blanket. by some miracle, you were able to gather all of your belongings and hop in the car before the rain started falling down at an alarming rate and substance. “wasn’t michael just singing about how the sun was in the sky?”

“i guess its opposite day.” at that moment, joshua began to wonder if someone out there genuinely had it out for him. as he turned the key in the ignition, all he could hear over the raindrops clattering against his windshield was a loud sputtering noise. maybe.. maybe he was just imagining it? he tried twisting the key again, but it proved to be fruitless.

you chuckled awkwardly, “oh.. uh…”

“oh.. that’s fine!” joshua giggled sheepishly, keeping a calm presence that wasn’t alarming or unnerving in any way. there was no point taking his stress out on you when you were not the one at fault. no one was at fault, really, except maybe the man who truly believed a car that was around when dinosaurs roamed the earth could withstand another long roadtrip. after a few more tries, he gave up and pulled the key out of the ignition. “do you.. happen to have a signal?”

“out of battery?”

“yep,” he rubbed the back of his neck with an awkward grin, unable to make eye contact with you. “usually i have a portable charger but..”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off gently. “i don’t think i’ll be able to call anyone until the rain stops, but i’ve got a full battery.”

“cool. cool, cool.” joshua chuckled, trying not to upset you by showcasing his disappointment. he tried to look on the brightside and tell himself that the two of you were on an adventure, that this would be a great story to tell your friends and family when you got back, but any positive thought was quickly replaced by looming, dark ones instead. like how he wished that in possibly one of the most stressful times in his life, he wished that just one thing would go right. that he wished this getaway was as picture perfect as the last one.

“shua, you okay?”

he was alarmed by how well you seemed to have gotten at reading his countenance; especially since he thought he made great efforts to hide what he was truly feeling. he smiled immediately, nodding in reassurance. one thing he was not going to do was ruin the mood. “yeah, yeah i’m okay. you doing okay?”

you nodded, “yeah, i’m doing great.” you paused, hoping that you weren’t pressuring him to answer. one thing you were not going to do was pressure him into broaching a topic he wanted to avoid. so your tone grew hushed as you spoke again, “but i feel like there’s a lot more that you’re not telling me.”

joshua nodded faintly in understanding. he should have known that you would have been able to read him without any troubles, considering how long you had both known each other. “i just.. wanted this to be perfect. i know you’ve been stressed lately and well, i’ve been stressed lately so i thought this would be a nice, low stakes kind of trip. but.. I guess not.” he ended his thought with a light hearted chuckle and shrug of his shoulders.

you stayed quiet for a moment, focusing on the sleeve of his jacket while pondering his words. he had put so much effort in both of these road trips and you knew his heart was in the right place. frankly, you couldn’t care less if you didn’t get your chai lattes or if your picnic lasted about ten minutes or you might not make it to the hotel.

what mattered was that joshua was there with you through it all. and through it all, he kept an adorable smile and a cheerful attitude. when your gaze shifted to the windshield, raindrops hitting the glass in record time by now, you were reminded of another song that you added to the now unattainable mixtape.

and suddenly, you got an idea.

opening up spotify, you searched through taylor swift’s discography until you found the song that you thought was perfectly fitting for the moment: fearless. you knew it was a long shot but you pressed play and turned the volume all the way up before placing your phone in your jacket pocket, where it would be shielded from the rain. then, you stepped out into the downpour.

joshua furrowed his eyebrows out of worry but perked up once he saw you motion to follow in your footsteps. just as he slammed the door shut, he could have sworn he heard the lyrics very faintly, even if they were muffled by the rainfall. ‘and you know i want to ask you to dance right there…’

you took both of joshua’s hands in yours and twirled in three or four circles, giggling the entire time. both of you tilted your heads back, feeling the cold rain against your face. it was beautiful, soothing.. unconventional, maybe, but it was perfect. once the two of you stood upright, you took it a step further.

it was just like clockwork, the way his arms fell gracefully around your waist after yours were linked around his neck. you’d hugged him several times before, you knew of his warmth- but things felt different today. the two of you swayed to the upbeat melody with stupid, giddy smiles. neither of you said a word as the rain started falling faster and harder, the lyrics inaudible at this point.

but that didn’t stop either of you.

suddenly, joshua removed one of your hands from his neck and laced his fingers with yours. he skipped around the car with you while keeping a firm grip on your waist, guiding your movements. the two of you laughed and laughed until your ribs felt tough, until it was hard to breathe. your shoulders were hunched as you held on tighter to his shoulders, bringing yourself closer to him once he finally came to a stop.

neither of you had felt so free in a long time. for that one moment you two abandoned your inhibitions and responsibilities of the real world, everything felt perfect. even something as inconvenient as the rain was beautiful.

you remembered more of the lyrics. up until that moment, you’d never thought about how perfectly they encapsulated your feelings towards joshua. growing up with him and watching him run his free hand through his hair with a firm but gentle grip on the steering wheel, the calming and reassuring presence that he provided in your life, performing any mundane task or saying such beautiful things with such a casual tone.

absentmindedly making me want you.

he really didn’t have to do too much to be the perfect man, did he?

ignoring the nagging thought in the back of your mind about how cliché your actions were, you captured his lips in a gentle, chaste kiss as the rain fell harder around you. you hoped that it would properly communicate to him your true intentions and feelings while words were momentarily lost to you.

joshua, meanwhile, felt as if he was on cloud nine. maybe this trip didn’t go according to plan, maybe there were bumps along the road- but this trip had one thing the one from years before didn’t.

[littledovesnow]

a/n: hi hello here is 2.4kl of young!coriolanus x fem!reader <3 should i continueeeeee?

------

The margins of your notebook paper were running out of room, and Dean Highbottom didn’t seem to be nearing the end of his lecture. You weren’t even sure of why there were lessons and lectures about the war, you and your classmates were all old enough to remember living through it a mere decade ago.

You stifled a yawn, perking up when you saw the Hunger Games creator plop back onto the chair in the center of the lecture hall, hands already reaching for the bottle of morphling on his desk.

“Don’t forget, the top 24 students are to meet tomorrow morning in the Great Room. Do not be late.”

The rush of students leaving the room caused you to slow as you gathered your things, chewing on your lower lip out of nerves. No one knew what required the students to come back after hours, but there were rumors of it involving the Plinth Prize.

Coriolanus met you outside of the hall, small smile on his face. You were thankful for Tigris for setting you and her cousin up, as the icy blond known for his wits and sharp demeanor, was often the sole ray of light in your day-to-day.

“Have you heard for certain that this meeting tomorrow is about the Plinth Prize?” You asked, lacing your fingers with your boyfriend’s slender ones.

Coriolanus frowned, shaking his head. “No, I doubt it is about that. More than likely some absurd dedication gala, perhaps Plinth paid his way into University early.”

It was no secret the Capitol students thought lowly of their fellow classmate, ostracizing him not long after the Plinths gained access into the Capitol.

“Hm, I suppose so.” You pondered.

“Why? Did Dean Highbottom say anything?”

Shaking your head, you thanked Coriolanus as he opened the door for you, following you out into the brisk, afternoon air. “No, but Festus was gossiping again to the others. Saying how he’s got a lucky ticket into the Plinths’ pockets.”

“Festus didn’t even complete Dr. Gaul’s assignment last week.”

You let out a small laugh, coming to a stop at the roundabout in front of Citadel, looking up at your boyfriend. “You know, you and your family are always welcome for dinner. My mother has been wanting a reason to show of the new dinnerware one of the Avoxes found.”

Having been friends with Tigris for so long, and dating Coriolanus over the last few years, you weren’t privy to their financial woes, but you never pushed your own family’s wealth onto him.

“I promised Grandma’am I would help prune her roses tonight.”

“Oh, you softie. Better not let Arachne hear you have a heart, Corio. Word might get out.” You poked him in the bicep, teasing smile on your face.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, pressing his lips to your own before parting ways.

------

The room was alive and the chatter was loud when you stepped into the meeting hall for Dean Highbottom’s announcement and the reaping.

Having spotted your boyfriend and fellow classmates, you marched over, heels ponding on the marble floor.

“Oh, there she is. Your Coryo has been lost without you.” Arachne quipped, flute of posca in her hand.

“Well, at least someone cares about me. Can’t say the same for you.” You bit back, Coriolanus choking on his own posca as he wrapped his free arm around you.

Felix Ravenstill, who had just been at the buffet table, openly laughed at your remark.

“Now, now, children, let’s not ruin the mood.” Clemensia teased, giving a warm smile to you and Coriolanus.

“This lamb is scandalous; you guys have to try it!” Felix said, sucking the juice of his finger.

You made a face, stepping closer to your boyfriend as Festus chided Felix for his lack of manners.

“Hey, we’re here for the Plinth Prize, right?” Felix asked, setting his now empty plate on the tray of a passing Avox. “Because I heard my father mention that Dr. Gaul is here.”

You felt Coriolanus tense at the mention of the head Gamemaker. “What? Why would she be here for that?”

The group shrugged, Arachne catching the attention of the group as she chided the family of the hour, who had just strolled in. “Why the face, Y/N? Not a fan of your boyfriend’s friend?” She asked, smirk on her face.

“He’s not my friend, Arachne. I simply tolerate him.” Coriolanus spit back. “He’s District.”

You softly jabbed your elbow into your boyfriend’s ribs, noticing Sejanus was walking over to the circle.

“Hi, Sejanus.” You greeted him with a friendly smile, much to the dismay of your boyfriend. “Made it to the reaping.”

“Yeah, for once.” Festus added, earning a chuckle from Felix and Arachne.

Sejanus smiled at you, though his voiced a reply to Festus. “Yes, and you made it to graduation, Festus. We’re both shocked.”

You hid a smile in Coriolanus’ arm, Arachne’s questioning about the Plinth Prize garnering your attention.

“Now, now, I’m not going to ruin my father’s news. I know no one here actually likes him, but they do like his money.” Sejanus spoke, looking at the red-lipped girl. “You know what that’s like, right Arachne?”

Before anyone could reply, Dean Highbottom called the room to attention, and the anthem began playing, signaling everyone to take their seats.

You slipped into a chair between Coriolanus and Clemensia, tucking your cheek between your teeth. Coriolanus took your right hand in his left, twisting the ring on your pointer finger mindlessly.

“Good luck, Coryo.” You whispered, though you knew he was a shoe-in to win the Plinth Prize.

He didn’t reply, seemingly in a trance as he stared at Dr. Gaul.

“Clem,” You whispered, leaning to your other side. “Why you do think Dr. Gaul is here? The reaping doesn’t usually require her attendance.”

Shrugging, Clemensia had the same look as you. “Maybe something special for the tenth anniversary?”

You pondered that thought, only for your questions to be shut down when Dean Highbottom and Dr. Gaul announced that this year, the top 24 students would be mentoring a tribute. “The best mentor will receive the Plinth Prize.”

“What?” You asked, the sudden question capturing the attention of the students around you. “What do you mean best mentor? The best mentor will be the one who’s tribute wins the Games!”

“Miss Rosewing, mind your manners or I will demerit you on the spot.” Dean Highbottom spoke, silencing you.

Coriolanus’ knee was shaking, a telltale of the anxiety coursing through him. His family was depending on the Plinth Prize to keep there apartment, to afford food, to survive.

Arachne, who was just as distraught as you, spoke up this time. “What if I get the pathetic runt girl from one of the poor districts like 8 or 12? They’ll die in two minutes just as they did last year!”

“Now, now, Miss Crane, your role,” Dean Highbottom spoke, gesturing to the two dozen Academy rouge uniforms seated in front of him. “Is to create spectacles out of these tributes. Victory is only part of the considerations for the Plinth Prize. Your future rests on this last project.”

You heard Coriolanus swear under his breath, his hand moving from your own to on your knee, something to ground him in the moment.

“Oh, one more thing,” Dean Highbottom added, grabbing a small index card form his desk. “If you are caught cheating and giving your tribute an unfair advantage, you will have no future at all.”

You all sat in silence as the reaping played on the large screen in front of you, some cheers rang out from students who got tributes from the first few districts, though Sejanus’ outburst at getting a tribute from his home district broke the tension.

“District ten boy, Y/N Rosewing. Girl, Arachne Crane.” You hummed, looking at the boy in the screen.

“Oh, you’ll Iike this one, Miss Crane.” Dean Highbottom smirked from his spot. “District 12 girl, Coriolanus Snow.”

You snapped your neck to look at your boyfriend, who wore an unreadable expression on his face. “Coryo,” you whispered, sorrow in your voice.

He was one of the first out of his seat when the group was dismissed, and you were quick to follow.

------

Behind a pillar out front, you found Coriolanus staring out into the main road, watching cars go to and fro, silent.

You stepped next to him, looking up at his face. “It’ll be okay, Coryo.”

“Hah,” he laughed bitterly, looking down at you. “You don’t have to worry about a thing. You can just go back to your fancy house and and maids and full kitchen. I needed the Plinth Prize, Y/N.” He spoke, pure anger in his face.

You were taken aback, not used to seeing this side of Coriolanus. “Then make sure you show that tribute how to win the Games.”

“How?”

“You saw her sing when she was up on that stage. Give the Capitol a show. A reason to want he to win.” You suggested. “We have time to meet with the tributes tomorrow at the zoo. Figure out what she’s good at, then use it to your advantage, Coryo. Use it to win.”

------

You were livid when you walked into the zoo, seeing your boyfriend in the cage with the tributes- the animals.

Lucky Flickerman was talking to them, and you nearly burst a blood vessel when you saw their linked hands. This was not what you meant when you advised your boyfriend to figure out what Lucy Gray was good at.

Once the cameras and microphones were out of the way, you marched over to where the two were still talking. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Lucy Gray looked between you and Coriolanus, who had half a mind to have a sheepish look on his face. “Who’s askin’?”

You looked her up and down, in the bright dress Arachne likened to a clown the previous day. “Did you force him into that cage? Get your little friends to threaten him?” “Hey, Y/N, she didn’t do anything.” Coriolanus spoke up, stepping between the two of you even though there was a gate in the way. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

Lucy Gray’s lips formed an O, and she had an apologetic look on her face. “I wasn’t aware, I do apologize.”

You hummed, taking one last look at your boyfriend before heading over towards Arachne and your tribute, water bottle in hand.

“Tanner,” you smiled, passing the water bottle between the fence posts. “Do you need any medicine, are they feeding you?” You asked, kneeling to get some bread out of your bag.

Your tribute, Tanner, was grateful and kind as you two spoke, a stark contrast to Arachne and her tribute, Brandy, who she was teasing with water.

“Arachne, watch-” You began to advise the girl, though her tribute was too quick, and in the blink of an eye all Hell broke loose.

You watched in what felt like slow motion as Brandy smashed the glass bottle into Arachne, piercing her in the neck.

“No!” You cried, moving to cover the wounds with your hands. You vaguely felt glass poking and breaking skin in your hands, and gunshots from the Peacekeepers.

Arachne wasn’t a friend, but she was a classmate, someone who you had spent most of your life sitting around. You tried to save her, but the blood gurgled up and out, life draining from her eyes.

“Arachne, hey- don’t, it’ll be okay! Someone’s coming, just hold on!” You cried, aware of arms pulling you off of the deceased mentor.

------

Coriolanus was discussing getting a guitar for Lucy Gray when he heard the noise.

Looking over, he felt his heart shoot into his throat when he saw Arachne, you, and a mess of blood on the ground. “Y/N!” He called, trying to evade the Peacekeepers between the two of you.

The tributes were ushered back against the wall of the cage, the public and mentors ushered out of the zoo.

Coriolanus saw the dead tribute on the ground, and you were on top of Arachne, hands to her bleeding neck. “Let me go, that’s my girlfriend!” He begged the Peacekeepers, their hold on him unwavering.

He finally broke free of their grasp when one of the tributes threw a rock over, and Coriolanus darted over towards you, pulling you off of Arachne’s body.

“It’s okay, hey, look at me.” Coriolanus walked the two of you away from the scene, all while you were still in a panicked daze.

“Can you hear me?” He asked, moving some hair out of your face. “I need to know you’re with me.”

You finally met your boyfriend’s eyes, breath slowing down a bit. “Arachne- she-”

“I know, I know.” Coriolanus felt his heart break at the look on your face. “Deep breaths, okay?”

You nodded softly, taking a few shaky breaths, looking down at your hands.

Coriolanus followed your gaze, frowning when he saw a few pieces of glass in the palms of your hands.

He led you over to one of the medics, who seemed to be the zoo’s veterinarian. “She was cut trying to save our classmate. Can you help?”

The vet nodded, having you sit on the ledge near him. “I don’t have any morphling, this will hurt. I apologize.”

You nodded, still breathing heavily from the adrenaline leaving your body. Coriolanus stood next to you, rubbing your upper back and keeping an eye on everyone around.

“Will she need stitches?” Coriolanus asked, frowning when he felt you wince as a larger piece of glass was taken out of your palm.

Nodding, the vet pointed to a small section under your thumb. “Only here I believe. You will want to get this looked at in a proper hospital. Make sure no infection is present.”

You nodded once, looking away as the vet began threading a needle to stitch your skin.

Coriolanus fished a water bottle out of his bag, unscrewing the top and offering it to you. “Dr. Gaul better just call off these games. One tribute is already dead, what is the point?”

You hummed, thanking the vet as he finished stitching your hand. “I don’t want to think about the Games right now.”

Nodding, you and Coriolanus slowly walked back to the Corso, back to the Snow penthouse.

[xoruffitup]

Hold On To Me Darling, Act 1

Hii and welcome to my HOTMD Act 1 run-down! This post is mostly intended for a) people who won't have the chance to see the play, and b) people who've seen it and would like to relive it!

I would NOT recommend reading if you have tickets for an upcoming performance, as I do include a lot of dialogue. I wouldn't want to spoil some of the best/funniest moments before anyone's first viewing, so be forewarned that what follows is extremely detailed!!!! I'm basically trying to recreate the viewing experience as much as possible for those it won't be accessible to. <3

(and let me give fair warning, this is only Act 1. I apologize for the cliffhanger but this was already so long, it was time to post!)

LET'S GO! :)

SCENE 1

Adam’s in black jeans, a dark blue henley with the top button open to show three necklaces underneath – one strung with a guitar pick – and a black cowboy hat. 

Open on Adam/Strings and his assistant, Jimmy, mid-conversation in a hotel room. Jimmy is attempting to show Strings a video on his phone “from those two girls you met last night – they just sent it.”

Strings, hands raised in front of him in disbelief/outrage: “I don’t give a damn who it is. What do you think my mama would think if she knew I was up here watching pornographic movies on your damn cell phone?”

Jimmy: “I just thought it would cheer you up, is all.”

Strings: “How in hell is that supposed to cheer me up?! I’m in mourning!”

Jimmy switches tactics, asks Strings if he wants a drink.

Strings: “No, I don’t want a drink, I want my mama!”

Strings proceeds to speed through a series of rants on a variety of topics, talking a mile a minute: how Strings is relying on Jimmy to keep the press at bay at his mother’s funeral; his lack of privacy; the declining state of American culture and its complete lack of boundaries.

Strings deflates into renewed misery as he reaches the end of his rant, claiming “This ain’t about me.” (Jimmy dryly remarks: “Kinda seems like it is.”) “No, this is about Mama, and making it up to her for all those wrong turns I took when she was here.” Adam usually grows emotional here, voice wavering and head tilting upwards as he fights off tears.

Jimmy briefly leaves him alone – just long enough for Strings to pick up a guitar, briefly attempt to play/sing something, only to throw the guitar to the floor and savagely stomp it to pieces.

Jimmy returns, mourns the mess. “Help me, Jimmy, I’m lost,” Strings pleads, unraveling. 

Strings briefly collapses onto a sofa, but a moment later, he’s off on the next mile-a-minute series of topics: how they can’t get his brother on the line about plans for their mother’s funeral because his brother has a landline and no call waiting “like primitive man.” Next, on to Strings’ determination to find his estranged father so he can attend the funeral. “If that bastard’s still breathing, I want him at that funeral.”

Each new rant seems to end with Strings only more morose and miserable, until Jimmy suggests, “How about a good rub down, you’ll sleep like a baby.” Strings agrees, though clearly his heart isn’t in it. 

Jimmy gets a phone call from the director of the movie Strings is currently working on (that “damn space movie”), which involves Jimmy speaking German and Strings saying “Guten tag” down the line in his Tennessee accent.

Then there’s a knock on the door – it’s the massage therapist Jimmy called for Strings. She begins setting up the massage table while Jimmy leaves the room. She introduces herself as Nancy, apologizes for being flustered and star-struck in front of him, then begins talking him through the “entirely unique” selection of massage therapies offered by the hotel. This is overwhelming to Strings, who becomes visibly emotional. Nancy asks him what’s wrong, he tries to say “nothing,” Nancy replies “Well crying is not nothing. Now let’s get those clothes off and you can tell ol’ Nancy all about it.”

And then, ladies and gentlemen, he proceeds to do just that!!!!!!!!!!!!! Strings strips off his shirt and pants, then lays down on his front on the massage table in just black boxer briefs.

Nancy is very much affected: “My goodness! Someone’s certainly been putting in their time at the gym!”

Strings, dismissive: “Not really. I got four trainers. I don’t do shit, I just lie there and let them move me around.”

Nancy, very much like she’s talking to a 6 year old: “Is it your trainers doing those reps? Is it your trainers burning those calories? Now, who’s doing those reps, who’s burning those calories?!”

Strings, face pressed into the massage table yet still managing to sound pouty,: “…..me.”

And THEN, ladies and gentlemen, Nancy proceeds to give Strings a massage, thoroughly and visibly massaging his naked back and even climbing up onto the table at one point on her hands and knees to work him over. A sheet covers him for part of this sequence, but there’s still so much arms and shoulders on display, dear lord!!

Strings tells her a bit about his mother and their fraught relationship, then rants a bit more about the trials of fame and how even though he feels like he’s met “every girl in the United States,” he’s never met one who sees him for himself. They only see him as “something” they’re after. “But I don’t want to be a something no more, I want to be a person.”

Conversation shifts to Nancy – he asks if she has a family (all while she continues massaging away). She does: a husband and two little twin girls. Even as Nancy talks about her family/husband, the tension begins ratcheting up between them as she starts massaging his lower back and thighs. (Nancy: “I love my husband and if there’s one thing I hate it’s disloyalty…. My god, these thighs.”) 

Meanwhile, Strings is essentially moaning at this point, as he leans up on his elbows on the massage table. (Yes this IS every bit as intense and unbelievable as you’re imagining – words cannot do this experience justice alkdfjaslkfj) He’s laying there shirtless, arms, chest, and shoulders fully on display, breathing hard, moaning, pushing his hair back out of his face, necklace chains jingling against his chest…. My GOD, dear reader, I’m about to pass out just trying to describe it!!!!

Nancy finally tells him he can turn over onto his back, but he hurriedly grabs the sheet to keep his waist/crotch covered and says he needs a minute. Sitting up, he asks her if they could just talk a while. 

Nancy: “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Strings, it’s a normal reaction.”

Strings: “Well… I ain’t embarrassed.”

Nancy: “Oh.”

The tension keeps ratcheting up even once Strings is dressed. Feeling what may be the stirring return of inspiration, Strings asks Nancy if she would sit on the couch for a moment while he plays “a little something” for her.

Nancy, increasingly flustered: “No, but I could sit there and die.” Raucous laughter from the audience as she rushes to sit down on the couch as instructed.

Strings again attempts to play a song. He gets a few bars in this time (with hilarious pauses as he keeps glancing at Nancy, then repeating the same bar), before again hitting the same emotional block. 

“My heart is broken,” he tells her, voice breaking too. He’s sitting on the sofa with the guitar in his lap, head bowed over the instrument.

“Oh Strings, you’re just about breaking mine.” 

Nancy reaches out to him. Kissing begins, then breaks off. Strings asks if she’s worried about her husband. No, her real issue is his rumored engagement to starlet Katie Crosby. He tells Nancy in no uncertain terms that the engagement was just made up by the press and he’s not involved with her anymore. 

At an impasse on what to do about their growing physical attraction and the attendant moral quandaries, Strings recalls Nancy mentioned that she plays the guitar. He asks if she would sing something for him. 

Nancy, while actively picking up the guitar: “Oh I could never sing in front of you!”

Seated next to Strings on the couch, she proceeds to sing a hilariously solemn rendition of Silent Night, even more hilariously accompanied by Jimmy, who appears out of nowhere in the doorway to harmonize with her. Strings stops her just before they reach “Sleep in heavenly peace,” saying: “I’m sorry, it’s just… them lyrics.” 

Nancy: “Oh my gosh, what an insensitive song selection!” She hurriedly lays the guitar aside.

Kissing begins again, followed by a few more interruptions. Moral scruples are again overcome when Nancy tells him “It’s just… I’ve had a crush on you since trade school, I can’t help how I feel.” Strings: “Eh, okay.” Then, when Strings mentions his mama as they’re kissing again, Nancy asks, “Oh, are you calling me your mama by mistake?” Strings: “What? No!! That’d be sick!”

But they’re back at it soon enough, and the scene fades to black as they at last commit.

SCENE 2

Adam’s in black jeans, an olive green button-up shirt, chains and hat again. 

Strings enters a cramped but cozy living room where his brother, Duke, sits watching TV. Strings is fielding calls from Nancy and Jimmy about the arrangements for Nancy to fly down for the funeral. Duke complains about the phone ringing off the hook, then they lapse into stilted conversation. First about a new planet that may or may not be discovered in the outskirts of the Kuiper Belt (Strings: “I ain’t really been following it that closely”), then about Duke’s current job. 

The atmosphere grows testy when Duke says Strings should “come down off your high horse and drink a beer with normal people every once in a while.” Strings takes offense to this, reminding Duke of when he once lent Duke money that has yet to be repaid. They agree they aren’t as close as they once were as kids, and that they have little to talk about these days. This leads to Strings confiding in Duke the plan that’s been growing in his mind: to “make a change,” move back to his hometown, and get a job at “Ernie’s feed store.”

Duke thinks this is nothing short of a ludicrous idea. “I think you’re cracking up if you’re thinking of working at the feed store. You’re telling me you’re gonna drag your world-famous ass to the feed store every morning like you ain’t the third biggest cross-over star in country music?!”

This leads to an argument about Strings’ work ethic, and Strings vehemently insisting to Duke that he works harder than anyone else in this town. (“I get up at 5 AM every morning of my goddamn life, when I’m filming! And when I’m on the road, boy you don’t even know what that’s like. If you think I got everything in life handed to me on a silver platter, you try coming along on one of them damn Japanese press junkets.”)

Cycling back to the feed store idea, Duke says, “In case you don’t remember, I worked there for two years after I quit school.”

Strings: “Course I remember, that’s what gave me the idea.”

Duke: “Well, let me just describe it to you, in case you go the wrong impression. Every morning, you gotta get up and go to the fucking feed store.” (Huge laugh at this every time.) “You gotta get there at 5, 5:30 AM, open up and stand there behind the counter while people asking for hog feed, chicken feed, cat food, pelleted horse feed, critter ritter crunch horse treats….” This list of increasingly ridiculous types of feed goes on for about a solid minute, and it’s literally one of the most impressive and hilarious moments in the entire show. I love every time CJ gets a round of applause for this entire spiel because he 1000% deserves it!!

Yet this fails to dampen Strings’ enthusiasm for his scheme, no matter how harebrained. “Ain’t gonna let you tear me down, Duke.”

They cycle through the topic of marriage, women, and the “bullshit” their mother used to give Strings over the women he dated. “Wasn’t all bullshit,” Strings admits, then tells Duke about Nancy, how he’s “never been with someone like her for more than a few hours at a time.” He opines on how she’s “Warm-hearted, simple, flexible, unambitious” and how she’s got him “hook, line, and sinker.”

Duke can’t resist asking about the alleged engagement to Katie Crosby. Eagerly shifting to sit on the arm of his easy chair, he asks: “Ain’t it true you broke it off, and she flew to Afghanistan to hand out buttons or what?” 

Strings: “No no, she was struggling for peace!”

Duke: “Getting her picture taken in one of them topless burqas?”

Strings: “It wasn’t topless, it was mesh, a fine metallic mesh! It was a statement of sexual enlightenment and solidarity with the women of Afghanistan!”

Duke: “Is it mesh even if you can see right through it?”

Strings: “If it’s finely woven!”

Strings again shuts down the Katie-engagement rumors and they focus again on the topic at hand: Strings possibly moving back home. 

Strings: “I’m gonna do it, Duke. I’m gonna be happy. Hell, I feel happier already.”

SCENE 3

Hold on tight to your armrests for this look: Black suit, white dress shirt with the top buttons undone, necklaces still visible underneath, black snakeskin boots and hat in hand. I swear he has never looked Lorger.

Strings and Duke step into a backroom at the church, seeing their mother’s casket for the first time. Jimmy comes in, telling Strings that family members at the funeral are asking for his autograph and that Jimmy’s collected their funeral programs. 

Strings is appalled – “they really want me to autograph my mama’s funeral programs?!” – and quickly sends Jimmy on his way. 

Strings complains to Duke about it, Duke quickly shuts him down, telling him they should focus on mama. Strings admits he was out of line. They share a hug before Duke steps out of the room.

Strings then fully notices for the first time that a young woman’s sitting in the room. He asks who she is, and she introduces herself as Essie.

Strings needs a minute to process this, then appears in disbelief. “You’re my cousin Essie? That little girl on the bicycle with the fringey basket going ‘scuse me!’ when there was never no one in your way? Well damn, you done grown up!”

They sit down together as Strings attempts to catch up with her on how she’s doing, but awkward moments ensue as she tells him both her father and husband recently passed away. She wrote Strings letters letting him know, but Strings “must have been on tour.” 

Strings: “That’s the worst thing I ever heard, losing both daddy and husband at the same time.”

Essie: “Yeah, well…. They were drag racing.”

Strings: “… they was drag racing each other?!”

Essie: “Daddy just loved drag racing. They ran each other off the road down that narrow pass.”

Strings: “… I wonder who was winning.” (Huge audience laugh)

Awkward catch-up now behind them, Essie tells Strings that she grew very close to Strings’ mother over the past year. Strings is surprised to hear this at first: “You didn’t find her too censorious?”

Essie: “She was never mean-spirited, just a little gruff. I don’t know how I would have gotten through the last year if not for her.”

Then follows the first time Strings ever really falls silent for any considerable period of time. He’s visibly both touched and shaken as Essie tells him about the days she spent with his mother, smoking cigarettes, baking pies, and talking the whole day long. (“We’d bake fourteen different kinds of pie.”) 

Essie also corrects Strings’ impression that his mother found him a terrible disappointment. She tells him how his mother had all of his records, how protective she always was of him, how “if anyone spoke harshly of you in front of her, they never did it again.”

Strings compulsively reaches to take her hand. “I can’t thank you enough for talking to me like this, Essie.”

Essie: “It’s a pleasure to talk with you, Strings, to be some comfort to you. I’m all alone in this world now and she meant a great deal to me.”

Their quiet moment is interrupted by Jimmy and Nancy, who just arrived straight from the airport. The tone of the scene immediately changes with Nancy’s arrival, as Nancy turns attention to how she would have preferred if Strings could have picked her up from the airport himself, and how she wishes she could have come into the church together with him because she “would have felt more protected.”

Strings gamely reassures her, and has Jimmy make room in the front family pews so Nancy can sit with him during the service. He then asks to be left alone with his mama for a few minutes.

Here comes one of the most moving and beautiful moments of the play. Alone in the room, Strings perches on a stool beside the open casket and, looking in, haltingly begins to speak. 

“Hey, Mama. It’s me, Clarence. I don’t know what to say…” (Pause as he begins to grow emotional. Usually one of his hands begins to clench and unclench in a fist, and you see his face begin to flush as tears slowly rise in his eyes.) “I know we didn’t always get along, but I always knew you were on my side. …. I’m helpless without you, Mama. How am I supposed to light my way through this terrible world?” 

At some shows, he’ll carefully reach into the casket at this point and adjust something inside, as if he’s straightening a blanket. Nancy enters again at this moment, asking if he’s ready. 

In my favorite performance yet, Adam was so emotional at this point that he had to reach for tissues from a box nearby and fully sobbed into the tissues a few times before he could face Nancy.

Nancy embraces him, then strangely (and hilariously) tries to reassure him: “You have to remember that you’re alive and she is dead.” He, through tears, gamely tells her he doesn’t know what he would have done without her these past few days.

SCENE 4

Adam wears the same on-fire suit look from the last scene

Essie’s living room – she’s just been woken by a late-night knock on the door. She hears, “It’s your cousin, Strings” from outside and lets him in. 

Enter Strings, a bit drunk and out of sorts. “I’m clear-eyed, I’m not a danger or nothing,” he assures her. “It’s just, I was at the Hyatt with Nancy and I didn’t have no one to talk to.” Huge laugh from the audience as Strings sits, struggling his way out of his suit jacket. 

Essie offers to make him some coffee, he agrees that would be a good idea. He ambles around her living room, commenting on a picture on the wall of Essie with his mother. He compliments her photography, saying, “I knew you had some talent in you, from the first time I saw you.” 

Strings soon descends back into grief, recalling with shame his initial feelings of relief upon hearing his mother had passed away. “I wish I was dead,” he despairs. 

Essie immediately comforts him, assuring him that these are normal feelings, that he’s not a bad person.

Strings scoffs at this, pointing out that he’s just left Nancy all alone in a strange city. 

Essie: “She’s a big girl, she’ll understand.”

Strings: “That’s what you think. Anyway. Fuck ‘er. (Huge audience laugh) I didn’t ask for her to stick her nose into my business, I don’t need that bullshit. All my life I’ve been looking for a girl like you, and look what I always end up with.”

Essie, caught off guard: “That’s a funny thing to say.” She stands from where she’d been kneeling beside where he sits on her sofa.

Strings, watching her with rapt attention and unable to help himself: “Man, you sure grown up pretty.”

When Strings stands and attempts to lean into her space, speaking more compliments about how there’s a “radiance” to her, Essie quickly deflects. She tells him he’s just worked up, “overwrought.”

“Never thought I’d find you in my own backyard,” says Strings.

Essie objects: “Stop it now, this isn’t your backyard. This is my living room. And I don’t believe you mean a word you say.”

Strings makes a few more charming come-ons, assuring Essie that he’s trying to change.

Then Essie delivers the line that always brings the house down: “That’s good and I wish you luck. Only… it’s 2 AM, and we’re cousins.”

Strings, after a long pause for laughter, waves his hand dismissively: “Distant cousins!”

Essie successfully wrangles Strings back onto the couch, then goes to fetch the coffee. She asks how he takes his coffee; he replies, “Black. Black as my fucking heart.” (Big audience laugh.)

Essie returns, carrying two mugs of coffee. When Strings tries to help her with the cups, some coffee splashes over the edge onto her hand. They both kneel down, rushing to clean it up.

Essie: “I think I burned myself.”

Strings: “Let me see. Yeah… it’s all red. (Dramatic pause as he holds Essie’s hand.) … Red like a rose in the shape of a hand.”

Once the ridiculousness of his comment passes, the air grows serious between them again. She stands, and he quickly follows, making an earnest appeal to her now.

Strings: “I live in a world with no real feelings at all. And that’s what I’m in need of now – and I think you are too.”

Essie rebuffs him, telling him firmly that it’s not fair for him to throw himself at her feet like this when he’s going to be leaving town with another woman in a matter of days. Strings relents: “I guess I’ve troubled you enough. Besides, Nancy is waiting for me.”

Essie: “Is it very serious between you two?”

Strings: “Feels about as serious as death.”

As he collects his suit jacket and moves towards the door, Strings says what he likes about Nancy is that “she’s real.” He mentions that she has two little girls (“Always wanted some kids. Maybe this is my chance to pick up a couple on spec.”) Just about ready to leave, he asks Essie if she likes kids.

Essie: “Of course I do, or I wouldn’t be a kindergarten teacher.”

Strings, rapidly coming back into the room again: “Is that what you do?!”

He plops right back down into a chair again, commenting that he could talk to her all night, and how good that feels. Essie says she’s glad for that, that she wants him to think of her as a friend.

Strings: “It ain’t easy thinking of you as a cousin, I’ll tell you that.”

Essie successfully corrals him back to the door, only for him to ask, “Will you shake hands with me, Essie?”

He holds on for a few extra beats, until she says, “Strings, you’re embarrassing me.” They lock eyes, neither of them let go of each other’s hands, and then they’re both leaning in at the same time. Almost just as soon as the kiss begins, Essie pulls away, hurrying to put distance between them.

Essie: “You have to go now, I mean it.”

Strings: “Please don’t send me away, think what I’m going through.” 

Essie: “I wish you’d think of what I’m going through. I find this very overwhelming.”

Strings: “I know, me too, darling. But ever since I saw you, sitting there in your little… funereal outfit… (Huge audience laugh every time) I felt a connection to you, and I think you felt it too.”

Essie objects that she’s concerned about how she’ll feel the next day if they give in to their attraction. She knows he’s leaving soon, and that it’s uncertain whether he’ll ever actually move back home like he said he might. She palpably begins to give in to her yearning, though, as she says, “If you only knew how lonely I’ve been.”

Strings approaches slowly, and this time she doesn’t step away. He reaches for her, and she doesn’t pull away as he slowly, tenderly cups her face. He gradually leans down. They kiss, once, twice, and then fade to black.

END ACT 1 

Soon to come: ACT 2!!!! :) Feel free to send me any asks or comments about Act 1! Obviously I'm more than a little in love with this play and it's literally my favorite thing to talk about!!! Hope to see everyone back here for the Act 2 play-by-play very soon!

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Healed (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @spaceslayer​​​

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x gender neutral reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Established relationship. Fluff. You hurt yourself at home and Morpheus tends to you. 

Warnings: injury, blood, physical intimacy.

Word Count: 1.4k

Sandman Masterlist

-------------------------

Sunday mornings were your favourite part of the week and this particular one was proving to be no exception.

Glass of orange juice in hand, you chatter away to Morpheus about some of your most pleasant childhood memories. He is seated next to you in your bed and looks devastatingly beautiful lounging against the numerous squishy pillows arranged behind him. A green coloured plate sits on your lap, scattered with golden toast crumbs and blobs of melted butter.

The conversation you are having has been influenced by the dreamscapes you had lived in last night. You had been overflowing with nostalgia when you had awoken and this had led to you opening the door to memories of your younger self.

It always brings Morpheus immense pleasure to know that his dream creations not only satisfy you but also inspire you to open up to him. Talking about yourself was not something that came naturally, and goodness knows, Morpheus could relate to that, therefore it felt wonderful to see you so uninhibited. The gratification your partner is experiencing from this is reflected in the smile gracing his ethereal features.

You stop talking when you notice his expression.

“What is it?” You are overcome with a rush of self-awareness.

Morpheus takes your free hand and squeezes. “Nothing. I am simply wondering whether the images conjured in my mind by your stories match what you were actually like as a child.”

You take a sip of your zesty drink. “I have some photographs, if you want to see them.”

He strokes tenderly over your cheekbone. “I would like that very much.”

You throw off the duvet and exit the bed.

A chest of drawers stands across the room. You walk to it and kneel down to access the bottom compartment. It’s the one that induces unstoppable reminiscing when you open it. Ticket stubs. Birthday cards. School reports. Photo albums. You reach for the collection you want to show Morpheus and go to push yourself up to standing again.

Unfortunately, the manoeuvre goes slight awry and you lose your balance, falling forwards and smacking the bridge of your nose on the edge of the unit.

The impact is painful and sends aftershocks down to the roots of your teeth and up across your forehead. 

“Oww,” you comment in an undertone, sitting back on your bottom.

Morpheus is by your side in an instant.

“Are you alright, my love?”

You are looking down, a little dazed. “Hmm?”

His cool hands cup your face and he gently encourages you to look at him. His countenance shifts from worry to something stronger.

“You’re bleeding.” His tone is level but you cannot deny the sense of panic that is also there.

You reach a finger up, grimacing as you make quick contact with the mark; it comes away smeared with red.

“Oh dear,” you murmur.

“Where are your healing supplies?” Morpheus asks. 

You can't help but giggle.

"What is it?"

“Healing supplies,” you laugh again. "How old are you?"

He quirks an eyebrow.

You frown. "Hang on, don't answer that."

You begin to feel an unpleasant trickle of liquid working its way over your skin. It is a sizeable amount; you position your hands under your chin to catch any drips.

"There’s some stuff in the kitchen. Top shelf of the big cupboard.” You eventually clarify.

“Stay here. I will return presently.”

He gets up with enviable fluidity and goes downstairs.

Sitting alone on the floor, it makes you feel a like a lost child so you get up and position yourself on the bed. The initial shock is beginning to fade and is leaving you with a pain that flares with every beat of your heart. The escape of blood is showing no signs of stopping just yet either. You tip your head back to try and slow its release.

Morpheus’ footsteps back to you are silent as ever meaning you only know he has returned when you hear him speak.

“I thought I told you to wait over there,” he chides softly.

He has paused in the doorway, a small bowl of water and the basket of first aid supplies in each hand.

You look down coyly. "I know. But at least this way we know I probably don't have concussion."

He purses his lips but does not argue the matter any further. 

You take the bowl from him once he has sat beside you. The astringent smell of diluted disinfectant whacks your nasal nerves.

Morpheus rolls up the sleeves of his long sleeved top, revealing his slender, pale forearms. He leans closer to inspect the injury properly.

“How deep is it?” You ask fearfully.

“It will not require stitches, only a dressing.”

His long fingers pull out a handful of fluffy white from the cotton wool packet. He dunks it in the water for a brief interval and squeezes the excess liquid out.

He puts his hand on your jaw bone to steady you.

"This will likely cause discomfort,” he warns.

He isn't wrong. You are wincing sharply as soon as he makes contact and your hands twitch with a desire to make him stop. Involuntary tears mist your vision as the disinfectant does its work.

“I apologise,” he whispers, ocean eyes full of sadness for the further pain he is inflicting.

“It's okay. Keep going."

He continues with a meticulousness that completely matches his character.

You flinch again and again, resorting to sitting on your hands to keep them from blocking him. You know this is necessary and do not want it to last any longer than it has to.

“I have nearly finished,” he reassures, as if he heard your thoughts.

“You promise?” Your voice cracks a bit from the sensory overload.

“I promise,” his reply is husky and soothing.

Less than thirty seconds later, Morpheus is dropping the soiled cotton in the nearby bin. He appraises the area again.

“It’s clotting now.” His tension lessens a fraction and he reaches for the basket once more. He pauses, caught between the pads of gauze, the rolls of bandages and the box of plasters.

Your focus drifts between his hands and the expression on his face. You have always found it fascinating to watch Morpheus work and even more so to watch him thinking.

In the end, he looks to you for guidance.

“I think a plaster will work,” you say with a little smile.

He nods his thanks and picks through the box to look for one of a suitable size.

After one final wipe to remove the new spills of blood, Morpheus applies the plaster to your face. He eases the edges flat against your skin and pulls away.

“How does that feel?” He holds your gaze unwaveringly.

“It’s unsurprisingly sore but otherwise comfortable.”

“Good, and you have not developed any dizziness?”

“No.”

He is visibly relieved. He then comes closer again and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. The simple act makes you feel so beloved that you could swoon right there. You are infinitely grateful to have him to take care of you both physically and emotionally.

“Thank you,” you say wistfully.

“Of course, my love.” The way he is looking at you is blush-inducing.

“What now?” You inquire.

He smiles mischievously. “As your healer, I would encourage you to stay in bed for the remainder of the morning and rest.”

You grin at his joke. “Oh, well in that case, I guess I should follow your advice.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. "Where will you be?"

You know that he is eventually going to be needed back in the Dreaming. It was something you were accustomed to but it never failed to bring on a hint of melancholy.

He smiles, reading between the lines of your question.

"Right beside you, if you'll have me. Someone has got to keep an eye on you, my fragile little human."

"Sounds good to me." You look over to the photo album that had been left on the floor. "Are you ready to be overwhelmed with the cuteness that is me as a toddler?"

“More than ready, my love.”

You laugh and bring your lips to his.

[strange-and-off-putting]

Smegtober Prompt 12: Promise

I'm working on catching up, but I'm going out of order. These will all show up on AO3 eventually, but I don't want to upload out of order, so when I've caught up and fill in the gaps, they'll be there. It's still the 13th in my time zone, so I am, like, 1 and a half prompts behind, lol. This one took the prompt real loosely.

For the first week, he tried desperately to recreate the situation that landed him on Mimas in the first place; pub-hopping, getting blind drunk, and hoping for the best, thinking that maybe whatever landed “Emily Berkenstein” on Mimas would land David Lister safely back at his home in Liverpool.  But after a week of waking up on the bathroom floor of a pub, under a bush by a bus stop, in hospital (twice), and in the drunk tank (no fewer than three times), Lister started thinking that maybe he needed to be a little more intentional with his plan.

So instead of leaving it to chance, he started simply sneaking aboard ships. Passengers vessels, though the most desirable, were far from the best option to sneak aboard; there was far too much gatekeeping, too many checkpoints, “where’s your ticket?,” “can I see your ID?,” and so on.  So Lister considered the next best thing – postal ships. The postal ships that docked at Mimas had the benefit of being direct flights and regularly scheduled; a fleet of hundreds in a constant rotation, from Earth to the Saturnian moon.  

And while the ships themselves were closely guarded, there were numerous post boxes throughout the city that no one gave a second thought to. So on the first night of his second week stranded on Mimas, instead of getting blackout drunk and hoping for the best, Lister got simply moderately pissed, picked a lock, and wedged himself into a post box.

It was only a few hours later, when the service courier came to retrieve the mail, that he opened the access door to the impressively contorted torso of Dave Lister.  

He recoiled quickly, then took a moment to process what he was seeing.  He gingerly pulled open the mail tray and peered inside.  A pair of brown, bloodshot eyes looked out at him, sheepishly. “Hello,” the courier said, awkwardly, not really sure what sort of greeting was appropriate for the situation. “Hey.” “Um… are you okay?” The courier shuffled on his feet.  He looked up, glancing left and right at the still bustling streets.  He was trying to gauge if anyone else was seeing this, though admittedly, given where they were, what was transpiring in front of him didn’t even breach the top five most scandalous things currently occurring in the immediate vicinity.  Lister's brow furrowed as he tried to shift his weight. “Uh, dunno?” he said, grunting against the tight confines of the post box.  “Can’t feel much of anything below my belly button.  Right foot’s gone all staticky and honestly, I’m not sure what’s going on with my left.  I’m assuming it’s still there, since I ain’t gone nowhere.  Could you check?  I’d feel better if someone had eyes on it.” The courier blinks slowly, and kneels down. “It’s… yeah, it’s still there.” “Good,” Lister sighs relieved.  The courier crooks his elbow and rests against the top of the box, watching Lister. “Mate,” he says conspiratorially, “I think you may be drunk.” “Oh, I’m absolutely drunk,” Lister confirms.  He looks around the tight box and then down at his twisted body. “I am a little worried I may be stupid,” he admits.  “Uh… can you help me out of here?” — “I should call the cops, you know,” the courier says, sitting cross-legged on the ground, back up against the post box, as Lister sits beside him, massaging the feeling back into his legs.

“Technically, what you did is a crime,” he continues.  “Tampering with the mail and all that.” “I didn’t tamper with the mail,” Lister says, wincing at the pins-and-needles pricking painfully up and down his legs.  “I tampered with the box, yeah, I’ll give you that, but I didn’t touch the mail.” The courier takes a quick look back in the still open post box and eyes several crushed and crumpled parcels.  He sighs. “Look, what were you doing in there, eh?” He asks,  He looked Lister up and down. “Young bloke like you.  You get yourself in some trouble?” Lister snorts, pausing for a moment in his massaging.  He stares out at the street, at the strings of lights canopying the darkened alleyways and illuminating the writhing and undulating figures taking refuge in the shadow and sighs. “Long story,” he says quietly, rubbing feeling back into his feet.  “Short answer’s yes.” He sighs and pulls his knees to his chest, stomps his feet on the pavement, willing sensation back into them. “Stranded out here,” he says.  “Home’s back on Earth. Liverpool.  Promised myself I’d find my way back, find out what happened to my mates.” “Your mates?”  “Yeah, my friends.  Drinking buddies,” he explains.  “Went out for my birthday, got bsolutely wasted. I wound up here, but I was alone.  No idea where anyone else ended up.  Could all be back home in Liverpool wondering where the smeg I am.” He shrugs.  “Could be scattered all around the bloody solar system, wondering where each other is.  Gotta find out, you know?” “That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself,” the courier says.  Lister shrugs. “Yeah, well, also promised them, didn’t I?  We all swore to help each other out of any scrapes we got into.” “Yeah?  You think they’re tying themselves in literal knots, like you, trying to find each other?” He shrugs. “Only promise I can keep is my own,” he says.  He grabs the post box and starts to pull himself up.  His ankles almost buckle, but he catches himself nd pulls himself to his feet.  He stomps his feet against the pavement.  He smiles at the courier in triumph, before it fades to something more like a grimace.  “So, you gonna call the cops, or…?” The courier is already on his knees, loading mail into his satchel.  He shakes his head, flattening out a letter with his hand.” “Nah,” he says.  “Place is a cesspool.  It’s a good night when no one’s pissed in one of these things.”  He looks up at Lister. "Might as well just take off, “ he says.  “Stay safe.” Lister laughs.  “Not my strong suit.” “Aye, well,” he sighs.  “Stay alive, then.” “Yeah, man,” he says, walking away, hands deep in his pockets.  “Always do.”      

[9w1ft]

i'm so worried for karlie like why is she sitting in the general admissions?? i seriously hope the swifties there remain civil and don't try to hurt her or anything 😭

i’m 95% sure she was club level. i had seats in C248 (not sure if we will learn where she sat)… and that area was much more chill. you have to show your ticket to get access to the floor and there are different elevators to use from regular seating.. a lot of the celebrities we saw this week sat in club and i think it has the infrastructures needed for them to do so easily.

given where we are now, i don’t think VIP would have worked. for one. that’s too close to and open to people who could run to her and then run away after doing whatever they wanted, if you know what i mean. there’s more social pressure to behave in a place like where she sat.

honestly i think it was the best solution! i’m very happy with this. i heard that she left a little early and i think that is good, too. all and all, it’s the perfect amount of loud!

also, it’s important to remember that this is a marathon and tonight is not the end. they’ve got to inch their way back to one another as the re-records progress and part of that is doing things that are both loud and also able to be written off by the hostile people. let’s enjoy things one day at a time 😊

[whoisthis234]

guide to jjk events when visiting japan!

a hopefully helpful post for when you are vacationing at japan and want to experience anything jjk-related!

all jjk events and pop-ups can be found on collabo cafe, here

For events like the jjk exhibition (the next one is from 4/19/2025 to 6/8/2025 in osaka i think), reserve your ticket as soon as possible as the days and time slots usually sell out quick! The exhibition uses the website “eplus,” which makes it hard for foreigners to reserve a ticket because you need a japanese name and address. Those might be easier to bypass as you can use a translation of your name and your hotel address, but the hardest part is needing a japanese phone number to verify your account via sms.

If you need a japanese phone number, I suggest calling the inquiry number on jujutsuten.com, the exhibition website. The help line might only take japanese inquiries, so if your call doesn’t work or you cannot call via an international number, try asking your hotel to make that call for you!

For pop-ups (i.e. collaborations with malls like loft), there usually isn’t a reservation required and it is first-come-first-served. However, the later you go to a pop-up from its start date, the more likely it is that specific goods are sold out. For example, sanrio x jjk merch was out of stock when compared to other goods in the last week of a pop-up. The location and time-span of a pop-up can be found on collabo! The benefit to going to a pop-up is getting limited edition goods, and if you spend a certain amount, there are freebies with your order.

For the weekly shonen jump (relevant for jjk until the end of september), weekly copies are typically sold in any konbini — 7-11, Lawson, or FamilyMart — starting Mondays at 5am local time. Leaks happen around the Thursday before at 12pm local time (i’m not even sure where leakers get their early copy 😭) and the new chapter is mass-released on Monday. WSJ is a thick book with several chapters from several mangas! it costs around 300 yen ($2.10 usd) for a copy. The WSJ also contains new exciting news, such as how jjk is ending soon. If you want to have a keepsake for the last few chapters before official volumes are released, the WSJ is a cheap option. Copies from the week before or older might not be sold in konbinis, so going to a bookstore like “animate” might help you get an archived copy.

Best places to shop for jjk merch, based on personal opinion. Your best choice is to go to Akihabara in Tokyo, which is basically anime-central.

Akihabara Radiokaikan- huge multiple-story building with floors for figurines, collectibles, and goods. I suggest K-Books on the 4th (?) floor for limited edition merch, as they re-sell goods from events like the jjk exhibition and jujufest. Just as a note, the characters do carry different price tags 😭. Gojo costs almost 3 times the amount of any other character.

Animate (any location in any city)- multiple-story building that sells mangas and goods. Lots of jjk blind-box merch. Animate separates its store by anime, so there should be a jjk section specifically. Manga is cheap and accessible; each volume costs around 480 yen and can be found in local bookstores as well. For reference, a translated copy of jjk costs around $10 usd and the raw japanese copy is $3.36 usd. Downside: if you can’t read japanese, the book is still pretty to just look at!

Other notable stores- Suruga-ya and amiami in akihabara. Figurines are cheaper in Japan!

Save your 100 yen coins for gacha machines!

All your jjk merch can be tax-free in certain stores, if you spend above 5000 yen! Tax-free will deduct that extra 10% from your price and make it cheaper! Only thing is, you’ll have to wait until after you leave Japan to open and use the goods. Bring your passport to stores 🫡

Hope this helps if you plan on going to Japan, and feel free to ask any questions! ❤️

[scorchedthesnake]

May 15, 2012

It’s hard to describe the frenzy we experienced from April to June of 2012. It seemed like shortly after Remixed there was an unceasing parade of events at the McKittrick and it was truly the center of the universe. The show was the talk of the town, and at the time, regulars and fans enjoyed a level of access and proximity to the show that simply doesn’t exist anymore. We were very much a part of the family and no one in that family really knew how to process being at the center of a cultural phenomenon, so we were all along for the ride and there were astonishingly few boundaries. 

Mayfair was coming and the promise of a heathen bacchanal (“Come Let Me Clutch Thee”) had everyone in a tizzy. In the lead up, there was also a steady trickle of promotional events and brand partnerships. Bowmore Spirits was hosting a whisky party at the Hotel, and was offering a chance at free tickets in exchange for retweets. Team Hard RT aggressively participated, and when the drawing came, the tickets went to a dummy account the brand clearly owned. We called them out on it. Then came the DMs saying if any of us could make it to the Hotel in time, the tickets were ours. Alas, they went unclaimed.

In the meantime, I was suddenly under an NDA.

The reason for this was that I had been invited to test the MIT Media Lab extension to the show, and while I was told I would be allowed to write about it on Scorched, they had offered the story as an exclusive to the New York Times, so I had to wait for that to go out before I could say anything (the post eventually went up here, and was sparse on specifics because for all we knew, this was going to end up live in the show someday soon).

I arrived as normal at the Hotel - and proceeded to Manderley, where this little bit that I wrote in a teaser actually happened:  

Amidst the tables and chairs, Calloway stands alone, basked in a spotlight. He appears to be singing to himself softly, slowly turning his hands around, as though weaving his quiet song (in that is-he-touched-in-the-head way that Calloway has). He looks at me and beckons me toward him. I approach, and he bends down to kiss me on the cheek. When he rises, I look up at him, as he towers over me, and I can see that he’s been crying. My face turns sad. I reach up my hand and cradle his face, wiping away a tear with a sweep of my thumb. He exhales, deliberately, and stares back at me with a look of grief and loss. I know that somewhere, something dreadful has happened.

Then I was taken in to meet Felix Barrett and Peter Higgin, who fitted me with the enhanced mask. It had antennae sticking out of it and was extremely heavy and uncomfortable – a discomfort that only grew as the night went on. But they didn’t tell me much else and I was brought up to the fifth floor, where the autopsy room had been closed off from the regular show. Inside, I found Alba Albanese, who introduced me to the story of Grace Naismith’s disappearance - and to a ouija board. The board started to move: “G…. E…. T…. O…. U….T…,” and I heard a scraping at the door. I fled out into the corridor.

Regular attendees had noticed strange things were happening. There were signs posted around the show with Grace’s photo, and there were markers to show points of interest (like signs for quest interaction in an MMO). But the very first thing I noticed was that the padded cell was closed off - and occupied. This has long been my favorite unused room in the hotel so I was thrilled. Inside was Ben Thys. The stewards sighted my tech mask and admitted me to the room.

From the 2nd teaser:

We are standing together in the center of the room. He looks deep into my eyes, smiles, and then… he smells me. He draws his face close to mine and moves, slowly and cautiously, in a circle around my face, sniffing at it, clearly seeking some trademark scent. Then he stops sniffing. He smiles, and pulls me close again. This time he drops his head back and opens his mouth wide, as though to allow me a chance to inspect his teeth. I look and find nothing out of the ordinary. When he finally raises his head again and closes his mouth, his grin has changed into a look of grief. “You.” There is a long, painful silence. “You never came."  It is as though the very life drains out of his face. And with that, he drifts back to where I found him when I entered, slumped in the corner, and buries his face in his hands.

Bewildered, I set out to figure out what was going on. The 4th Floor had various clues - Grace had loved a man named George. I found another previously inaccessible space at the end of the hall to the Rep Bar - the Law Office. Inside was a typewriter (another portal device) that wrote out a message: “SUITCASE” - and there was indeed a suitcase in the room. I took the suitcase and went exploring – I think I may have been under the impression the Porter would help me. I recall making it as far as the lobby when a Steward approached and reclaimed the suitcase, noting to me that I wasn’t supposed to be carrying the props. Oops. Somewhere - and honestly 12 years later I don’t recall where - I found a note detailing Grace’s contract with Hecate, and how she was supposed to make George fall in love with Grace.

From the 3rd teaser: 

When I finally return to him I am sweating and shaking.  I have been running and searching for nearly an hour, with hardly anything to show for it. But I know that he must have the answer, if only somehow I can get it out of him. By now it’s become a ritual, how he greets me. He holds my shoulders and pushes me against each of the walls, laughing, smiling like a young child. Then he smells me and his proximity makes me anxious. He can be gentle one moment and ferocious the next. I hope that maybe this is how he shows me his trust. And then we sit down and I show him what I’ve brought. He looks at the paper then up at me. I point at him intently. “Yes,” he says, “that’s me. I’m George.” My heart skips a beat. Now I feel like I’m getting somewhere. “…I do not know why I’m in here.”

Poor Ben. He told me later he was ad libbing all of it, they hadn’t really anticipated that I’d keep going back to him with pretty much any prop I found trying to get him to explain any of it. I obviously went to Hecate (Careena), who presented me with a vial of salt, but I wasn’t getting it yet. I wandered the 5th floor, hearing voices through my mask in the bathroom hall. I found the closet in the forest maze, and groped for a light switch - in the process, pulling the microphone off the wall. Oops again.

I was feeling fairly exasperated as I’d figured out who was who, but it wasn’t clear if I was supposed to try to find Grace or what. Also, the mask was absolute murder so I went back to Manderley to see Pete and see if he could adjust it. I told him what I’d seen, showed him the vial of salt, and he said, “I don’t know what that’s about, that’s Careena doing her own thing I guess.” It was chaos and I kind of loved every second of it. Matt Downs, my dear friend who I had only really met shortly before all of this, watched all of the mask drama unfolding with keen interest, knowing full well something insane was happening.

I had sort of run out of ideas and the third loop was well underway, so Pete said they’d try to get me up to 4 to see the big showpiece that had been set up to conclude the experience. To do this, it needed to be made plain to Careena to depart from her regular Hecate track. So Calloway was asked to escort me from Manderley up to the Rep Bar. It was a crowded night at the show, and William patiently but urgently pushed me through the crowd, taking me to the front so Careena would see me and understand. Then he took me to Agnes’ apartment and I waited.

Eventually - the show was very near its end at this point - Hecate emerged from the bedroom. I don’t remember any of the text, but this led to the reveal of the salt hands, the evidence of Grace’s fate. This 1:1 is depicted in the photo the New York Times ran with their coverage.

After all of this, we all gathered in the ballroom for a debrief. Only one other test participant had remained. They had brought me, a frequent visitor; this other fellow, who had been once before; and a walk-in who had no idea what the show even was - and that person had bolted almost immediately. Over beers, we had a great conversation for the next hour or so with the graduate students who had been working on the project. I told them how envious I was – they were doing more interesting work with narrative than I ever had in my own literature Ph.D. program. I got to see the ballroom with all the lights up - gross, honestly, and far more colorful a space than I had ever realized. Afterwards, as we walked back up to a nearly empty Manderley, Felix Barrett asked if I could answer something for him. Sure, I said. “Why is your Tumblr avatar a picture of Gabe Forestieri?” Definitely not what I thought he might ask. “Well, have you seen him? He’s gorgeous.”

The teaser posts were the best I could do in the run-up to Mayfair. Questions poured in and utter silence would have added fuel to the fire. The trolls came out and attacked me for teasing a recap (which, truthfully, was a ridiculous thing to do). So it led to the creation of what I think is one of the most absurd examples of fan art in the long run of the show, the Recap Teaser Trailer:

For some backstory on this: we did it in just about 3 hours of effort. I wrote some of the gags at my office on 7th Ave before heading to my apartment to do the video editing. Kevin Cafferty asked his friend Liam to film his daughter eager for a recap. My sister in law sent a clip, Frances Koncan sent her clip. Jordan Morley asked to help and offered the clip in the original goat mask. Matt went to the McKittrick and asked random audience in line to play along. The result is... a real time capsule from a very different era of the fandom.

[section-69]

Okay Destination Trek notes! First here's what I really liked:

- Everything was SAG compliant and there was so much important strike talk. Obvs this made some questions impossible to answer, and it was slightly hard to predict what would be wrong to say just since different actors had different comfort levels (big range from "I support my comrades but I'm not gonna pretend I'm not in Star Trek" from David Ajala to J G Hertzler encouraging us to threaten media executives with [COPYRIGHTED SPACE WEAPON] to Terry Farrell not wanting to mention working on TV or film at all), but honestly it just made the whole thing really friendly

- on that note, multiple guests said it was the best convention they'd been to in years. I don't have a lot of personal experience with them, but I was talking to a lot of older fans and many of them said this felt a lot like the early days of conventions which were also set in hotels

- being in a hotel made it a) more accessible (and there were So Many fellow disabled Trekkies to prove it!!), b) easier to hang out between activities, and c) just super personable. The guests could hang out in the bar with the fans, there were lots of comfy seats everywhere, and it was very easy to step away if something wasn't your speed.

- not being in London helps the vibes too

- not being Paramount affiliated made the tickets a bit cheaper (much appreciated)

- most of the activities were teamwork focussed. Initially I was a little freaked by that but actually it gave the whole thing a friendly social club vibe

- science talks! Community talks! Asking the actors questions about their lives and work outside of what they're most famous for! Stories we haven't all heard a thousand times!

- I'll make another post about the specifics of accessibility and why I liked this infinitely more than the official ones in London aircraft hangars, but I just really have to stress how important I found that here

- being fan organised and fan led, the focus was on us and how much we love this shit. I didn't find the old format Bad in this respect, but this really did hit different

- J G Hertzler is seriously the coolest person I've met. He stole my craft group's batleth and we couldn't be happier about it.

- So Many Cool Cosplays!!! Shout out especially to the drag queens, the older man cosplaying Admiral Janeway, the Voyage Home Spock and inflatable whale, the power chair decked out to look like a shuttle, all the babies in uniform, the tribble queen in her tribble pelt dress, all the Klingons who didn't artificially darken their skin, the furry doctor from lower decks, all of the Borg, the Klingon pug with a plush batleth, and so so many others I'm forgetting ❤️🖖❤️

Notes for Future Cons

- If you don't already have access to it because of an expensive ticket, I wouldn't bother paying for the opening ceremony. It's not actually at the start of the event and also it's literally just the actors coming on stage, saying hi, then rushing back to the autograph tables. Do go to the closing ceremony though! There's way more of a point to those

- If you're not a huge extrovert, already drunk, or completely happy in awkward situations, I wouldn't recommend being the first in the door at the parties. Give it an hour or so - they sounded very lively later on, but when I tried to go in earlier the primary school disco vibes were off the charts. Plus the music's too loud to actually talk to anyone, and no one's dancing yet. I did see one guy run past with a portable charger for his friend in a wheelchair that lost power on the dance floor though, so clearly they got cooler later on lol. Addendum here that I'm an autistic non drinker so that might colour things.

- to the white folks darkening their skin for generic Klingon cosplays, reconsider that one next year

- to the white guy wearing brown face paint to cosplay Worf specifically, what the fuck, man??

- to the person who boo'd the mention of Julian/Garak at the LGBTQ+ panel, fight me but also maybe skip whatever the equivalent is next year cause Andy Robinson's booked to come

- host mocked Scottish accents a couple times :(

- here's hoping the unions will have their demands met and we'll be able to talk about Star Trek publicly with actors who can access healthcare and pay their rent. But if not, at least we know the con will still be fun.

- maybe see you in Blackpool next July 💙

[thevoidstaredback]

Today has been a day

Let's see if I can get this in order.

So, today was the event that the last two days have been Load-Ins for. It was a lot of fun. I came in fully prepared to be put in the sun, but I was put at the ADA/Credentialed elevators on the south end of the stadium. Before I was placed, though, me and Supervisor Bre and a coworker did a loop of Lot 1 (where I was the last two days) and then a loop of the road (blocked off for the event). It was a lot of walking.

It was pretty slow because it was a credential check. I was there at 7, but the gates didn't open until 10, so I wasn't really doing anything because all credentials were allowed past me.

We (me and two others from a different company) had our rush from 10:15 to about 13:30. We kept the elevators (two of them) as clear as we could for staff, ADA, and strollers/wagons, but some people simply refused to walk up the stairs.

There was a miscommunication with credentials, but we got it figured out. There was also a credential leak somewhere, still not sure where, but people were getting into the venue without having their tickets scanned. It was a whole thing.

About 16:00, they finally staffed the elevators so that me and S didn't have to worry about it. At 16:30ish, they turned the elevators to manual, taking away our ability to call them down. Which, I get it, because there were so many people trying to go everywhere, but the elevator staff ignored floor one for almost an hour. We had a lobby full of staff needing to get to the third floor, parents with strollers and wagons, handicap, and concessions all waiting for way too long. We sent as many as we could to the stairs, but it didn't go well. Eventually, S called her boss and basically said "This is unacceptable." then they came back to floor one and ran on a better pattern. Still shit, but better.

The lobby and elevators were all credentials, but there's a door in the back that leads to the lower concourse with direct stadium floor access. Only credentials C, B, A, AA, AA Escort, and staff were allowed back there. Unfortunately, the bathrooms are visible from the lobby. A lot of people were upset that we were making them use the portapotties, but there was one asshole in particular who called us dickheads for it every time we turned him away. His credential was D, so he wasn't allowed back there. Not our fault. He wants better credentials, he needs to take it up with the Tour.

My friend B was in that hallway, checking credentials as well because of the split credential access to the area. Last week, while she was working at the stadium (the one where they put me in the wind tunnel), she almost had to go to the hospital. Managers E and A had put her in the sun and didn't check on her once. Supervisor C was the one who found her and had to call EMTs because she had heatstroke. (The EMTs ripped E and A a new one. I told B she should sue. She won't)

Anyway, B's recovering from Heatstroke, so she's freezing. She asked Supervisor Bre if she could be someone warmer, but he said no. I gave her my hoodie to add to her four layers. One of the building staff turned on the heater for her. She finally warmed up about 14:00.

If you've ever been to or worked at an outdoor venue, then you've probably heard the term Weather Watch. Well, lighting decided to strike about 10 miles from the stadium, so we went on a WW. Then, it moved to 12 miles out before coming back to 8 miles out, making them stall the race by 15 minutes. When it was 6 miles out, they started to evacuate (evac) the building. Everyone was packed on the main concourse like fucking sardines. Then, some idiots decided to hide under a tarp and not get to safety, so I was called up to help. Well, I was going opposite everyone else, trying to get there, people couldn't/wouldn't get out of my way, and I had some guy yell at me for trying to get past. Then, the officers got there and took care of it, so I had to turn around. But, I hate being in large groups of people, especially when they're packed together like that, so I hid in the Guest Services Office until it cleared enough that I could walk around without touching anyone. I may have had a small panic attack, but that's between me and GS. The storm didn't stay, so the race was back on.

The rest of the night was pretty slow, but me and S made friends with one of the concessions guys. We didn't get any, but we were freaking out when he had to take a tower of Cups of Dirt to the VIP room. (Crushed Oreos, pudding of choice, gummy worms mixed together in a cup). We scared the people in the lobby. It was funny.

Also, Monster treats their employees well. I got so much free caffeine today! Also, one of the Big Wigs™ for Monster gave us some drinks himself. He's cool. I liked his jacket and hat. He's also funny.

We had 3 medical emergencies, only one of which had to go to the hospital; 6 missing children, five of which were reported just after the evac, all were found; 1 lightning delay; 1 evac.

Because parking is shit and neither of us were going to ride the train, me and B had to walk from the stadium to the hospital. About a mile. Both of us carry knives on us, especially if we know we're gonna be out at night, and we had B's mom on the phone the whole walk to her car at the hospital parking lot.

B's mom said she had a bad feeling, so she drove to the hospital and waited in the parking lot for us, taking B's phone the whole time. When we got there, a white van started to follow us and we got catcalled. We were ready to stab a bitch, but B's mom (K) scared him off.

I think I covered everything....

I've worked 39 hours in 3 days with 10.5 hours of sleep the whole time. I'mma go to sleep now. Good night!

[b0amagination]

Tastes of Whumptober: Day 7

Everybody thank @brutal-nemesis for her cave knowledge and help today!

If you've been sitting here saying "wow boa, this stuff is great, but I really need a character based off the warlock class of DND struggling to serve their patron!" then you're really gonna like today's writing and you should buy a lottery ticket.

Content warning: Claustrophobia in the form of a very narrow cave. Take care of yourselves!

Magic with a Cost

The walls of the cave were definitely getting narrower now. Where there had once been enough room to stretch out his arms, his fingertips now brushed against the rough, stone walls on either side. 

The adventurer sent the shadows of these depths away, leaving an otherworldly light. Controlling the darkness was strange in that way. If he banished it, there could only be light in its absence.

He unfurled the parchment on which a very drunk bar customer had scribbled the map of this cave system. It occurred to him that he should’ve tried harder to persuade them, rather than simply buying drinks until he got what he wanted. But it wasn’t his fault his patron had been so stingy with their powers recently. 

Well. Not entirely his fault.

If he’d read the disjointed scribbles of ink correctly, this crevice would lead to a wider cavern housing the element his patron was after. 

Pushing forward the walls narrowed further, just as promised, until they were pushing against his sides. They were moist, wetting his cloak just enough to feel the clammy chill this far underground, but the grainy texture still chafed against bare arms. He wrapped his cloak around himself, sliding further into the crevice, finally able to spot an opening just ahead.

His shoulders were too wide after a while and he sidled ahead instead, but then even the cloak was too thick to pass through. Reluctantly, he unclasped it and regretted his sleeveless style. Though usually functional in conflict to avoid overheating, his teeth were now chattering and his arms and shoulders were being scraped raw. 

With one final lunge, he emerged in a round cavern. It still felt remarkably like a hallway, longer than it was wide, but he could finally breathe again. He summoned a fire for light this time, remembering his instructions.

Call me when you arrive. I don’t need you messing about with what’s rightfully mine.

He hadn’t quite understood the explanation of why his patron couldn’t travel here themself. The pitch dark of a cave was, naturally, suited to them. But they’d chastised him with explanations about natural light sources, potency of shadows, and how his humanity allowed him to ignore such discrepancies. 

But fire, as a sister to the sun, was a suitable replacement for her. 

Flames danced along the walls revealing what he hadn’t paid attention to before: sloped floors dipping down to a pool in the middle of the room. It couldn’t have been more than a meter deep, and the water was clear all the way to the bottom.

And then he was pulled away from it by a familiar dizziness as his own shadow lurched and twisted. Of course, rather than possessing one of the many eligible shadows around him, his patron had to make their entrance unsettling. His consciousness blurred at the edges until they’d adjusted their physical form to their liking, towering over him with a grin.

“Ahhhhh… and here I was thinking you’d never call me, baby!” They stretched dramatically, hissing sounds and tendrils of smoke imitating the cracking of joints.

“I would never call you that. And you’d be much grumpier if you just made the journey I did.” He was having trouble hiding the goosebumps and smeared blood on his arms.

“You are my spiritual sugar baby if we’re being technical. You’d call me that if it meant I restored your full access to my power.” Their patron laughed, knowing he had no good response to that.

“Well, get going with your thing then. I’d like to stop begging for every miniscule bit of help.”

“Yes, about that. Where the hells have you brought me?” 

“Where ol’ drunkie told me the Treasure of Elmstern Cave is,” he enunciated sarcastically.

“I told you what to do if you wanted my powers of persuasion.”

“And I wasn’t going to give a sermon on a demonic entity to the whole bar, including the guy I needed details from.” 

When his patron touched him in this plane of reality, it was delayed. Their touches were firm and cold, but disconnected from their body. The movement simply happened faster than this realm could process. 

All that to say: when they slapped him, he couldn’t see it coming. A chilly wind preceded harsh contact, only after which did he see the followthrough of their hand before tumbling to the ground. 

“I am not demonic.”

“Yeah? You’re definitely acting like it!” He pushed himself back up, only to find his patron’s manifestation standing directly against him. “I know you’re not a demon, but those without pacts aren’t very understanding.”

“That doesn’t excuse you speaking in such a way.”

“Then just take your fucking treasure and leave me be!” He pushed them back, tired of the cheap intimidation tactics.

“Oh, I would have.” Their tone dropped.

That made their beneficiary freeze.

“And why not?”

“It’s not here.” A flinch.

“But they said-”

“I don’t care what story the town gossip spun for you,” they interrupted, their voice booming and echoing off the walls. “I’ve warned you. Continuous failures prove to me that the essence of your soul may be much more useful than your precious little mortal existence.”

“I-I-” They stalked forward, forcing him to wade into the pool. “I didn’t anticipate the difficulty of your tasks. I’m not useless just because I’m not some… some hotshot who’s been doing nothing since the birth of the universe.” Frustration bit into his words. If they wanted to play rough, he’d do the same.

“Be careful what you say, human.” 

He was choking, and then a hand wrapped around his throat to add the pressure that cut off his words. They were standing in the middle of the pool now, and adrenaline couldn’t stop him tensing up from the freezing cold. 

“Prove to me that your pathetic life is worthy of preservation.”

Their hand plunged him into darkness. 

The water was all encompassing, seeping into each crevice of his being. The grip of his patron loosened and his body breathed before he could stop it, forcing liquid down his throat and up his nose. His feet had left the shallow floor at some point during the struggle, and he couldn’t orient himself. Desperate hands clawed at rocks and his movements kicked up silt, making his eyes absolutely useless. 

Somehow, his grip found purchase and his head met air, desperately coughing up water so he could breathe it in again. How much had he swallowed? He didn’t even remember doing so. 

Tears came next: relief, horror, exhaustion, all of it wracking his body as if he had energy to be wasting on this.

Then the water rippled behind him and a hand found his shoulder.

“Oh, you think you’re done already. How cute.”

[droughtofapathy]

"Welcome to the Theatre": Diary of a Broadway Baby

The Dead, 1904

November 26, 2024 | Off-Broadway | Irish Repertory Theatre | Evening | Play | Adaptation | 2H

This is one of those rare immersive theatrical experiences that does it to perfection. Four dozen audience members mix and mingle with the cast as we all attend Aunt Julia and Aunt Kate's Christmas dinner. There's singing, there's dancing, there's a little politics for good measure. The story itself is a simple one, and I'm not sure I'd be that enthralled were this a traditional play. But being able to live in this world is an experience I'll never forget. Being disabled, I had my doubts about the accessibility, but there were a number of chairs available for those who needed them, and a single-person elevator right out of the history books. Guest were ushered up to the second floor and greeted by a few of the party goers and the aunts. To be so close and personal with Mary Beth Peil and to shake her hand and thank her for inviting us...oh what a joy. And on opening night.

Then, with the party and the play underway, we were in this story. The sisters were just divine. Una Clancey made a brilliant Kate, the bolder and biting sister, to play off Mary Beth's sweet and wandering Julia. She was a replacement for Estelle Parsons and I loved her portrayal, but can you imagine the thrill of seeing Estelle Parsons in such an intimate evening? That woman is 97 and still kicking.

During the evening, Julia (a former soprano) entertains guests and it feels like a blessing. To watch Mary Beth act as she sings, and to see the moment Julia loses herself and the shade starts to descend is nothing short of heartbreaking. And I am once more proclaiming my love for Kate Baldwin. She too sings, and it makes the soul transcend. Oh, to be wealthy enough to afford the big tickets and sit with the family at the center table...

The supporting cast is colorful and entertaining. Getting to see two quadrille sets, one with Kate Baldwin in the traditionally male lead with a petite older woman was such fun. I did not buy the $400 (or $1k) dinner ticket because well, I make $51.5K a year and have to eat. But the show-only ticket was more than sufficient, no matter how good that pudding smelled. I do think I'd love to do the dinner experience if I ever come into some money. But even the show-only ticket was a bit of a stretch.

I also think the adaptive script is perhaps less impressive than the original story, given its reputation. Much of the internal conflict doesn't come until the final scene. Under normal circumstances, I have no doubt it's a powerful one. Unfortunately, midway through the last scene in the bedroom where Kate Baldwin breaks down and reveals a childhood romance that ended in tragedy, one of the older audience members collapsed. She was sitting just behind me in one of the few chairs and just slumped over. In the end, I think she was fine, but I saw her lying there against the sofa beside me, and she looked dead. The actor playing Gabriel handed it so well. He immediately broke scene and went to her, and the crew got her some water and sat her down on a sofa. She was able to talk, but seemed really out-of-it. The scene picked up again, but I'm not really sure I took it in. Until that moment, it was a wonderful night.

Verdict: You Can Pry This Show Out of My Cold Dead Hands

A Note on Ratings

[qnewsau]

“All-inclusive” has become pinkwashing for disabilities

New Post has been published on https://qnews.com.au/all-inclusive-has-become-pinkwashing-for-disabilities/

“All-inclusive” has become pinkwashing for disabilities

Grant Maynard shares his challenges with access and inclusion, and why “all-inclusive” has become pinkwashing for disabilities.

With my favourite cafe closed for renovations, I strolled down Victoria Street looking for an accessible café.

I went past dozens before finding one I could easily enter.

While finding accessible venues is always a challenge, finding accessibility information shouldn’t be.

In the first week of December, the world floods social media with messages about the importance of accessibility and inclusion.

The 3rd of December is International Day of People with Disability.

That week, I can rock up to any advertised event confidently, knowing it will be accessible and affordable.

Start times, access information, wheelchair accessibility and bathroom availability will be clearly outlined, along with potential breakout/quiet spaces.

Then, like magic, the conversations and accessibility stop.

It’s basically pinkwashing for people with disabilities.

A tokenistic gesture that ultimately doesn’t translate into long-term positive outcomes.

So why just one day when access needs affect people throughout the year?

Inclusion doesn’t include people with disabilities

Inclusion continues to grow and improve, but one phrase is becoming more noticeable, as events are promoted as ‘inclusive’ or ‘all-welcome’.

It certainly serves to encourage diversity.

Unfortunately, far too often, inclusion doesn’t include people with disabilities.

Understandably this is a challenge, especially due to the lack of truly accessible queer venues in Melbourne.

But well-intentioned, inclusive statements ultimately fall short.

When a local venue started renovations, I asked online about the potential of improved access.

The owners explained their situation and the prohibitive costs associated.

Others online felt improving accessibility was a major cost for a minor community that wouldn’t be financially beneficial.

While they’re right about the exorbitant costs, they’re completely wrong about the benefits.

Approximately 1 in 5 Australians live with a disability, that’s about 21.4% of the population.

Delving deeper, those details become more complex with Deakin reporting that 22.7% of our communities report they have a disability or long-term health condition.

Combine this with 52.3% of people over the age of 65 having a disability, inaccessible venues and events exclude a large number of our diverse community.

Accessibility makes business sense.

I’ve been invited to plenty of events stating ‘absolutely everyone is welcome’ yet the location is inaccessible, or worse, aspects of access and inclusion aren’t even mentioned.

We’re left to either book and turn up to an inaccessible location or pay for a ticket only to find the ground floor is the only accessible space, or that the bathroom isn’t accessible.

Events even reinforce that sexism, racism, ageism, homophobia, and transphobia are not accepted, but disability is sadly missing.

There’s no simple fix.

There is however a range of things businesses and event organisers can do to improve accessibility.

The door for inclusion can be opened by having honest and effective communication.

Have you considered various access needs?

Could your event rotate venues throughout the year?

What about varied ticket prices?

Meeting these needs is easier than you think.

Wheelchairs and accessibility are often the first thing that comes to mind, but access needs are different across the board for a wide range of people.

Seating and tables can improve access for those with chronic pain and other neuromuscular disability.

AUSLAN interpreters allow for more engaging events, and quiet spaces help with communication and anxiety.

And finally, clear timetables and schedules allow people with limited energy or capacity to engage in their favourite moments.

Ultimately lots of small actions make a big difference across the year, simply by reviewing what you can and communicating clearly.

With small actions and considerations made, events will begin to be truly inclusive for our fantastically diverse community every day.

For the latest LGBTIQA+ Sister Girl and Brother Boy news, entertainment, community stories in Australia, visit qnews.com.au. Check out our latest magazines or find us on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and YouTube.

[nickgerlich]

Turn The Page

I have always been a book worm. My parents instilled the value of reading at a very early age, aiding and abetting my youthful passion with frequent visits to the library, as well as occasional trips to bookstores to purchase items for what I now know was my own personal library. I am thankful, because their diligence paid off.

Throughout university, I hoarded books, even textbooks. Heck, I even bought texts for classes I could not take because my schedule was full. I was just hungry for knowledge. As an adult and a newly minted Texan—if the kind natives of the Lone Star State will allow me to make such a claim after 35 years—I could get lost for hours in Barnes & Noble and Hastings. When on travel, I would seek out the small, independent booksellers, if only because those always featured local authors and hence local flavor.

That all changed when Amazon launched in 1995. Their initial focus was only books, and their aggressive pricing strategy allowed it to make quick inroads. Whereas I loved the “library” feel of a B&N, with those dark, hard wood shelves, coffee bar, stuffed chairs that invited you to stay awhile, and the implicit message that you should be whispering, it was just too easy to shop from home. You know the drill.

Through the years, Hastings lost its battle and is now just a fading memory here in Amarillo and wherever else they had shops. Amazon introduced the Kindle in 2007, an attempt to get us to switch from tangible books to e-books. Rivals like Borders also folded, and B&N found itself hanging on for dear life. It closed many stores, launched its own ill-fated e-book reader, and prayed hard.

Today, B&N is staging a bit of a comeback. It is leaner, meaner, and more focused this time around. Actually, with a lot of its brick-and-mortar competition now out of the way, they have the space pretty much to themselves. And James Daunt, the CEO who took over in 2018, is making moves by opening five dozen new stores, and allowing each location to curate its own collection of books. In other words, they are free to reflect local interests, feature local authors, and enjoy a high degree of semi-autonomy. Why, they are becoming the independent mom-and-pop bookseller they too initially set out to destroy.

With an estimated one billion book sales each year (and about 90% being tangible), there is a lot at stake here. Book sales exceed movie ticket sales. Both are forms of entertainment, albeit very different. Movies, in spite of a lot of ticket price increases, are still cheaper than books, for which now a $30 price point is common for a new cloth-bound release, and yet we opt more for the latter.

But something funny happened as the digital era unfolded. Whereas we gladly (and quickly) changed our consuming ways of news, music, and movies, we never let go of our books. Online newspapers and streaming music and movies became the new normal. There’s something about reading a tangible book, though, manually turning the pages, smelling ink on paper, that just cannot be replicated on a tablet device. The page flip on a Kindle is a weak metaphor of the real experience. Oh, and nothing beats falling asleep on the sofa whilst reading, and awakening to your book and glasses on the floor. Priceless, I tell you.

Oddly, my university has fallen in love with e-books as our texts, and has new agreements with Cengage and McGraw-Hill to provide free access for any of their titles, as approved by the professor. I know. I do it for Consumer Behavior. This was a hard decision for a guy who has never sold any of his texts, and still has everything dating back to the late-70s.

Most students, though, don’t share that same nerdiness that I have, and I don’t know that I have ever met one yet who held on to a book just in case—you know—future reference might be needed.

I am thrilled that B&N has emerged as a survivor against the e-commerce giant that Amazon is. It does not mean that there are cracks in Amazon’s armor, or that e-commerce as a modality is teetering. No, it just means that both consumers and a big corporate chain have figured out that there is still some joy to be found in Mudville. Call it old school, new school, or just back to school, buying books at B&N is becoming the new black.

And with winter rapidly arriving, I can’t wait to hunker down at the Amarillo B&N for a few hours. They know that the longer a person stays, the more they will buy. Keep the coffee hot, I’ll be right there, credit card in hand. We have some catching up to do.

Dr “Buy The Book” Gerlich

Audio Blog