#at least if books could kill just released a two hour episode

[ripeteeth]

I woke up with pain radiating up my arm from my fucked up hand, cramps, AND a migraine. So I've got that going for me, which is nice.

[typingcorgi]

unexpected (part ii of a three-part series)

gif by @joelmjller

read part i here

rating: e (minors, please shoo. you will be blocked) word count: 4k pairing: joel miller x f!reader warnings: teacher!reader, pre-outbreak timeline, canon divergent timeline, hint of vague age difference (if he's 36 I'm thinking like the reader is 5-10 years younger but honestly insert whatever age you want), fingering, creampie, oral sex (f receiving), protected p in v sex (yay for responsible joel), praise kink makes brain go brrr, porn with plot, soft-ish!joel, no use of y/n story summary: a one-night stand with a handsome stranger doesn't go as planned. chapter summary: you invite joel to your place. you both know why he's there. author's notes: this is actually going to be a three-parter, not a two-parter, lol. sorry. thanks to my lovely friend @magpie-to-the-morning for your support in developing this chapter! no apocalypse, yay! this is part one of a multi-part series. excited to get this new ball rolling. this is just going to be a fun romp away from the mushroom zombies, okay? have fun getting yours ;) and as always, please feel free to reblog or leave a comment! your feedback is so very appreciated.

There is nothing quite like a Friday night attached to a three-day weekend. With Columbus Day right around the corner, you have the next seventy-two hours to do quite literally, whatever the fuck you want. For the first time in weeks, school is the last thing on your mind.

And apparently, you’re the last thing on Joel’s mind. You gave him your number a week ago, and even though you know three days is the average length of time before your date gets in touch with you again—can you even call your debauched bathroom rendez-vous a date?—not getting so much as a message on your voicemail has you a little freaked out.

Okay, a lot freaked out.

You’d written your number down on a napkin. He could have lost said napkin in the middle of Austin’s city streets, and now, a total stranger has your information. Just fucking great.

You kick off your shoes as you pull yourself out of your fabricated daydream—more like a nightmare. As you move through your apartment, you don’t waste a goddamn minute. You unclasp your bra beneath your shirt, pulling the straps from your shoulders and sliding them down your arms before tossing the garment into the hamper.

Maybe it’s better Joel hasn’t called. You can totally picture yourself just holing up in your apartment for the next three days and calling in delivery every night after running downtown to the nearest Blockbuster and renting a couple of cheesy romantic comedies. The guy behind the counter knows you’ve rented How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days at least three times since it’d been released on DVD, and that fact is only mildly embarrassing.

Still, your job forces you to be a creature of habit. Days like last Friday night, hooking up in public restrooms—that’s not your norm. Your feet are killing you. Sometimes you just need a weekend that demands very little of your attention or energy outside of the four walls of your bedroom.

By 9:30, you’re in your pajamas with a glass of red on your bedside table. The TV is playing a rerun of some new reality dating show—you think it’s called The Bachelor, but honestly, you tuned in during the middle of the episode, so you’re not sure. Your bed is your fucking safe haven. There are stacks of students’ essays in your tote bag abandoned on a kitchen chair, but you know damn well you took them home to only pretend to grade them. 

You’re good and settled in your bed before the tune of your cellphone ringtone chimes from the living room. You nearly trip over your own feet scrambling out of bed to race to it (but no, you’re not even the slightest bit desperate, here), and the caller ID reflects a number not registered in your address book.

It sends a little shock of anxiousness through you, a flash of adrenaline as your stomach drops, but you hit the pick-up button, taking the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” a low voice rumbles from the other end of the phone, and immediately, you know who it is.

Holy shit. He actually called.

“Wow,” you breathe, your tone somewhere between vulnerability and flirtatiousness. “And here I thought you totally forgot about me.”

Joel chuckles on the other end of the line. “No, nothing like that. Just been workin’ like a dog all damn week. Either that or I’ve been taking care of my kid. Or she’s been taking care of me. Sometimes I don’t know the dif—”

He cuts himself off with a laugh, and you giggle softly into the receiver, because was Joel this charming when you met him last weekend?

“I just mean, I finally got a moment to myself is all,” Joel finishes. “Figured I’d get in touch.”

“I’m glad you did,” you confess, sinking into the comfortable cushions of your loveseat. You kick your legs across the arm of it, suddenly feeling like a freshman girl talking to her senior crush before the big homecoming game. Even though you’ve barely started conversing, your heart is absolutely racing, anticipating the questions he might ask you, the plans you might make. It’s entirely too late for a dinner date, and you’re not sure Joel would even want a commitment as serious as sharing a meal with you, but there’s a small part of your naivete that remains hopeful. If Joel had been looking for a one-night stand, why had he asked you for your number?

“Yeah, well, I’ve bored you with enough details of my week,” he says, and it’s as though you can hear the smile in his voice. “How’d yours go?”

“Good,” you say, trying to think of more interesting ways to elaborate on your one-note response. “I mean, as good as teaching high school students on a Friday before a long weekend could possibly go. They either have too much energy or not enough.”

Joel laughs at that. “That’s right. Supermodel moonlighting as a teacher. I get it.”

“You’re cute,” you laugh.

“So’re you.”

You blush. You fucking blush. Joel might have admitted to being out of the dating scene for a while, and even if his comments are simple and somewhat predictable, he’s got some serious charm.

At some point in the conversation, Joel confesses he’s alone for the evening. His daughter is at a sleepover—she’s a good kid, so if she wants to stay at a friend’s house on a Friday night here and there, I’m not one to protest—and you’re alone with nothing but your mostly-empty wine glass and your Nokia 3310, beeping intermittently to signal that your battery is going to die.

There’s a pause in the conversation as you internally debate your next move: continue to engage in slightly awkward small talk, as though he hadn’t completely rocked your world seven days earlier, or the option you’re leaning towards: invite him over. Hadn’t Joel been angling for this exchange to end up that way, anyway? His daughter isn’t home tonight, so there’s no reason for him to be home himself.

“You should come over,” you offer, suddenly sounding a hell of a lot less cool than you had moments earlier when you’d flirted.

The fluster is contagious. Even if this is secretly what both of you had hoped for, what both of you sort of expected, Joel is just as nervous as you. “Y—yeah,” he stammers, and it sounds like he needs to fight to find the word in the back of his throat. “Definitely. Uh, what’s your address?”

Joel knows where you live. Well, he knows the area. He says he used to pass your street every morning when he’d drop off his daughter off at school, back when she was in third or fourth grade. The notion of him waving goodbye to an eight-year-old and telling her he loves her and hopes she has a great day at school makes your heart absolutely squeeze. A part of you wants to forgo your in-person booty call for a round of phone sex because you’re fucking wet from that vision alone, but instead, you tell him you’ll see him soon and end the call.

You take a deep breath and let it sink in. Joel is coming over to your apartment tonight. There’s a half-full glass of pinot noir on your bedside table, a mess of dishes in the sink, not to mention, you look like a total mess. Your pajamas are more functional than they are sexy, your hair is falling every which way, and your eyes are probably tired. It’s been a long week, and there are some things that even the promise of great sex can’t immediately resolve—like your current energy levels.

Fuck it. You plug your phone into its charger and hurry toward the bathroom, readying yourself for your visitor.

Within fifteen minutes, you’ve changed into a pair of jeans and a tank top (you don’t plan on wearing it long, anyway, but there’s something too comfortable about opening the door in fleece polka dot pants). Your hair is tamed and you’ve even applied a respectable amount of makeup; just enough to appear as though your job hasn’t completely zapped the life from you over the past week.

You’ve just finished tidying up when there’s a ring at your doorbell. You buzz Joel in, and you can hear his footsteps making their way up the flight of stairs from the ground floor to yours. Every step causes your heart to beat quicker, the anticipation to bubble beneath your skin, and you wonder if it’s the same for him, too.

He knocks at your door and you immediately smile when you see him.

“Hi,” you say.

“Hello, darlin’.”

You stand there for a moment, catching sight of all the little traits that’d caused you to draw to him in the first place. The crinkles around his eyes, tired and friendly, the bit of gray found in an otherwise patchy brown beard, the broadness of his shoulders beneath a worn denim shirt.

And the fucking pet name, god. Joel is so fucking smooth and he doesn’t even realize it. Or maybe he does and you’re a damn fool. Either way, it works, and you welcome him inside without another hesitation, closing the door behind him.

You offer him the only alternative to wine you have in your place—beer—and he accepts both the bottle and its opener. You try not to be mesmerized by the sight of his hands maneuvering over the bottle cap or the sight of his lips as he takes a swig, and when he tells you you’ve got a nice place here, you have to ask him to repeat it because you haven’t entirely heard what he’s said.

“Your place,” he repeats, one side of his lips curving into a slight smirk. “It’s nice. You know how to decorate.”

“Yeah,” you say, and it sounds like something caught between a laugh and a gasp. Joel is approaching you, placing the beer on your countertop while he corners you in, his hands placed on the edge of the counter on either side of your hips.

“You know, not that I wouldn’t enjoy talkin’ over a drink with you, but if that was all we were in for, I’d take you out somewhere,” he rumbles. You swallow nothing but air, your face growing hot as Joel’s gaze falls to meet your eyes, then your lips.

“Yeah,” you repeat as you nod.

“Yeah,” he echos with a chuckle. “Is that all you’re gonna say to me tonight?”

“No,” you say, and you feel like a bona fide idiot. Joel’s index finger curves beneath your chin, tilting your face up toward his.

“I’m gonna make you sing tonight, baby girl,” he murmurs, and then his lips are on yours.

You push your weight off the edge of the counter, winding your arms around Joel’s neck while his hands hold the flesh of your hips. The man is made out of electricity, suddenly shocking you to life and warming your blood. You part your lips while he kisses you, giving him permission to search your mouth as you lead him to your bedroom step for step.

The television is still on when you step into the room, only the faint golden light of your bedside lamp illuminating the space within the four walls. Joel pulls away to catch his breath and you rush to locate the remote.

“Should I be flattered you chose spendin’ time with me over watchin’ The Bachelor?” Joel teases as you turn off the TV.

“Shut up,” you laugh, and then you’re on him again. Your hands find the top button of his shirt, steadily unfastening each so that you’re free to push the garment down his shoulders and arms. It’s the first time you’ve seen him like this, exposed to you, chest rising and falling with each breath. It nearly knocks the air from your lungs. It’s not like it’s a new realization, of course, but…Joel is sort of gorgeous. He’s staring right back at you and you can tell he’s searching for some sort of quip or teasing remark, but nothing comes. Instead, he’s leveling the field when he reaches for the hem of your tank top, and you raise your arms to facilitate him.

Both shirts and your bra are abandoned on the floor of your bedroom. Joel lays you onto your bed and fucking worships your tits, tonguing one pert nipple while his hand roams and kneads the other breast. He’s gentle, maybe a little clumsy, but eager. Eager to taste you, to explore you, to map out the path of your form and learn what makes you gasp and moan.

And you do. You fucking do. You whine as your fingers take hold of the back of his head while he lingers on your breast, teeth grazing against the flesh of one before turning his attention toward the other.

“Singin’ for me already, huh?” Joel asks, voice deep. Your hands fumble with the buckle of his belt, unfastening the leather from around his hips before you unbutton his jeans. He doesn’t appear to be in any rush, though. Joel’s focus remains on your chest; his hands have a gentle hold on the side of your ribs and you arch your back as you whimper his name, furthering his access to your body.

“I need to—I need to feel you more,” you confess. “I want to—”

“So do I,” he interrupts you, as though he’s read your mind. Whatever it is you want, Joel wants it, too, even if he’s more willing to take his time, more willing to drag it out—a welcome change from the circumstances of last weekend.

His lips trail from the underside of your breast down your abdomen, lingering at the skin just above the button of your jeans. Joel’s gaze meets yours and you nod, hoping you don’t appear too desperate or frantic, though you’d be completely unsurprised if that’s how you look.

Nimble fingers unfasten the button and pull your jeans down and off your legs, the black thong you’d chosen earlier that night going with them. Joel ascends your body once more, but catches you off guard when he takes one of your pillows and slides it beneath your tailbone.

“Been thinkin’ about this all week,” he murmurs as his index and middle fingers collect the wetness at your center. The half-smirk he’d given you earlier returns and you lick your lower lip in anticipation, breath catching in the back of your throat. 

“From the looks of it,” Joel adds. “So have you.”

“Yeah,” you admit. “Yeah, I have.”

Your eyes roll back when Joel slides one digit inside of you to the knuckle. He curls his finger, finding the spot that’d driven you wild the last time you were together. Joel’s deep eyes are half-lidded, his expression one that exists between complete satisfaction and needing more. 

Needing more of you. To feel you writhe and wriggle beneath him, to taste you, to feel the hot clench of your cunt against his own body.

He kisses your mouth while slipping in a second finger, finding a rhythm with his hands to prime you, ready you for the rest of the evening. You groan, your eyes rolling back even further than before. 

“F—fuck, you feel good,” you breathe while he tongues the salt from your neck.

“You do too,” Joel hums in response. “But I wanna know how you taste.”

If Joel had been taking his time before, he wastes none of it now. He immediately seeks your clit, lips securing around it while he suckles and tastes you. He stays just like that for a while before his mouth finds the slick between your folds, and Joel pushes deeper, groaning at your flavor. 

Your hands claw into the bedsheets while he feasts on you. It feels as though Joel is the only damn thing that can bring you pleasure like this. Every tremble of your body beneath his mouth, every tense of the muscle in your thighs like you mean to crush his head between them—it’s entirely too much. You inhale sharply as Joel holds your thighs in his strong hands, pushing them apart to give himself unfettered access to your body. You can’t hide from him, and what’s more, Joel doesn’t want you to. He embraces you. He drinks you down.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he mutters against your skin, pulling back for only a moment to catch his breath. “Seein’ you like this. I wanna feel you, baby. I want you to come on my tongue.”

You can’t find any words to offer him in response. You just whine, one hand gripping his messy hair while you pull him toward your core, urging him to continue, to let you finish. And you do. Joel lets you with the last several strokes of his tongue, stroking your clit while his fingers curl and pulse inside of you.

You’re a mess. You’ve soaked you both, and when Joel rises from his spot between your legs, he catches your lips against his. They’re soft, glimmering with evidence of your desire, and you you taste your own flavor sitting on his tongue.

“Shit,” you pant against his mouth. You’re still catching your breath, letting the muted colors of the room before you fall into view as you come down from your peak. Joel chuckles to himself as he kisses the edge of your jaw.

“You liked that?” He asks, and you’d think he was being a wiseass if he hadn’t sound so genuine.

“Mhm,” you hum, kissing him again.

—

It’s sudden, the way the tables have turned.

You’ve got Joel on his back now. He’d only gotten up to fetch the condom from his jeans’ pocket, but once he rejoined you in bed, you’d pushed him down, thrilling in the tiny pleasure of getting him beneath you.

“So fuckin’ pretty,” he repeats, staring up at you as you straddle his hips. “Fuck, I got lucky tonight. In more ways than one.”

You swat his arm playfully, leaning forward to nibble at his earlobe while one hand seeks out his cock. You’d thought the comedown from immensely satisfying oral sex might satisfy your need for him, but you’d been so fucking wrong.

“I’m going to make you sing,” you whisper in his ear, soft and knowing. Joel groans in response while you sink onto his cock, gradually allowing yourself to fully take him inside of you.

“Fuck,” you hiss. “Fuck, you’re huge.”

“You can take it, baby,” Joel encourages you, his fingers pressed into your hips. “I know you can. I’ve seen you do it.”

You whine as your hips begin to rock, and Joel matches your movements. You’d demand that you’d do all the work right now but fuck, the way he hits your body just like that is not something you have the ability nor the desire to protest.

He fills you and suddenly the whole world makes sense. He fills you and you’re not sure how you managed to endure the last week without him. Every thrust of his hips, every moan that falls from his perfect lips, every squeeze of his fingertips against your body is only further cause for you to become nearly addicted to it.

He watches you as your move in time with each other, as your breasts bounce to the rhythm you’ve set for each other. He grounds his weight into one broad palm, pushing himself up so that he’s sitting upright beneath your body. He lets you continue to ride him while he fucks you underneath your form, teeth grazing against the gentle curve of your chin.

It’s sudden, the way the tables have turned. And without much warning, they promptly turn back. 

“So good,” he growls. “You gonna gimme another one? I know you have it in you.”

Your eyes squeeze shut as you nod, a desperate little wail escaping your mouth. Joel’s chuckle quickly turns into a moan as your walls clench and flutter around the hard line of his cock. He fucks you through it anyway, maintaining the pace you’ve built together.

“Good girl,” he rumbles in praise. “That’s my good fuckin” girl.”

Joel says that, and it’s all over. Joel says that, and you tumble over the crest he’s forged for you. You come and he continues to fuck you through the aftershocks. You shatter and he kisses your temple and tells you to go a little longer and you do. You fucking do. You might follow Joel to the ends of the goddamn earth if he asked that of you.

His forehead braces against yours while he meets his own edge. Your name is a groan in the back of his throat when he comes and it just might be the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.

He hisses as you slide off of him, your bodies sweaty and sticky and warm, and a part of you thinks he’s immediately going to leave. A part of you thinks he’s going to grab his clothes and his keys and tell you he’ll call you again soon and you fear he never will.

It’s a fucking shame, how quickly you pull yourself from the supposed afterglow.

Joel’s breathing is labored but he kisses you despite it, his hand coming up to run through your messy head of hair.

He holds you in your own bed. Your back is flush against his chest while he asks you questions about your life: how long have you lived in Austin? How long have you been a teacher? What’s your favorite book to teach? The softness of it causes your heart to squeeze while you share the answers with him.

You’re just about to reciprocate his questions with some of your own before a ringtone sounds, but this one doesn’t belong to your phone.

“Sorry,” Joel apologizes as he releases his hold on you, sliding out of bed. He pulls on his jeans, grabbing his phone from his back pocket before he takes the call.

You sit up, listening to one end of the conversation, and surmise it’s Joel’s daughter. His tone is gentle, reassuring, and it only furthers the pleasant ache in your chest. Until this point, you’ve only heard anecdotes of Joel’s adventures in fatherhood but never witnessed him engage in it.

He ends the call with a brief see you soon, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

“Was that your daughter?” You ask, sitting up.

“Yeah,” he says, swiping his shirt off your bedroom floor. “She was supposed to be stayin’ over a friend’s house, but they got in a fight and she asked me to pick her up. I don’t ask questions, I don’t have the brains to figure out…girl drama, but I gotta go.”

“Of course,” you say, and you’re not at all taken aback at his sudden leave. No, if Joel needs to get his daughter, that’s obviously paramount to pillow talk. There are no questions as he pulls on his boots and you pull your top overhead and your jeans over your legs.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes at your door. You shake your head and dismiss it immediately.

“Don’t apologize,” you assure him. “Please. Go get her.”

He kisses your cheek and gives your hand a little squeeze, and you revel in how it completely eclipses the size of your own.

“I’ll call you soon,” he tells you before he leaves.

Your apartment is quiet without him. You know you’ll replay the night in your head before you fall asleep, but before you do, you decide to prepare your apartment for a productive Saturday morning.

You prepare a pot of coffee, programming the machine to start brewing promptly at eight o’clock the next day. You toss the remaining wine from your glass and drain Joel’s beer down the sink, dumping the empty bottle into your recycling bin. You take your stack of essays from your tote, leaving them neatly on your kitchen table alongside a case full of newly-purchased gel pens. You know the version of you who wakes up tomorrow will be grateful for the care and preparation you’ve taken right now, to ready yourself for a productive morning.

The first essay in your stack belongs to Sarah Miller.

[mashithamel]

Episode 4 spoilery reactions (full book and show spoilers)

- I like how Fares Fares looks straight into the camera. Honestly I think it makes him a little scarier that he’s looking right at me, even if it breaks the fourth wall just a little.

- The Dark Prophesy!

- His weaves are so smooth compared to Aes Sedai—nice touch to show how they are different in their abilities, and how they would be distainful of the current channelers

- Properly creepy Lanfear intro

- This intro to the Cairhein nobility—the surface changes to hide aging and the dusty oppulence of the house.

- Yeah, that window’s patterns has to be important for them to focus on it? Someone outlined a fox head in it—I like that theory.

- Moiraine is just being a jerk to everyone, huh?

- Accepted rooms are better than expected.

- Oh, poor Nynaeve. She doesn’t even know how to respond to her friend’s compassion. “It wasn’t real. None if it was real.” It’s true, but not what she wants to hear.

- Lan’s hair is better here than in the arches. Color looks good on him too.

- Such a delightful family scene. I like how Ivohn and Maksim are just part of it.

- I like that Alanna is funny. “A Warder is supposed to laugh at his bond holder’s quips.”

- “[Breakfast] was at least two hours ago.” That is basically my sentiment in the morning, when I want to eat something like every two hours until lunch. Alanna is my people (which is a very uncomfortable statement)

- Alanna & co think Moiraine released him from his bond, right? That’s why she came to pick him up and why they are watching him so closely. He isn’t correcting them. He will still protect Moiraine’s secrets.

- “Nynaeve is going through the arches.” Oh, the painful difference between “I came as fast as I could” and “I’m not looking to repeat my failures.” This is as close to a Lanaeve moment as we get this episode, so I will milk it for all it’s worth. In the books he refuses Nynaeve because he has a death sentence (both externally and internally imposed). It’s an interesting change that here he’s refusing because he’s failed as a Warder and doesn’t want to fail Nynaeve as well (I guess it’s kind of the same thing, but it feels different). Plus the whole unresolved issues with Moiraine. But it does add a unique flavor to the refusal that I like.

- “A year or two before she bonded you.” We’ve established Moiraine’s timeline is different from the books, but interesting.

- I assumed those were cigars. But probably Two Rivers tabacc, however you want to interpret it.

- That little smile in the mirror. Just a tiny little look into who Moiraine Damodred was before the Tower, pretty and steeped in Daes de Mar.

- I like that Moiraine arranged for Logain to come to Cairhein.

- “I should kill you where you stand.” “You tried that once.” Hah!

- “Have you started training him yet?” Plots within plots. Always three steps ahead.

- “I know what you really want.” Oh, double meanings, and the way she looks at that dagger. She is so stubborn, so committed to her mission she won’t even give into suicide because of it. She is so strong. (But everything has a breaking point)

- I’ve seen Logain vs Asmodean as being Moiraine vs Lanfear, and I love it.

- “Why do you feel like you have to fix it?” “Cause I’m her friend.” Such a good question and such an honest, but inadequate, answer. Egwene can’t fix it, of course. But that desire to help, even though nothing can, is very relatable. And very in line with Egwene’s character.

- “I just feel smaller and smaller.” Oh, baby girl.

- I love that Nynaeve’s keyhole in her dress is much smaller here (shame it’s bigger in a later scene), it’s very in line with her preferring to be more covered up (at this point, at least!!)

- They teased us Mat with a quarterstaff in the BTS footage and I’m not going to stop being mad it was a fake out. This show will teach me patience or it will break me. Trusting you, Rafe. Don’t let me down!

- I love that Nynaeve’s seeking out her friends here, and that she actually has friends besides Egwene here, that are hers alone. A nice change. Too bad they aren’t actually here. They’re trying to take care of your man! But they would have been so good for her too, whatever Lan thinks of Maksim’s wisdom.

- This guy is very hot. And so smooth taking his shot. Look, I stan Lanaeve as much as the next fanatical shipper, but a girl can look, right?

- God, I love her glare here.

- “You know if she falls, you’ll fall with her.”

- “Are they all wolfbrothers? Am I going to change into…” “Don’t be stupid.” At least we stand a prayer of a chance of giving poor Perrin some answers instead of everyone just telling him ‘this is too dangerous’ or ‘you don’t know what you’re doing’ and they might actually tell him what to do instead!!! (I may have some lingering resentment from Perrin POVs)

- I like that the wolves understand Perrin’s loss, he doesn’t have to explain himself to them, they just get him.

- HOPPER!!!!

- Lan knows what the poem means. I’ve seen speculation he let Maksim see him put it away too, and I like it. The writers know this character too well to just have him be a big dumb solider. He’s a king, well read and well taught, and spent twenty years with Moiraine. He doesn’t know everything, but he’s far from stupid.

- Nice parallel with the well and water buckets

- I have chosen to believe these writers don’t waste screentime and words where they aren’t important. Some people thought Stepin’s whole storyline was pointless, but I loved it and thought it was important for us to understand the stakes of the bond. I don’t know how this is going to play out, but I’m choosing to trust they are spending all this time with Lan/Alanna&co for a reason and I’m going to enjoy it. We’ll see in <4 weeks if it was worth it…

- “Have you ever known a marriage that is exactly the same as another?” Come on, this has to be worth it just for all the varied relationships this show is going to give us. In addition to showing Lan an effective Warder who doesn’t need the bond (exclusively, at least).

- “I’m proof you can [go back to Moiraine]. If you want to.” Go, Lan! He leaves tonight, right??

- Ha, Maksim leaves him with all the water buckets

- Selene is effective. Much better than in the books. But still gag inducing. Honey, you need to get over him. You are a smart, capable woman. You don’t need to waste your life pining after the one guy who got away. Plus, you are evil now, so… Leave Rand alone!

- Dice rattling!!

- My poor Nynaeve. “I’m supposed to just forget her and everything that happened in there.” Might be nice if Lan, instead of Liandrin, was the one here to comfort her.

- “We Aes Sedai are cursed too…we have to sit and watch the people we love pass by instead.” I get the feeling when they do see each other, Nynaeve is going to be a lot more reluctant to pick up where she and Lan left things off. Or maybe it’ll be more along the lines of strike while the iron is hot?

- “I can see why they don’t let you teach Novices.” Hah! But don’t bond with Liandrin! She’s secretly evil!

- Lan says the word “wisdom” and gets a far off stare. I take it back, we get two Lanaeve moments in this episode. I’m taking them where I can get them. I’ve written fanfics based on less.

- They all want dessert after. Where do I sign up to be Alanna’s Warder?

- This nice juxtaposition, of Alanna with her Warders and family, and Nynaeve and Egwene, having support and other people, vs Moiraine who has pushed everyone away, making her job all that much harder, losing her eyes and ears in Cairhein to other loyalties. Very nice.

- Lady Anavare! You got the upper hand on an Aes Sedai and I love it.

- “Give us a moment.” “This is my room!” Nynaeve glare. Gotta love it. They are going to be so at odds with one another next episode, and it’s going to be delightful. Princess vs Wisdom and they have to learn to get along and eventually like each other. I’m so looking forward to it.

- As has been pointed out, the first of many concussions for Elayne

- I kind of like the temptation of Min. Make it more of a thing when it’s no longer a curse but something she can use to help those she cares about.

- Was the cabin there before? Like, she just made it, right?

- As a person with a frog phobia, I approve the swap of the grolm for a Fade. Thanks, Rafe!

- Yeah, I’m on team “Selene should have dropped the act as soon as she got him to channel.”

- Rand, baby, it’s a crush. It’s not real. Also, she’s evil.

- Gonna admit, I did not see Natasha as Lanfear (she looked so much like the Elaida in my head!). But I am sold on her.

- “Sure he’s asleep?” Nope. I would have liked them to include a shot of Lan riding away, but I don’t buy it. If he’s still there next episode I will be really disappointed.

- Dark prophesy translation!! I really do not care that it’s Alanna and not Verin that read this. Alanna makes sense for where we are in the show. Verin’s got other important prophesies to give us.

- That’s gotta be him recognizing a woman channeling, right?

- And Moiraine with the stone cold stabbing of people. At least in the end she got her man, and just in time.

- Aviendha next week!

[nightblood999]

Unique Podcasts:

If you’re looking for something different, try one of these:

 What’s the Frequency

               What’s The Frequency is a psychedelic noir audio drama podcast set in 1940s Los Angeles. Recently radio broadcasts in the city have been reduced to static, leaving a popular radio serial as the only remaining show on the air. Even then the show finds itself continuously interrupted by a mysterious broadcast. A lone distorted voice reaching out for help. Follow Walter “Troubles” Mix and his partner Whitney as they search for a missing writer and navigate through a city quickly falling into madness. Could the mysterious voice be the culprit? Will anyone be able to stop the madness from spreading? And… What’s The Frequency?

Why I love it: This podcast has some of the best and most loveable main characters ever written.

 Alba Salix, Royal Physician

           A witch, her apprentice, and her fairy herbalist treat the ills of a fairy-tale kingdom.

Why I love it: A fantasy podcast that not D&D or based on D&D? What? Also, Its absolutely hilarious once you get over Magnus’s voice.

 Windfall

           Ever since the castle first appeared in the sky above the city of Windfall, its residents have been building upward. Now the city consists of towers where the wealthiest residents live at the top while the poor eke out a living on the ground. Our podcast follows Cas, Shaima, and Argus, three brothers who live with their Uncle Vern after being orphaned during the grounder rebellion twenty years earlier. When Cas’s best friend, Kendall, is offered a position with the Wolfpac, Windfall’s military cult that acts as the city’s police, Cas is forced to decide where his loyalties lie. Meanwhile, something sinister looms over the city itself, threatening the lives of all who live in Windfall, from the wealthiest residents to the ground-level poor.

Why I love it: This is so well written, and so well voiced, and the sound design is amazing, and I don’t understand why it doesn’t have a cult following to be honest.

Time: Bombs

           Created, written, recorded, produced, and released in just one week, Time Bombs is a new audio drama podcast about the hilarious world of bomb disposal. From the team behind the Webby Award nominated sci-fi audio drama Wolf 359, ride along with EOD technician Simon Teller on the busiest night of the year for him and his team - when business is, quite literally, booming.

Why I love it: Its literally the same team that made my favorite podcast ever of course I love it.

 StarTripper!!

           Feston Pyxis, native of the bureaucracy planet Lorvin, has left it all behind! He’s said his goodbyes, he’s sold all his B-movie memorabilia, and he’s bought a Physiclast QCS-25 K-series ship, known to the wise as a “StarTripper.” Together with the onboard assistant PROXY, Feston’s looking for any and every good time there is to be had across the stars!

Why I love it: Its actually happy. There are so many sad podcasts with angst and inetemse emotion and this was something I could just…. Enjoy? With no hurt? Yes!

 Zero Hours:

         Zero Hours is an anthology series, where every story is a different take on the end of the world - or at least something that feels like the end of the world. Each episode is organized around a kind of apocalypse, whether the cataclysm is planetary or personal. The stories are also set in succeeding centuries, with 99-year intervals separating each episode. The show begins in the past, catches up to the present, and eventually overtakes it.

          Some installments are darkly comedic, others grimly contemplative, and others still thrillingly contentious. But they all explore the same question: how do we keep going when the world is crashing down around us? Again and again, issues of survival, trust, and personhood will plague our characters as they attempt to navigate dangerous, changing circumstances and figure out how to avert The End, or at least how to meet it.

Why I love it: This was also made by the team behind Wolf 359, and its such a unique concept.

 Fairy Tales for Unwanted Children

             Imagine if fairy tales were written like episodes of the Twilight Zone. Now imagine listening to them while happy music plays in the background.

Why I love it: I love the Twilight Zone, and nothing really filled that gap after I watched every episode ever produced. But Fairy Tales for unwanted children fills my need for more Grimm’s fairy tales and more twilight zone at the same time!

 Janus Descending

          Janus Descending is a limited series, science fiction/horror audio drama told through single perspective narration. The story follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists, Peter and Chel,  on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place. Told from alternating perspectives, Janus Descending is an experience of crossing timelines, as Peter describes the nightmare from end to beginning, and Chel, from beginning to the end.

Why I love it: Watching it all come together as Peter slowly works his way backwards through the story, and Chel forwards, was fascinating.

 The Antique Shop

           In desperate need of a job, Maya finds work in an old antique shop owned by a mysterious woman. The more time she spends in the shop the further the real world becomes, and Maya soon begins to realize that nothing is as it seems. 

Why I love it: This is the Genre that just Hits The Spot. It’s like Howls moving castle (Book version) but podcast form and slightly darker. Why is there not a bigger following for this podcast? It deserves a bigger following!

[satansjit]

Reflections on the Color of My Skin

By Neil DeGrasse Tyson

Wednesday, June 3, 2020

My colleague had other encounters with the law that he shared later that night, but his first story started a chain reaction among us. One by one we each recalled multiple incidents of being stopped by the police. None of the accounts were particularly violent or life-threatening, although it was easy to extrapolate to highly publicized cases that were. One of my colleagues had been stopped for driving too slowly. He was admiring the local flora as he drove through a New England town in the autumn. Another had been stopped because he was speeding, but only by five miles per hour. He was questioned and then released without getting a ticket. Still another colleague had been stopped and questioned for jogging down the street late at night.

As for me, I had a dozen different encounters to draw from. There was the time I was stopped late at night at an underpass on an empty road in New Jersey for having changed lanes without signaling. The officer told me to get out of my car and questioned me for ten minutes around back with the headlights of his squad car brightly illuminating my face. Is this your car? Yes. Who is the woman in the passenger seat? My wife. Where are you coming from? My parent’s house. Where are you going? Home. What do you do for a living? I am an astrophysicist at Princeton University. What’s in your trunk? A spare tire, and a lot of other greasy junk. He went on to say that the “real reason” why he stopped me was because my car’s license plates were much newer and shinier than the 17-year-old Ford that I was driving. The officer was just making sure that neither the car nor the plates were stolen.

Among my other stories, I had been stopped by campus police while transporting my home supply of physics textbooks into my newly assigned office in graduate school. They had stopped me at the entrance to the physics building where they asked accusatory questions about what I was doing. It was 11:30 p.m. Open-topped boxes of graduate math and physics textbooks filled the trunk. And I was transporting them into the building, which left me wondering how often that scenario shows up in police training videos.

We went on for two more hours. But before we retired for the night we searched for common denominators among the stories. We had all driven different cars—some were old, others were new, some were undistinguished, others were high performance imports. Some police stops were in the daytime, others were at night. Taken one-by-one, each encounter with the law could be explained as an isolated incident where, in modern times, we all must forfeit some freedoms to ensure a safer society for us all. Taken collectively, however, you would think the cops had a vendetta against physicists because that was the only profile we all had in common. In this parade of automotive stop-and-frisks, one thing was for sure, the stories were not singular, novel moments playfully recounted. They were common, recurring episodes. How could this assembly of highly educated scientists, each in possession of the PhD—the highest academic degree in the land—be so vulnerable to police inquiry in their lives? Maybe the police cued on something else. Maybe it was the color of our skin. The conference I had been attending was the 23rd meeting of the National Society of Black Physicists. We were guilty not of DWI (Driving While Intoxicated), but of other violations none of us knew were on the books: DWB (Driving While Black), WWB (Walking While Black), and of course, JBB (Just Being Black).

None of us were beaten senseless. None of us were shot. But what does it take for a police encounter to turn lethal? On average, police in America kill more than 100 unarmed black people per year. Who never made it to our circle? I suspect our multi-hour conversation would be rare among most groups of law-abiding people.

As I compose this, about 10,000 chanting protestors are filing past my window in Manhattan. And because of the intermittent looting and related violence, the curfew for this evening has been pushed earlier, to 8 p.m., from 11 p.m. in the preceding days. The most common placard was “Black Lives Matter.” Many others simply displayed the name George Floyd, who was handcuffed face-down on the street with a police officer’s knee on the back of his neck, applied with a force of at least half the officer’s body weight, resulting in his death. Curious irony that NFL star Colin Kaepernick offered a simple demonstration of care and concern for the fate of black people in the custody of police officers, by taking a knee during the Star Spangled Banner before football games. (One media outlet mangled the moment by describing him as protesting the national anthem.) The outrage against his silent act of concern for a national problem persisted through the 2017 season when, as a free agent, he went unsigned by any team to continue his livelihood.

So, we went from a peaceful knee to the ground to a fatal knee to the neck.

The way peaceful protesters and the press are being shoved, maced, tear-gassed, pepper-sprayed, and tackled in the streets of our cities (when the police should have focused on arresting the looters) you would think the protestors were doing something illegal or un-American. But, of course, the U.S. Constitution has something to say about it:

Congress shall make no law … abridging the freedom … of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.

Which amendment was that? The First Amendment. So, the founders of this nation felt quite strongly about it, empowering one to declare that protesting for redress of grievances is one of the most American things you can do. If you are the police, pause and reflect how great is the country whose Constitution endorses peaceful protests.

What do we actually expect from our police officers? To protect the peace and arrest the bad guys, I presume. But also, to be armed with lethal force that they can use when necessary. That part clearly requires training on how and when to use (and not use) the power of your weapons. The rigorous Minneapolis Police Academy training lasts 4 months. The slightly more rigorous NYC Police Academy lasts 6 months.

Yet to become a certified pastry chef at a prestigious culinary academy requires 8 months. The perfect croissant demands it. So maybe, just maybe, police recruits could benefit from a bit more training before becoming officers.

In 1991, Rodney King (age 25) was struck dozens of times, while on the ground, by four LAPD officers, with their batons, after being tased. The grainy 1990s video of that went media-viral, inducing shock and dismay to any viewer.

But I wasn’t shocked at all.

Based on what I already knew of the world, my first thought was, “We finally got one of those on tape.” Followed by, “Maybe justice will be served this time.” Yes, that’s precisely my first thought. Why? Since childhood my parents instilled in me and my siblings, via monthly, sometimes weekly lessons, rules of conduct to avoid getting shot by the police. “Make sure that when you get stopped, the officer can always see both of your hands.” “No sudden movements.” “Don’t reach into your pockets for anything without announcing this in advance.” “When you move at all, tell the officer what you are about to do.” At the time, I am a budding scientist in middle school, just trying to learn all I can about the universe. I hardly ever think about the color of my skin—it never comes up when contemplating the universe. Yet when I exit my front door, I’m a crime suspect. Add to this the recently coined “White Caller Crime,” where scared white people call the police because they think an innocent black person is doing something non-innocent, and it’s a marvel that any of us achieve at all.

The rate of abuse? Between one and five skin-color-instigated incidents per week, for every week of my life. White people must have known explicitly if not implicitly of this struggle. Why else would the infamous phrase, “I’m free, white, and 21” even exist? Here is a compilation of that line used in films across the decades. Yes, it’s offensive. But in America, it’s also truthful. Today’s often-denied “white privilege” accusation was, back then, openly declared.

The deadly LA riots associated with the Rodney King incident are often remembered as a response to the beating. But no. Los Angeles was quiet for 13 months afterward. Everyone had confidence, as did I, that the video was just the kind of evidence needed to finally bring about a conviction in the abuse of power. But that’s not what came to pass. The riots were a response to the acquittal of the four officers in the incident, and not to the incident itself. And what is a riot if not the last act of helpless desperation.

The 1989 film by Spike Lee “Do the Right Thing,” which explored 1980s black-white-police tensions in Brooklyn, New York, ends with a dedication to the families of six people. Eleanor Bumpers (age 66), Michael Griffith (age 23), Arthur Miller (age 30), Edmund Perry (age 17), Yvonne Smallwood (age 28), and Michael Stewart (age 25). All are black. One was killed by a white mob. The rest were unarmed and shot by police or otherwise died while in police custody. All deaths occurred within the 10 years preceding film, and all occurred in New York City. None of the police-induced deaths resulted in convictions, as continues to be true for 99% of all police killings.

We know of these events because they each ended in death. But even so, back then, it was just local news. Was this just NYC’s problem? I asked myself. But for every police-related death anywhere, how many unarmed victims are shot by police and don’t die, or are wrongfully maimed or injured? Most of those cases didn’t even make the local news. But if you lived there, you knew. We all knew. For what it’s worth, NYC now has the lowest police-caused death rate per capita among the sixty largest cities in the US. Is it that extra two months training in the Police Academy?

The corrosion and ultimate erosion of our confidence in the legal system in cases such as these, even in the face of video evidence, has spawned a tsunami of protests. With sympathetic demonstrations across the United States and around the world. If the threat of prison time for this behavior does not exist—acting as a possible deterrent—then the behavior must somehow stop on its own.

Some studies show that the risk of death for an unarmed person at the hands of the police is approximately the same no matter the demographics of who gets arrested. Okay. But if your demographic gets stopped ten times more than others, then your demographic will die at ten times the rate. I suppose we first have to get the bias factor down to zero, but then there’s still the matter of police killing unarmed suspects, white people included.

I talk a lot. But I don’t talk much about any of this, or the events along this path-of-most-resistance that have shaped me. Why? Because throughout my life I’ve used these occasions as launch-points to succeed even more. Yes, I parlayed the persistent rejections of society, which today might be called micro-aggressions, into reservoirs of energy to achieve. I learned that from my father, himself active in the Civil Rights Movement during the 1950s and 1960s.

In a way, I am who I am precisely because countless people, by their actions or inactions, said I could never be what I am. But what if you don’t have this deep supply of fuel? What becomes of you? Who from historically disenfranchised communities, including women, LGBTQ+, and anybody of color, are missing—falling shy of their full potential because they ran out of energy and gave up trying.

Are things better today than yesterday? Yes. But one measure of this truth is a bit perverse. Decades ago, unarmed black people getting beaten or killed by the police barely merited the local news. But now it’s national news—even breaking news—no matter where in the country it occurs.

So how to change all this? Organizations have surely assembled demands for police departments. Here, I offer a list of my own, for policy experts to consider:

Extend police academies to include months of cultural awareness and sensitivity training that also includes how not to use lethal force.

Police officers should all be tested for any implicit bias they carry, with established thresholds of acceptance and rejection from the police academy. We all carry bias. But most of us do not hold the breathing lives of others in our hands when influenced by it.

During protests, protect property and lives. If you attack nonviolent protesters you are being un-American. And you wouldn’t need curfews if police arrested looters and not protesters.

If fellow officers are behaving in a way that is clearly unethical or excessively violent, and you witness this, please stop them. Someone will get that on video, and it will give the rest of us confidence that you can police yourselves. In these cases, our trust in you matters more to a civil society than how much you stick up for each other.

And here’s a radical idea for the Minneapolis Police Department—why not give George Floyd the kind of full-dress funeral you give each other for dying in the line of duty? And vow that such a death will never happen again.

Lastly, when you see black kids, think of what they can be rather than what you think they are.

Respectfully Submitted

Neil deGrasse Tyson — trying hard to Keep Looking Up.

Copyright © 2018 Neil deGrasse Tyson

[tomfreakinghollandneedsaoscar]

Post It's

Pairing: JJ Maybank x You

Summary: JJ and you both work at the hotel. Never meeting each other, you leave notes on the others locker.

Word Count: 1,787

Warning: Fluff that's its tooth rooting.

Note: Knowing that JJ works as a bus boy in the show and seeing how well he looked in episode 5, I couldn't get this idea out of my head. Tumblr was keep messing up as I was writing this so I'm going to post this and throw my phone out of my bedroom window now :) I hope you love it! :)

━━━

"DON'T EAT SOMEONE ELSE'S LUNCH!"

"Or what? ;) - JJ"

"I'll end your whole career. Side note: I found out who ate my PB & Jelly sandwich and it wasn't you so don't get any idea's now. - Y/N"

━━━

JJ bullshit his way through the hiring process. It might not be his dream job, but it was easy. He had to do something when he realized he had to grow and man up. His father didn't teach him that. His the reason.

The small tips he gets from all the older women after he gives them more attention than their husband's - they're either on 'work' call or still playing a game of golf - doesn't hurt. It's adds up quick. He normally buys more groceries for him and John B as an unspoken thank you for letting him basically live with him. Then he treats himself with new weed. He needs it after surrounded by Kooks and playing the part of a little bitch for them.

As soon as he clocks out for the day, he undo the tie harshly. That's another thing he hates about this job - the uniform. White button up long sleeves, black dress pants with black dress shoes. If it's a morning and evening shift, the finish touch is a black vest. For nights, it's a black tie. Even if he is only walking around to give people refills, asking if they're doing fine, and cleaning up afterwards, his hair must look well put together.

He is unbutton his shirt when he stops in front of his locker. He's smiling at the post it on his locker before he even reads it. He knows who it's from.

It started a month ago. Someone left a message taped on the fridge in the break room for everyone to read. He knows he didn't have to, but he wrote down a response on the piece of paper. He wasn't expecting one back. When the front and back got filled up, he started looking for the same name on a locker. He left a post it note.

He reads the newest one on his locker.

"Fun fact of the day: you're reading this. - Y/N"

He rolls his eyes. He pulls it off and opens his locker, grabbing his normal clothes to go change. He adds it to the pile with the others.

JJ decides to stop at use book store. When a co-worker asks him if he is back for extra hours, he says no. He's carrying a shopping bag.

━━━

Your morning doesn't start on a good note. Your mind wakes you up ten minutes after your alarm should've gone off. You didn't plug in the charger all the way last night, so you're phone is at 14%.

Somehow you get to work on time. You notice you forgot your nametag.

At least there's a new post it on your locker.

"Funny. Not. Look inside and thank me later ;) PS. Don't write your new comb on the back of your lock again. - JJ"

You curse at yourself underneath your breath. You start laughing when you read the title of the book he left for you.

"365 Jokes For Kids: A Joke A Day Book."

You put it in your bag and grab your clear water bottle before closing your locker to clock in.

━━━

The giant clock on the wall taunts you. Only ten more minutes until your break and you can finally eat something.

From the dinner-room area a cute blonde starts walking towards you. By his outfit, you can't help to silent pray that he isn't a boy on a vacation and just knows how to look hot as hell all dressed up. Underneath a black vest, the long white button up shows off his muscles and the sleeves are rolled up, which is just another level of attractiveness itself, and his legs look long and firm in the dress pants. It's his hair that got your attention in the first place and now you can't help to watch as he pulls it, running his fingers through it.

Checking out cute guys all day is definitely a perk for you. Sitting behind a desk all day and being first person people see as they walk in, helping them check in or out, and answering calls is not how you wanted to spend your summer.

Last month your dad pulled some strings over a game of golf to land you this job. He sounds like a robot every time he tells you that you need to work your ass off to get the money you deserve. How is this doing that?

You get out of you thoughts when the cute blonde doesn't go in front of the desk. Instead you have to spin your chair sideways. He learns over the pull-up door and does a hand gesture, telling you to come over. You do.

"Hey."

"Hi?" It comes out as a questin since you're confused as to why he is keep looking back at the dinner room. He seems like he is afraid of getting caught. "Can I help with you something?"

"Can you make an announcement? Over the speaker loud enough for all they to hear?" He looks over again and points.

"It all matters about what you want me to say."

"Say that it's hard as fuck for me to do my job when lil Satan's are running around and how great it would be if parents tell them to stop before I do. I can't get written up or life my job because of them."

You try to hide your excitement when you find out he works here. He's not wearing a nametag. You know that it's only bus boys who don't. Briefly, you wonder if he knows JJ.

"I'm sorry. I wish I could but I can't. Parents will come up and start yelling at me that I should keep my mouth shut and thoughts to myself."

He clenches his jaw and mumbles, "yeah. Right, of course."

"When I come back from my lunch, you can-uh everytime you want to lose your shit, look over here, and I'll give you a thumbs up for not killing someone. Especially the kids."

His laugh makes you wish he is JJ.

Someone comes from behind him to release you. He doesn't say anything before walking away.

But later, you lose track on how many times he looks over at you and mouths, "help me".

━━━

The next day on his day off, he gushes over the front desk girl to his friends. "She made me not want to hurt a room of kooks. I think she has superpowers or some shit."

Kiara takes a hint of his blunt. "I'm kinda jealous, not going to lie. What's her name? I need her to tell how she did it after talking to you for only a couple of minutes when I've been your friend for years."

"I don't know. She wasn't wearing a nametag and I forgot to ask." Pope slaps him on the back of the head. "You forgot or worried she wasn't Y/N?"

"Oh my god!" Sarah squeals, "What if the front desk girl is also post it girl?"

JJ chokes on the hit he was taking. "Life doesn't work like that." For me. He thinks to himself. He makes eye contact with John B. Curse him for being able to read him.

"I think it's time to ask Y/N meet up, dude."

━━━

When he walks through the front doors, he catches himself getting upset seeing someone else at the front desk. He still waves and says good morning. On the door of the back room, there's a sign.

"MANDATORY STUFF MEETING WEDNESDAY, IN THE LOBBY AT 6PM"

On the very bottom, he notices Y/N handwriting.

"Looks like we'll finally meet. ♡ - You Know Who"

He kicks the door open.

━━━

He is still thinking about the stupid little heart when a waiter calls him to come over towards the kitchen. "Can you bring this to the front desk?"

"This isn't a drive in restaurant- you know what? I shouldn't be surprised and know not to ask stupid questions." He salutes the waiter and grabs the bag.

He stops dead in his tracks.

The front desk girl is now there, talking on the phone and writing stuff down. When she feels someone looking instantly at her, she looks up. She smiles and gives a small wave.

JJ cringes at himself and tries to not trip over his own two feet. He puts down the bag, and looks at everything and anything but her as he waits for her to finish the call. When she does, he quickly states, "Someone ordered food to get pick-up."

"Ah yes, Mr. Hough. He called saying he was carving for some of the all you can eat bread rolls."

When she says the name, it's like a lightbuld goes over his head as he remembers. He doesn't listen to the rest of what she says.

Before he can ask, the phone is ringing. "I should answer." She smiles and it makes him feel a tug in the corner of his mouth. "See you at the meeting tonight?"

"Yeah. I should go back to working too."

━━━

Your eyes go wide when the cute blondie sits next to you at the same time the manager says the meeting will begin shortly.

"Hey, how are you?" You ask after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Fine." He splits out.

"Doesn't sound like it." You cross your arms against your chest. He doesn't say anything, only rolls his eyes and takes his red snapback hat off. In the corner of your eye, you watch him pull on the loose trends.

Grabbing your bag off the ground, you open it to see what you can do to pass the time like him.

"Holy shit."

You look up at him, confused. You notice he is staring at the joke book JJ gave to you. With the way he makes eye contact with you, you can tell that he is nervous.

But why would he-

"Oh my god."

"JJ, Y/N." Both of almost get whip flash to look and listen to your manager. "Pay attention please."

━━━

You're going through all the post it's in your locker, dropping some when an arm wraps around you and your boyfriend. He kisses your cheek. "Are you ready?"

"To meet your friends? I'm kinda nervous. But you've told me so much about them that I already feel like I know them."

"Trust me, they'll say the same thing about you. Ignore the names they call you."

━━━

"You're the peanut butter to my jelly. - JJ"

"That's the cheeses thing you have ever said. Say more. - Y/N."

━━━━━━━━━━━━

Taglist: @harrysbbby @sunflowerbecca @latenitewolves @outrbank @katerosexx

[toaarcan]

One ship exposes everything wrong with TRoS

Heaven help me, I’m back on my bullshit.

Alright, so, I enjoyed The Rise of Skywalker when I watched it. I actually watched it twice, once on my own when I rushed to see it as soon as possible in order to beat spoilers, and once with my family, in what was a semi-annual new year tradition for us during those four years that a Star Wars film released.

But that doesn’t mean it was good. I enjoyed Transformers: Dark of the Moon the first time I watched it, and that movie’s still a steaming pile of shit. I was admittedly fifteen when I saw DotM, but still. 

My point is that I’m fully capable of enjoying crappy films.

But there’s one thing, one thing about TRoS that exemplifies so many of the problems with TRoS as a whole, if not everything (And by that I mean with TRoS specifically, the woeful treatment of John Boyega and Kelly Marie Tran is a Whole Trilogy Problem). And it’s a ship. Specifically this ship.

The Resistance Y-Wing. I hate this ship with the fiery passion of an exploding star, and to talk about why, we need to first go back to The Last Jedi and its conspicuous lack of Y-Wings.

One of the things that I disliked most about the Sequels before TRoS put all the other problems into stark light was the lack of new ships. Instead of new vehicles, we got shinier, sleeker versions of the ships from the original trilogy. And I disliked this because it’s the opposite of what the Prequels did.

Episodes I-III don’t feature more primitive versions of the X-Wing and TIE Fighter, but instead have similar vehicles that evoke the classics while still having an identity of their own.

The ARC-170 looks kinda like an X-Wing, but it’s bigger and has more weapons and crew, and you get why the well-funded Republic can afford things like this while the scrappy Rebels can’t.

The Eta-2 is a predecessor to the TIE Fighter, but it being employed exclusively by Jedi makes a lot of sense, of course a precognitive wizard with superhuman reflexes can do well in a light, unshielded ship, while in the hands of the Empire’s military they’re just expendable swarm fighters.

But then in the Sequels, rather than evolve the ships into new forms, they just made new incarnations of the X-Wing, TIE Fighter, A-Wing, TIE Interceptor, B-Wing, and of course the Y-Wing.

Well, except for one movie: The Last Jedi.

At the outset of the film, we’re introduced to this ship.

This is the MG-100 StarFortress, AKA “That ship all the Star Wars Youtubers hate”. It’s designed to be a much heavier and bulkier version of the B-Wing Starfighter, and is even made by the same people.

From questions about how the bombs “fall” toward the Dreadnought (The answer is magnets) to claims that they’re completely useless because most of the ones in the film died so easily, these things have been put through the wringer by the fandom, and honestly they don’t deserve it? What destroyed the StarFortresses in the film wasn’t their own weaknesses, but them being deployed in too tight a formation. It was a tactical fuckup, not a problem with the ship’s design.

And given that the whole point of the battle over D’Qar is that Poe makes a tactical fuckup to kickstart his development into the new leader of the Resistance as a whole, adding another layer makes sense to me.

But we live in a post-CinemaSins world of media consumption, where every plot-point that isn’t spelled out with a flowchart and an audio commentary by the writers is actually a plothole. 

We also live in an era where Star Wars fans pine for the days of the Legends canon where everything about new ships, species, and worlds was explained in background lore and books, and are angry that the new Canon is... doing exactly the same thing?

Seriously, how much exposition and lore dumping is actually present in any of the Star Wars films? Not a whole lot. And that applies to all three eras. 

So the StarFortress’ appearance in the film and the lack of Y-Wings led to a bevy of armchair writers demanding to know why the Resistance weren’t using Y-Wings and why they were using those “Resistance Bombers” that are just ‘terrible’.

Answer? Because the Y-Wings sucked shit.

Seriously, go back to the Original Trilogy and try to keep track of the Y-Wings, and see what they actually do, and you’ll find that what they do is “Explode, mostly.”

We’re first introduced to the Y-Wings in A New Hope, and they’re supposed to be the ones performing the Trench Run while the X-Wings cover them, and to their credit, they try.

And then they all get blown up by Vader and his wingmen before they can even take a shot at the exhaust port. Well, except that one that appears with the rebel ships flying away from the Death Star.

Where the fuck were you when the X-Wings were doing the attack run?

The Y-Wings got absolutely wrecked.

Ancillary media would go on to explain that the Y-Wings were beat-up old vehicles that were no longer fit for purpose, but the Rebels had to use them anyway because they had basically no money. They’d stripped down the ships and removed a bunch of their more costly features just to make them viable, and the results of that were pretty clear.

Of course, the Y-Wings were still present in the later films. They don’t do anything in The Empire Strikes Back, but they play a role in Return of the Jedi.

Naturally, that role is mostly “Get blown up while the other ships do the important stuff”.

Despite supposedly being a fighter-bomber that was designed to do significant damage to capital ships, does the Y-Wing play a role in the destruction of the Executor? Does it fuck. Destroying the Imperial flagship’s deflector shields and the subsequent suicidal ram attack on the bridge are tasks that are both performed by the goddamn A-Wings. Y’know, the light interceptors?

The Y-Wings get shown up at their own job by the ships that are there to protect them from TIE Fighters.

Ancillary media again explains why they’re still there. While the Rebels have a newer, better fighter-bomber in the B-Wing, the B-Wing is expensive as fuck and also really difficult to fly. 

A non-centreline cockpit that rotates will do that to a ship.

Still, the B-Wing was a better bomber than the Y-Wing ever was (And the StarFortress was better than them both at that role).

All this adds up to a simple fact: There were very good reasons why the Resistance weren’t using Y-Wings. And there were even reasonable reasons to choose the StarFortress compared to the B-Wing itself, given that the Resistance are still undermanned and under-funded, especially with the New Republic getting nuked midway through The Force Awakens. It being easier to fly and having more armaments would have made it a viable choice for the Resistance.

Buuuut oops, people didn’t like the StarFortress and we can’t make the Internet angry at us again! Better put the Y-Wings back in for Episode IX, and show them destroying a Xyston-class Destroyer, that’ll make them happy!

And sure, okay, giving the Resistance a fighter/bomber is probably a good idea. And they already have New X-Wings and New A-Wings, so where’s the harm in a New Y-Wing?

Alright, alright, sure. But why the fuck does it look like this?

If this is a new ship, why is it already stripped-down like the ones in the Original Trilogy? Why doesn’t it look like the actual brand-new Y-Wings we saw in The Clone Wars? 

Now that’s more like it. Still visibly a Y-Wing, but with more of an identity of its own. 

Seriously, “Literally the same ship but without its armour pulled off” has more of a unique identity than the crowd-pleasing New Y-Wing.

And that, in and of itself, is the essence of The Rise of Skywalker.

It’s blind, empty fanservice, rushing to include as much nostalgia-pandering as possible to try and get the fanbase back on-side after The Last Jedi didn’t do what the fanboys wanted it to do.

This is a whole near- three hour movie whose only message is “Yes, Youtubers making TFA critiques longer than an entire season of TCW, we hear you, we’ll make it for you, please love us!”

And, almost entirely predictably, it was shite.

It was riddled with plotholes and none of the scenes had any time to breathe because the movie was too desperately trying to rush itself to the next crowd-pleasing scene in a desperate attempt to wank off as many disgruntled fanboys as it possibly could.

Luke with his green saber! Jedi Leia! Chewie gets a medal! Lando! Luke raises his X-Wing out of the water! The main villain is a testicle in a bathrobe again! Snork origin! Original-flavour Star Destroyers! Rose doesn’t exist! Rey had a super-special secret magical bloodline the whole time and Luke and Leia totally knew even though Luke has literally no idea who she is in Episode VIII! Luke actually was just afraid of the bad guys in Episode VII, none of that self-imposed exile for his own mistakes nonsense! Y-Wings.

I mean fuck. Disagree with Luke’s portrayal in TLJ all you like, I certainly have my issues with it, but I lay those at the feet of JJ for making Luke’s absence into one of his fucking Mystery Boxes, and then deciding that, even though last time Luke sensed Leia and Han might be in danger, he abandoned his Jedi training, hopped in an X-Wing, and flew halfway across the galaxy to try and save them, he wouldn’t do shit when the First Order pointed a star-powered System-Killer 9000 at Leia, and Han got himself killed trying to redeem Kyle Ron. Like how in fuck was Rian supposed to explain Luke’s inaction in VII?

But regardless of the problems with that Luke portrayal, at least Mark Hamill gave it his all. Hell, it might be his best performance in the Star Wars franchise!

 In TRoS, he shows up in a bad wig, waves a middle finger at TLJ, and ascends to his final form as a Lightsaber Delivery Boy, because apparently all you need to kill a Sith who literally clawed his way back from death is two lightsabers. Haunting Kyle Ron? Nope. Providing guidance as a ghost? Not really.

And y’know what the kicker is? It didn’t fucking work. Lucasfilm and Disney fucking gutted this trilogy, sliced out the integrity, surgically removed the soul of Episode IX in a desperate effort to make the Internet’s most unpleasable fanbase happy, and it didn’t work. They still hate it! Now they just concoct hour-long videos about how much they would’ve preferred to have the Trevorrow script (Which is admittedly much better, albeit still with it’s far share of giant flaws), which was probably thrown out because it wasn’t fanservicey enough!

The Rise of Skywalker is an awful film. It’s a loose collection of nostalgia-baiting moments, roughly stapled together around the skeleton of a plot that was never properly developed. It’s a Frankenstein’s Monster of a movie, but, and I say this with full offense, the Victor Frankenstein in this tragic story isn’t Lucasfilm or Disney or Kathleen Kennedy or Rian Johnson, or even JJ Abrams. It’s you, Star Wars Fandom. It is your monster. 

[duhragonball]

Chronology of Wishes

I’ve been meaning to do this for a while, and I’ve got some time to kill this afternoon, so let’s spend it by going over all the wishes in Dragon Ball.

I think I’m just gonna avoid the Super Dragon Balls for now, because that would require me to delve into the Zamasu arc, and fuck that shit.

Main DB/DBZ Continuity

9/9/749: Emperor Pilaf summons Shenron.  Oolong wishes for panties to prevent Pilaf from becoming ruler of the world.  [GT: This wish gives rise to the Six-Star Shadow Dragon, Oceanus Shenron.]

5/12/750: Goku summons Shenron and Upa wishes for the resurrection of his father, Bora.  [GT: This wish gives rise to the Two-Star Shadow Dragon, Haze Shenron.]

5/8/753: King Piccolo summons Shenron and wishes for his youth to be restored.  He then kills Shenron to prevent anyone else from using the Dragon Balls against him.  [GT: This wish gives rise to the Four-Star Shadow Dragon, Nuova Shenron.]

5/9/753: Kami reactivates Shenron and allows the Dragon Balls to be used immediately.  Bulma and Yamcha wish for the resurrection of all of the people killed by King Piccolo and his underlings. [GT: This wish gives rise to the Three-Star Shadow Dragon, Eis Shenron.]

11/2/762: Master Roshi and Bulma summon Shenron and wish for the resurrection of Son Goku.  [GT: This wish gives rise to the Five Star Shadow Dragon, Rage Shenron.]

12/24/762: Dende summons Porunga on Namek, and wishes for the resurrection of Piccolo, the teleportation of Piccolo to Namek, and the teleportation of everyone but Frieza and Son Goku to Earth. 

Upon his resurrection, Kami reactivates the Earth’s Dragon Balls and sends Mr. Popo to collect them and summon Shenron.   Popo is instructed by King Kai to wish for the resurrection of everyone killed by Frieza and his soldiers. [GT: Popo’s wish gives rise to the One-Star Shadow Dragon, Eis Shenron]

5/3/763: Dende summons Porunga on Earth, and wishes for Krillin’s spirit to be relocated from the Namek system.  He then wishes for Krillin’s resurrection, and Yamcha’s resurrection.  

9/10/763: Dende summons Porunga on Earth, and wishes for Tien’s resurrection, then Chiaotzu’s resurrection, then for all of the Namekian people to be relocated to a new homeworld.

?/?/766?: The Pilaf Gang summons Shenron and wishes to be made younger.  [This wish was established in Battle of Gods, but it is unclear when exactly it occurred.  Since they appeared to be the same age as Goten and Trunks in BoG, they must have made the wish no earlier than the year of Trunks’ birth.]

5/26/767: Dende summons Shenron and Yamcha wishes for the resurrection of everyone killed by Cell. Krillin wishes for the explosive bombs to be removed from the bodies of Androids 17 and 18.

5/7/774: Bulma summons Shenron and Yamcha wishes for everyone killed that day to be brought back to life, except for the very bad ones. [GT: This wish gives rise to the Seven Star Shadow Dragon, Naturon Shenron.]

5/8/774: Dende summons Porunga on Namek, and makes three wishes at the request of Vegeta: The restoration of the destroyed Earth; the resurrection of everyone killed since the day of the 25th World Tournament, except for the very bad ones; and the restoration of Son Goku’s strength.

11/7/774: Six months after the previous wish, Goku summons Shenron and wishes for everyone’s memory of Majin Buu to be erased, with the exception of Dragon Team.  [GT: The Dragon Ball GT: Perfect File book states that this wish created Eis Shenron, but this directly conflicts with the information stated in the anime itself.]

DB/DBZ movies

Age 749: Bulma summons Shenron to defeat King Gurumes.  Pansy wishes for the Blood Rubies to be removed from the kingdom.  [DB Movie 1: Curse of the Blood Rubies]

Age 749: Bulma (?) summons Shenron and Goku wishes for the resurrection of Android 8. [DB Movie 4: Path to Power]

Age 753: Goku summons Shenron and wishes for the resurrection of Bora. [DB Movie 3: Mystical Adventure.]

Age 761: Garlic Junior summons Shenron and wishes for immortality. [DBZ Movie 1: Dead Zone]

Age 762: Dr. Cochin summons Shenron and wishes for the ice to be melted around Dr. Wheelo’s fortress. [DBZ Movie 2: World’s Strongest.] 

Krillin and Gohan summon Shenron and wish for a forest to be restored from a fire caused by Turles’ probe. [DBZ Movie 3: Tree of Might.]

Lord Slug summons Shenron and wishes for his youth to be restored.  [DBZ Movie 4: Lord Slug.]

Age 774: Goten summons Shenron (maybe?) and wishes for Goku to join them in battle against Broly [DBZ Movie 10: Broly - Second Coming.]

Gohan summons Shenron and wishes for the dead to be removed from the living world.  However, Shenron is unable to grant the wish.  It is unknown if any other wish was granted instead. [DBZ Movie 12: Fusion Reborn.]

Age 775(?): Goku summons Shenron and wishes for Tapion to be freed from his music box. It is stated in the movie that Shenron will be used again to repair the damage in West City, but this is never shown. [DBZ Movie 13: Wrath of the Dragon.]

Dragon Ball Super, Battle of Gods, Resurrection F

8/18/778: Goku summons Shenron and wishes to hear the story of the Super Saiyan God.  [DBZ Movie 14: Battle of Gods.]

?/?/779: Sorbet summons Shenron and wishes for the resurrection of Frieza. Shu wishes for one million zeni.  [DBZ Movie 15: Resurrection F.    Note: In Dragon Ball Super, Mai also wishes for ice cream, taking advantage of a third wish not mentioned in the film.] Bulma later speaks of using Shenron to restore North City, which Freiza destroyed, but this is never depicted.

?/?/779: Goku summons Porunga on New Namek to resurrect Piccolo after the battle with Golden Frieza. [DBS Episode 27]

?/?/779: Beerus summons Shenron and wishes for information on the Super Dragon Balls.  When Shenron proves unable to grant this wish, Beerus wishes for him to go away. [DBS Episode 29]

Unknown: Kibitoshin summons Porunga and wishes to be separated into Kibito and the Supreme Kai. [DBS Episode 32]

?/?/779: Goku summons Shenron, and Gohan wishes to have Pan cured from a fever.  Though Shenron still has one more wish to grant, he deactivates due to the extraordinary time spent waiting for the wish to be made. [DBS Episode 68]

?/?/780: Cheelai summons Shenron and wishes for Broly to be teleported back to Vampa. [DBS Movie 1: Broly.]

Dragon Ball GT

Age 789: Emperor Pilaf summons “Ultimate Shenron” using the Black Star Dragon Balls, and wishes for Goku to become a child again.

Baby summons “Ultimate Shenron” using the Black Star Dragon Balls and wishes for Planet Vegeta to be recreated in the Earth’s solar system.

Age 790: Goku attempts to summon Shenron to undo the damage done in the Super 17 crisis, but releases the seven Shadow Dragons instead.  After defeating the Shadow Dragons, Shenron is restored.   Goku’s wishes to revive those killed by the Super 17 and Shadow Dragon conflicts. 

Observations

Part of the reason I wanted to do this was to get a better handle on Dragon Ball Super’s continuity.   It seems like a lot of wishes get made in a very short span of time.   Although, now that I count them out, Shenron only grants six wishes in a two year span:

Telling Goku about the Super Saiyan God in Movie 14.

Resurrecting Frieza for Sorbet in Movie 15.

Giving Shu 1,000,000 zeni in Movie 15.

Giving Mai ice cream in DBS Episode 19.

Going away for Beerus in DBS Episode 29.

Healing Pan’s fever in DBS Episode 68.

However, there are still some inconsistencies in this.  In Res F, Shenron said he could only grant two wishes that day, while in DBS #19, he said he could do three.   Either way, his wishing capacity was all used up, and yet Dragon Team was already planning to summon him again to revive Golden Frieza’s victims.  (Maybe they used Porunga for that, since they had to revive Piccolo anyway?) 

Beerus wished for nothing in DBS 29, but apparently that still counts as a wish, so by the time Episode 68 rollled around, Shenron still had two wishes left to grant.  So this cycle of wishes would have to be one year after the events of Res F.  And maybe they are.   It’s hard to tell with Super.

It would be handy if they would just establish that Dende increased Shenron’s wishing powers after the Buu Saga.  In the latter half of DBZ, Dende fixed it so Shenron could grant at least two wishes, and these could be used up to six months apart.  At times, it’s implied that Shenron can grant up to three wishes, so long as none of them involve resurrecting more than one person.   But Toei & Shueisha have never been clear on this, and the discrepancy between Movie 15 and DBS #19 make that pretty clear. 

At other times, Shenron only grants one wish and leaves without mentioning a second or third.    I guess you could chalk this up to Shenron having already granted another wish earlier in the year, and he’d have no reason to explain why he only has one left. 

The “cooldown” period on the Earth’s Dragon Balls is supposed to be one year, but that’s never been well-observed.  Toriyama whizzed it on the first go-round, because the first and second Dragon Ball hunts were eight months apart.   Then the third and fourth summonings of Shenron were less than 24 hours apart, because Kami agreed to suspend the rules “just this once.”   He did it again a few years later, so that Popo could wish back everyone killed by Frieza.

I guess this lends credence to what the Elder Kai said in Dragon Ball GT, about the Dragon Balls needing to “rest” for centuries between wishes.  Throughout the main story, the Dragon Balls weren’t even getting the full year a lot of the time.  And DBS played so fast and loose with it that I’m forced to consider that Dende augmented them without telling anyone.  

I kind of like the approach Dende used in DBZ Abridged, where he told Porunga that they had six wishes, and suggested that he just grant them all up front instead of everyone having to come back and do this again 130 days later.   Maybe DBS!Dende had the same idea.  

Regarding the GT continuity, I think the Shadow Dragons were an interesting concept.  “Use the Dragon Balls too much, and you have to fight a cool monster!”   The trouble was that most of the monsters were decidedly uncool, and they really didn’t explain why some wishes created Shadow Dragons while others did not.   Like... okay, Oolong’s wish for panties created a Shadow Dragon, but why that one in particular?   Presumably, that wish was the first one anyone had made in hundreds of years.   It was the later wishes that compounded the problem, right?   Also, why didn’t the wishes made after the Cell Games create an eighth or ninth Shadow Dragon?  I mean, there wasn’t enough Dragon Balls for them to each have one lodged in their head, but it seems like a missed opportunity. 

One last note: It seems like there would be a decent window for Movie 13 to fit into the main canon.  I once questioned how you could work the extra wishes in between the “Forget Majin Buu” wish and “Battle of Gods”, but it’s like a four-year gap.  The only plot hole is that Gohan and Videl would still be in school, and that their school is inexplicably in West City.  Maybe I could do something with that, though...

[oneweekoneband]

In the first cold hours of a new December morning, Taylor Swift once again revealed herself to be the primary antagonist in my hero’s journey. Weary and woebegone as I am, I will not waste strength on any attempt to deny that this latest attack has knocked me off balance, but I believe it is important that I—we, really, the lot of us who have been bloodied pitiably beneath this most brutal show of force—rebound immediately into a defensive posture so that there might be any hope at all for survival. Taylor’s second pandemic album will be released at midnight tonight, so I guess Shakespeare and his little “play” about elder abuse can get fucked after all. The album is called evermore. It was hubris, I can see in retrospect, which led me to tempt my enemy by writing all these words about her on this, the week of her birthday, knowing as I do that Taylor is one of those especially dangerous adults who make a big deal about both birthdays and lucky numbers. Icarus is my name now, covered in melted wax and tumbling to the sea. So as to steel ourselves for these horrors yet to come, I offer now, with not arrogance but the faith of the foolhardy, my best conjecture as to the content of each detestable track. 

willow - Could be about a tree. Could be about a girl. More likely it is both somehow, which is extremely pervy, and not just because that’s part of the plot of the unspeakably cursed The Raven Cycle novels, which I, a full blown adult with, generally speaking, normal brain function, voluntarily read for the first time this summer because some of us, ma’am, used the pandemic for activities that hurt only ourselves, not others. Well, happy holidays, tree fuckers.

champagne problems - Whatever this is, know that I will be considering it a work after Fall Out Boy’s “Champagne for My Real Friends, Real Pain for My Sham Friends” and I’ll be right to do so and many people will say as much admiringly and they’ll smile at me with pride and doff their caps as I go.

gold rush - If this song is anything but a loving, comprehensive summation of the children’s novel DEAR AMERICA Seeds of Hope: The Gold Rush Diary of Susanna Fairchild then I’m going to walk directly out of my home and, deadly virus be damned, keep walking until I’ve entered Taylor Swift’s instead, at which point I will begin to scream out a litany of complaints at the very top of my voice, ceasing only when her security team kills me or we fall in love.

tis the damn season - Worst case scenario this is a sad Christmas song (the best kind of Christmas song) and it devastates me in the most degrading way possible. Best case scenario it’s really bad and dumb and I can live without pain.

tolerate it - Many possibilities here. Could be about white-knuckling it through a period of depression, or a breakup. Most obviously, it could be about COVID-19 lockdowns keeping us trapped in our homes, disconnected from loved ones, going slow-brained and strange, bowls piling up, and suddenly so desperate for human interaction that even memories of having drinks with somebody from Hinge who quoted Friends twice in an hour are tantalizing in comparison to the touch-starved dreamstate of staying indoors... But I kinda feel like this is Taylor replying “COPE” from on high to my tweets about how I would rather be boiled alive than have to face the existence of this record.

no body, no crime (feat. Haim) - What would be very good is if this is a homosexual romp about Taylor Swift and the one hot Haim guitar girl with the really gay energy doing a murder together a la “Somethin’ Bad” by Miranda Lambert with Carrie Underwood, but honestly, it is probably another song about Gone Girl.

happiness - Impossible to speak on this since, thanks to Taylor Swift, happiness is something with which I have no familiarity. 

dorothea - Have seen chirping on the odious bird application about how perhaps this song title suggests that Taylor has written a song about Middlemarch, titling it for Dorothea Brooke, but I reject this because it implies that Taylor has read Middlemarch, which is a premise I cannot accept. Whether this refusal is out of self-preservation, being unwilling and in fact unable to face a world where Taylor Swift read and was moved to creation by the novel which was my most essential friend the summer I got dumped by a guy who I still had to work feet away from in a candle factory for another month, and about which Emily Dickinson (Emily Dickinson whose birthday it happens to be today, which isn’t to say that this means anything about anything. I am simply trying to batten down all hatches literally and spiritually in light of having been had once again by this numerology obsessed demon) once wrote "What do I think of Middlemarch? What do I think of glory.” or because I just at my core do not believe that Taylor has read a single book since Gone Girl I couldn’t possibly say.

coney island (feat. The National) : Some ungodly americana ass bullshit that is going to ruin my life. The thought of holy terror shaped like a horse girl Taylor Swift and trickster nymph in the body of a tax accountant Matt Berninger, two individuals I have allowed, separately, to cause me grievous psychic harm, having even the barest amount of one to one contact, even digitally, has made me want to peel all my skin off and put it back on flipped inside out so that I might, when I look in the mirror, see a version of myself which approximates how I feel.

ivy - Another song for the plant lesbians. That’s fine, and I’m happy for that community, but what I want to know, looking at this growing pile of songs named after women, is where, Taylor, is the song about loudmouth queen Inez, legendary gossip and, for my money, the star of folklore?  

cowboy like me - Putting it as mildly as humanly possible, to slit my throat would be less cruel. I am drawing a straight line from me writing illegible sequels to perfect film An American Tail: Fievel Goes West (itself a sequel) in crayon as a toddler, to Paula Cole’s “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone?” on the radio in my mom’s two door Honda, to me everyday after school in third grade changing into the cowboy costume my godmother bought, to me at fourteen internalizing a sense of righteous indignation that would take years to even begin to outgrow when Crash beat Brokeback Mountain for Best Picture, to the winter I dropped half my classes out of fear and sickness and read paperback westerns on the twenty third floor of the college library for tens of hours at a go, to the profoundly gay episode of Supernatural called “Tombstone” which is, yes, named for the profoundly gay cowboy film Tombstone, to the inspired and revitalizing pause in “Space Cowboy” by Kacey Musgraves where she’s like, “You can have your space........ cowboy”, to Mitski’s Be the Cowboy, to the perfect boygenius cover of certified classic “Cowboy Take Me Away”, to whatever the hell this is going to be.That line is not to make a point at all. It’s just that there is a line and beside it there is me, incapacitated.

long story short - Just like all the other times anyone has ever invoked this phrase in the entire history of human beings expressing themselves with language, it is going to be a huge lie, because this woman never shuts up.

marjorie - After all that Taylor has put me through over the years, she should have at least named one of these wretched things “ellen” after my dead Sagittarian grandmother, whose birthday is tomorrow, December 11th, which is again, the release date of Taylor Swift’s second album in sixth months, but it’s probably for the best that she didn’t because you simpletons would immediately think it was an homage to George Bush’s friend Dory the fish, and therefore gay, regardless of the actual text of the song, and it’d be the “betty” massacre all over again. That being said, this is almost assuredly another horny song about some mid-century white lady. Only days ago Taylor was telling Entertainment Weekly that she’s been watching a lot of movies in quarantine, and while she didn’t name 1958’s Marjorie Morningstar starring Natalie Wood, I wouldn’t put it past her.

closure - God, I hope this one is another Kaylor classic so we can all act like complete raving lunatics online from the confines of our own plague quarters for a few days. It’s been a hard year.

evermore (feat. Bon Iver) - I’ll be catatonic by this point. Who cares?

right where you left me - Yes, in hell.

it’s time to go - Yes, TO HELL.

[life-rewritten]

SPOOKY/ NON SPOOKY BLS TO WATCH IN HALLOWEEN

Happy Spooky Season BL Fans! Honestly so sad that in Halloween we can't really fully enjoy it due to the pandemic out there. So why not stay at home and have a fun night in during this spooky month watching BLS with spooky/entertaining shows to get you into the spirits. Surprisingly there was a lot of shows from different countries I could add to this list. Join me and let me know what shows you plan to watch for this Halloween! 

Ratings: From 1 to 5 (1 being least excited to watch, 5 being most,) how excited am I to delve into these shows/again? 

Korea

1. Antique

Ratings: 4/5 Genre/Themes: Psychology, Thriller, Bakery,  Bromance, Open ending/Happy ending. Country: Korea Verdict: Weirdly, this is one of my favourite BL movies, to be honest, most Korean movies just make me happy despite the sense that you can feel it's censored more than it has to be. Either way antique is so fun to watch, at first you're watching about this guy who hates cakes and sweets, but it is determined to start a bakery to find out some weird stalker who is kidnapping kids, and you're like wait what? As we delve deeper into his past, it becomes horrifying, terrifying and also just intriguing to find out what made him the way he is and how it's affected him psychologically. Add a twist of BL with someone who absolutely loves him and helps him with his bakery, and it's cute and lovely to see.

2. Method Ratings: 4/5 Genre/Themes: Psychology, Thriller, Romance, Tragedy, Acting industry, Internalised Homophobia Country: Korea Verdict: Korea is so good at producing these deep movies that really make you think and analyse whilst still having this haunting introduction to couples that are tragically affected by Internalised Homophobia in Korea. Method may seem like just an artistic story about two people who are being fake with each other, and it does seem that way at the end but when you actually look at it deeply you'd see it's a tragic love story about two people who couldn't fight society with their love for each other and decided to use facades to hide what truly happened. Anyway brilliant show, very thrilling and scary at times towards the ending especially about the psychology of Method actors and the struggle to differentiate  what's real vs what's acting when it comes to love and obsession?

Taiwan

History Hero/Obsessed

Ratings: 3.8/5 Genre/Themes: Gender bender, Rebirth, Ghosts,  Death,  Romance, Comedy, Happy ending Country: Taiwan Verdict: History is one of the best anthologies Taiwan produced for BL. And even the first history series are just as good as recent, whilst maybe more low budget and shorter, I still enjoy them as much as the other one. Hero is one that is actually not my most loved one, but it's heartwarming and also interesting to watch. It's a supernatural gender bender, with our main charcter's body taken over by his crush's girlfriend who we watch figure out the budding relationship between her boyfriend and the dead guy. It seems it would be tragic, or end in a heterosexual way but it doesn't, it does have a bitter sweet ending since we're seeing it from her perspective but our BL character's come out unscathed. Obsessed is one of my faves, also a rebirth story, our main character comes back to life and goes back in time after being betrayed by his lover determined to avoid him as much as possible only to realise that his lover is obsessed and determined to get them back together despite not understanding why he loves him. It's so fun to watch this show, and I enjoy the chemistry between Benjamin and Teddy. But yeh Halloween, mysterious deaths, rebirths and romance great times!

Chinese

Rebirth Ratings: 4/5 Genre/Themes: Rebirth, Romance, Historical,  Death, Drama, Royalty, Happy ending Country: Chinese Verdict: Absolutely so stoked with this drama, frustrated with censorship from China which prevented some scenes from being shown like the waterfall kiss, but it has a happy ending! Like what? I'm so happy because it's quite dramatic and has moments where it looks like would be tragic but I adore the romance between the King and his companion, and the way they're both loyal to each other. For Halloween this deals with death and reincarnation of our main character to return back and save the King from getting killed. Go watch it if you can find uncut link so worth it.

Untamed Ratings: 5/5 Genre/Themes: Zombies, Fantasy, Horror,  Romance, Happy ending, Rebirth, Death Country: China Verdict: Like I don't have to explain this one. Go watch it if you haven't. Tbh for Halloween I'm not going to be watching the show Untamed because I've seen it too many times, so I'll probably be crying over Wei Wuxian and Wang Ji's love with the audio drama (Season 3 especially) Whatever way you wanna watch Mo dao Zu shi: anime, book, tv show, audio drama, this is a masterpiece and so incredibly scary enough, supernatural enough and great enough for this Halloween. A masterpiece.

Guardian Ratings: 3.5/5 Genre/Themes: Supernatural, Romance, Rebirth, Horror, ,Bromance, Censored, Comedy, Mystery, Detectives Country: China Verdict: Guardian is so fun to watch but when I think of it's original source I get so upset with China and I just don't want to watch it especially that stupid ending. But for Halloween Guardian is the most Halloween like BL show there is, deals with demons, zombies, ghosts, etc Mysteries about aliens, humans and supernatural deities. And a painful romance that has amazing chemistry, acting and story behind it. Go watch it just for the fun cases the characters have to investigate each episode connected to the supernatural stuff.  Or go read the book and see what it was meant to be like.

Thailand 

Red wine in the Dark night Ratings: 3.5/5 Genre/Themes: Psychology, Thriller, Horror,  R rated, Tragedy, Vampire Country: Thailand Verdict: My first movie introducing me to Fluke and his incredible acting. But like this movie messed me up, I went into it like nice vampire/cute boy romance and halfway through I was like wtf?? It's incredible and dark to see this movie and for Halloween scary enough to contemplate and analyse so yeh a great spooky watch with shady, flawed characters traumatised to make choices to be with love.  Watch it for Fluke.

Blue Hour Ratings: 4/5 Genre/Themes: Psychology, Thriller, Horror,  R rated, Ghosts, Mystery Country: Thailand Verdict: This is another messed up movie with an amazing cast. Both Oab and Gun are like so great in this, and they are my ghost ship. This movie starts of like a romantic with drama BL movie, about like falling in love and meeting the right person and then it just gets twisted and starts to be horrifying. Again has a lot of shady, dark characters who do things that are just so unexpected. It will scare you well and Gun's performance as a winner. But we already know this about him. Go watch Gifted and Gifted Graduation (also spooky in my opinion for Halloween)

My dream Ratings: 3/5 Genre/Themes: Supernatural,  Fantasy, Romance,  Drama Country: Thailand Verdict:  Okay only adding this on the list because of its supernatural genre but I actually don't remember what this is about. All I can remember is the main love story is between Runway and his lover who he sees in his dreams due to a mysterious dream catcher given to him by his family to protect him. Yeh this is fantasy so good for halloween but it's actually not my favourite show, I remember disliking a lot of things about it apart from the second lead couple so yeh Meh. But for Halloween you can squeeze a watch and try and see if you like it.

Until We Meet Again

Ratings: 4.2/5 Genre/Themes:  Reincarnation,  Rebirth, Suicide,  Drama, Death, Romance, Mystery, Happy ending Country: Thailand Verdict:  Can’t believe I almost forgot about this, But this is a great thai BL series, one of the best ones actually if you’re okay with slow paced storyline but with depth, and interesting plot. I love all the couples on this show and it kept me on my toes with anxiety and worry about how it was going to end. Go watch this for Fluke again, as he is so amazing at his role of Pharm. Everyone else on this cast is also my favorite. Reasons for Halloween, this deals with the psychological trauama of death and suicde, and also deals with the consequences of reincarnation. Because of this the psychological breakdown and reveal of Pharm’s connection to Inn, is ver scary, worrying and frightful as you go deeper the story. We’re not sure where this will lead, but we know as an audience that it sure isn’t going to be a nice reunion with Inn and Korn whenever the latter finds the truth about why they’re dead. Yeh towards the last three episodes it’s almost close to being a thriller, so much angst, drama and pain and fear for our character’s lives, will make this a scary but not scary Halloween watch for sure. 

Greater man academy Ratings: 5/5 Genre/Themes: Gender bender, Fantasy, Unicorns  Romance, Competitive all-boys school, Happy ending, Plot twists Country: Thailand Verdict: Can I just praise how genius this series is. Because no one else doing so it's understandable it's hard to find the subs because Nadao refuses to release it on its platform. Either way seeing Nadao mentioned as the producers makes you know this is incredible. From acting, to story telling, to directing, to dynamics, to the romance. I am in awe of greater man academy and I will never stop speaking about how I wish more BLs was like this. Add she's the man (the movie or twelfth night by Shakespeare) and BL tropes to this and you get greater man academy, Except this show is different, 3 dimensional characters that will take your breath away from the amount of plot twists written for their characters, romances that will keep you on your toes with anticipation and mystery and the suprising fact that this ends up as a BL when it didn't need to is what shocks me still to this day. Go watch it I don't want to spoil anything else. Just watch it. For Halloween we have magical unicorns with wish granting abilities, ghosts and other fantasy themes in the academy for the great men.

He's coming to me Ratings: 4.5/5 Genre/Themes: Ghosts, Mystery,Slice of Life,  Romance, Comedy, Happy ending Country: Thailand Verdict:  I've already talked about this show on here as well. But again just go watch it, it's incredible a bit slow paced but it's worth it. I just want more shows like He's coming to me, the whole supernatural world building was fantastic, the mystery, the plot, the love story between our main guy who sees ghost and his ghost best friend, and him learning to embrace his identity and sexuality. Brilliant. Also again Ohm Pawat is in this so are you shocked and Singto as well who is amazing.

The Shipper Ratings: 4/5 Genre/Themes: Death, Gender bender, Mystery,, Tragedy, Comedy, Romance Country: Thailand Verdict: Didn't know if I should add this here but there is a heavy supernatural theme to it, and it does have BL despite the fact that could be questioned but I love Way and Kim, and I think the actors are great and the plot is actually good for most of it, there are some issues with the show but honestly if the ending was better It would be a favourite of mine in 2020. Sigh. Halloween there's death, and the lore surrounding death and mystery about why it and how the circumstances our main character is happened, and it keeps you on your toes. Ohm Pawat that's it another reason and First and Fluke were incredible in this. Girl actresses were also good. And it's directed and written by the writer of the girl from nowehere, so that's another positive. (Must watch for Halloween if you haven't yet not BL)

Other recommendations: Bite fight, Niyamruk, Ghost boyfriend, Ghost Roomamate, Fanatic Love.War of Highschool 

That;s the list I’ve compiled. Probably missing like other spooky ones because I’m a wimp and horror aint my thing, Romance is. So here you have some shows mixing the two in a non squeamish way for me.  What about you guys how’s your Halloween season and planning going? Have fun!

[skeeter-110]

I Dreamt About You Every Night

Tony Stark has been dead for seventeen years due to a mission gone wrong. He’s survived getting blown up, palladium poisoning, terrorist attacks, and even Thanos himself, and he gets killed by - what was supposed to be - a simple day-to-day mission. Or, so everyone thought.

|| Chapter One || || Chapter Two || || Chapter Three || || Chapter Four || || Chapter Five ||

Chapter Six

“Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And if you gaze long enough into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.” - Friedrich Nietzsche

"Okay, so what's the game plan?" Peter asks three hours later when they finally were able to find the old base. When Tony said he had a rough estimate, he really meant a rough estimate. "Tony?" Peter calls out again when the scientist didn't answer him.

Glancing over next to him, Peter saw Tony blankly staring at the base. Very hesitantly, Peter shook Tony's shoulder, not wanting to startle him out of what - Peter was assuming - was a PTSD episode, but also wanting him to come back down to Earth.

"Hey, Tony, snap out of it. It's okay, you're safe. You're not going back here so they can continue to do what they were doing to you." Peter tries to calm, confusion washing over when when Tony began walking towards the base.

"Tony. Hey, Tony, what are you doing?" Peter harshly whispers, trying to get the older man to stop walking away. Making sure his guard was still firmly up, Peter followed Tony into the base, coming to the conclusion that this was no longer PTSD induced and something else was causing this.

Peter soon found him and Tony standing in a wide open room, the door slamming closed behind them. There was only one singular light hanging above them, making it difficult for Peter to look around and see what was around him. The only thing Peter knew for sure was that his spidey-sense were going off the charts, making him feel like they had just fallen into a trap.

"Even after all of these years, it still surprises me how easy it is to control his mind." A man's voice echoes all around them, making Peter turn around in circles in attempt to get even a small glance of who was speaking.

"It also still surprises me how strong your loyalty remained, even with Stark gone." The voice continues. "Maybe the loyalty runs so deep and that's why it was so easy to get into your children's minds. Or it could just be because they're simply that; children."

"Where are they? What have you done with them?" Peter growls, hating the fact that all that seemed to do was amuse whoever the voice belonged to.

"Nothing too life altering, yet. They're mainly just pawns needed for this exchange." The voice says.

"What exchange?" Peter questions, knowing he wasn't going to like the answer to this question.

"Your children's lives, for Starks."

"Show yourself!" Peter shouts, wanting to know who it was exactly that was black mailing him.

Slowly a man began walking out of the shadows, revealing himself. It was the same man from the videos, and even though Peter has seen him a million times before, it was still jarring to see him in person. If Tony wasn't standing there completely blank, Peter was sure he would make another comment about how much this guy truly looked like a vampire.

His skin was a shade of grey that you only saw on the living dead, his eyes glowed red, and his teeth were almost as sharp as a shark's.

"Who are you?" Peter questions, his confusion growing more when all the man - creature? - in front of him scoffed in disbelief. "Doctor Morbius at your service." The man greets, rolling his eyes and continuing when Peter didn't show any kind of recognition. "What, my good pal Doctor Octavius didn't tell you about me? God knows he wouldn't shut up about bringing you down. But, then again, I guess he wasn't around for too long before I got rid of him; he really was useless wasn't he?" The man - Morbius - rambled. "What do you want from us?" Peter asks, hoping to stop Morbius from continuing down whatever messed up trip down memory lane that he was going down. "Isn't it obvious? Look at me! I wasn't supposed to end up like this! I was supposed to be curing the rare blood disease I had, but Octavius had other plans. He made me into this and I want it fixed. I've seen what Stark can do - how he was able to build a new element to save himself - and I will stop at nothing to make sure he does the same for me. Even if that means having  experiments on your son to figure out a cure." Morbius threatens, instantly making Peter see red and blast him to the other side of the room with his taser webs; Peter secretly thanking whatever gave him the idea to make webs strong enough to hold even Steve against a wall.

Apparently, blasting Morbius to the other side of the room broke whatever mind control he had on Tony because the man quickly snapped out of the trance he was in and began frantically looking around the building.

Unfortunate, at the same time, Morbius whistled and called in a bunch of his goons for reinforcement.

"Wha- Pete, what's happening?" Tony asks, instantly fighting the people surrounding him along side Peter.

"Long story short, scary vampire man wants you to stay with him for all of eternity - or at least until you're able to cure him - and we need to figure out a game plan to make sure that doesn't happen." Peter explains, rolling his eyes when he caught a glimpse of the bewildered look Tony was giving him. "Yeah, you kind of missed the whole monologue villains like to give."

"Okay, game plan." Tony huffs, continuing to fight off what felt like hundreds of HYDRA soldiers. "I think I've got an idea." Tony shouts, Peter moving towards Tony as best as he could while simultaneously fighting off all the soldiers.

"You better tell me the plan quick; it feels like they're multiplying by the second." Peter pants as he kicks one of the soldiers clear across the room.

"Right, well, I remember when those vampire movies began coming out, Pepper made me watch them with her, and they said that the best way to kill a vampire was with fire." Tony says, making Peter scoff.

"You can not seriously be comparing this situation to Twilight." Peter snarks, grunting in frustration as they continued to fight.

"You got a better idea?" Tony snaps back.

"Okay and how do you supposed we go through with your plan?" Peter asks on lieu of an answer, shooting another string of webs at Morbius when it looked like he was beginning to break free from the first round of webs.

"I'll distract the cult and their leader while you go out and find the kids. Once you do, get the hell out of here because I'm going to blow it up." Tony tells Peter, making him shake his head in return.

"No, not happening." Peter quickly disagrees.

"Peter, Kid, I need you to work with me on this one." Tony pleads.

"No! Come up with a plan that doesn't involve us splitting up." Peter says, making Tony realize the real reason Peter was being so stubborn about all of this.

"Pete, I know you're worried about what happened the last time happening again but you've got to trust me on this." Tony pleads, although it didn't do much to persuade Peter like he wanted.

"I-I won't. I won't leave you again- I can't leave you again. Tony I can't lose you again, I just can't." Peter practically cries, and in that moment, Peter felt like he was eighteen-years-old again. All of a sudden he was back there, back to the night where he saw his father-figure for the very last time.

"Pete, I understand that us splitting up failed miserably the last time, but I promise it's going to be okay now. You've just got to trust me." Tony says, Peter's breathing picking up as he began to look around the room, realizing how screwed they were currently.

Making a quick split decision, Peter threw his last three taser webs at Morbius, sticking him further against the wall and zapping him. Just like with Tony, Morbius' control on all of the soldiers released, causing all of them to fall down to the ground.

"That'll give you about ten minutes. If you're not outside within that time, I'm coming back in and dragging your ass out myself." Peter sternly says while Tony just pants and stares at him in disbelief and a bit of annoyance.

"You couldn't have done that a bit sooner?" Tony huffs, making Peter roll his eyes.

"Well I couldn't have just wasted all of them. We needed to figure out a plan first." Peter defends. "Now, go!" Peter says before running down a random hall.

He made sure to get far away from the previous room, trying to find a quiet spot so he could use his super hearing and figure out where in the world his kids were.

Peter could faintly hear their voices coming down from one of the halls, booking it as fast as he could down it; only stopping every now and then to see if he could hear their voices again.

Peter soon found himself lost, turning around in circles when he found himself in a hall filled with rooms, half tempted to just start busting through them when he heard a crash coming a bit further down the hall.

Taking that as his hint, Peter began running towards where he heard the crash, quickly coming up to a crossroads. Closing his eyes, Peter tried to block out all the rest of his senses to try and hear better where the kids were.

"Out of all the times for you two to quit being chatterboxes, now is not the time." Peter whispers to himself, smiling when he heard the familiar whines of Ben and Annie arguing.

Peter ran towards the closed door he heard their voices behind, fully ready to scoop both of them up into his arms and never let them go again. Just as Peter was reaching the door, the whole building began to shake beneath him, practically making him fall to his knees.

"Damn, Tony, you couldn't have found a subtler way to tell me to hurry up?" Peter grouses as he regains his footing. Figuring he needed to be as quick as possible, Peter slammed open the door, instantly ducking the limp that came swinging at him.

"Woah, hey, woah! It's me, it's me!" Peter shouts, grabbing Ben's arms which were basically just flailing in Peter's general direction rather than actually throwing punches in defense.

"Dad?" Ben asks in surprise once he gained awareness.

"Yeah, it's me, now we need to go and we need to go fast. So be quick, hop on my back. Annie-May, you can come out now and come here." Peter rapidly says, wrangle his two kids together and making sure he was able to carry both of them out of the building.

"What's happening?" Annie asks once Peter starts booking it down the hall.

"Long story short, the bad guys that took Grandpa Tony wanted him back and so now Grandpa Tony is going to blow up the building." Peter shortly answers, more focused on making sure Annie continued to hold onto his neck since he had to hold onto Ben.

"He's going to blow up the whole building? Why?" Ben questions, shivering slightly once they exited the building and the cold night air hit him.

"Kid, I'm going to teach you a very important life lesson." Peter braces, running a bit further into the filed, really making sure there was a bunch of distance between them and the building. "Never, ever, question your grandfather." Peter says, flopping down on the ground and protectively pulling both of his kids to his chest.

"Really? That's the important life lesson?" Ben chuckles as Annie lets out a bunch of giggles.

"Trust me, it took me a really long time to learn that sometimes you're just better off letting him do whatever it is he's going to do." Peter says before sitting up and looking his children all over.

"Dad, Dad. Dad," Ben stops, continuously pulling away from Peter's curious touches "we're fine." Ben reassures once he manages push Peter away slightly.

"Well I just want to make sure you both-" Peter began to defend himself, the rest of his defense getting cut off by a giant explosion going off in the building. Peter rushed to pull each kid behind him, shielding them from the heat and debris flying everywhere with his body.

Once he was sure the kids were again, Peter whipped around, expecting to see the Iron Man suit flying out of the flames. But instead, he saw nothing. There was nothing but building anxiety and all Peter could do at that moment was scream.

"Tony!"

Tag List: @spideyspeaches​ @lost-lunar-wolf​ @joyful-soul-collector​ @hatakehikari​ @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm​

[therokoko]

“A bad attitude on set is deadly” - Interview with Alex Rider Director and Producer Andreas Prochaska 

Andreas Prochaska on adapting the books, casting Otto Farrant and the challenges of releasing the series in times of Corona

Based on a podcast interview with Austrian news outlet Der Standard titled “Schlechte Laune am Set ist tödlich”. I’ve translated the important bits. 

1. How he came in contact with Alex Rider: 

Well, that was relatively simple. I have an agent in England, and he sent me the script for the first episode as well as an outlook, a kind of series bible about how things were going to proceed, and I read this and thought: “This works for me. That’s something completely different.” 

I mean, especially … you mentioned “Das Boot” earlier, which was the production I worked on before, and which was burdensome in every way, I mean not only because of the time it took but also because of the topic, because we killed, I think, 26 characters in “Das Boot”, not counting extras, and of course that has an effect on you. And then I also filmed “Spuren des Bösen” [Traces of Evil, a German 8 part crime series made between 2010 and 2019, A/N), in which a mother jumps out of a window with her baby, and I was looking for something with a lighter tonality, and something which I hadn’t done before in this particular form, and “Alex Rider” was perfect for that.

I also didn’t know the book series at all. I read it completely unbiased and thought: “This is actually a cool, daring concept – so to speak somewhat exaggeratedly Coming-of-Age meets Jason Bourne....

[This job] was a result of “Das Boot” insofar as someone working for the distributor, Sonar, knew someone at Eleventh Hour – and it’s not just over here that people talk, and when someone says “listen, this guy has done a decent job, take a look” or something, that helps, and in this case it’s probable that the people became aware of me through these contacts.

2. How they approached adapting the books:

Well, it already started with the fact that our series is a mixture of the first book of the book series, namely “Stormbreaker”, and “Point Blanc” – I don’t remember right now whether that’s the second or a later book.

In Stormbreaker, the drama of the protagonist is established with the uncle who dies and the realization that this uncle wasn’t who he appeared to be. Stormbreaker had been made into a feature film which was produced by Harvey Weinstein and for which Anthony Horowitz had written the script, and that was pretty much a lead balloon. And because of that it was relatively clear that everything bad that had happened with that feature film needed to be avoided, namely that everything was totally over the top.

And my job was to [adapt] this material, which actually … I started reading the novel afterwards, and I stopped after 20 pages because I realized that that wasn’t helping me because they are actually books for 12 year olds, or at least Point Blanc is – when I read it I thought: “This is an English, better-quality version of the ‘Knickerbocker Gang’ [a German children’s book series about a group of child detectives, A/N] or something like that”. And the task was to just adapt this material for an older audience and to just draw the characters in a different way emotionally, to draw them in a more realistic way. When you look at the entire season it does occasionally reach into almost absurd spheres, but it was important for me to pave the way for the audience by starting out realistically with a protagonist that could just be the boy next door.

3. How he went about filming a spy series:  

Well, the most important thing for me in every story are the characters and to get as close to them as possible. I developed a sympathy for this unwilling hero quite quickly. And, as I said, I tried to make the surroundings as British as possible given my Austrian view of things, and to draw a character that you believe and for whom failure is always a possibility, because I find it incredibly boring when you have these superheroes and you already know that they are never in any real danger.

And this was very important to me also in working with Otto Farrant, who plays Alex, to guide him and direct him in such a way that you get the feeling that it’s possible for things to not turn out well, so that you go on this journey with him emotionally, and as to the rest it is … I don’t approach things mathematically. It’s not as if I feel: “Ok, in minute 10 this particular thing must happen, and in minute 20 this thing must happen.” For me, every story is a journey, and you try to make these journeys as good as possible following your instincts.

Like, for instance, the opening scene. In the script the villain was sitting on a roof manipulating some things on his laptop. And then the thing that happens with the man happens – I don’t want to spoil anything, because it’s actually a pretty nice surprise – and this was only 2 thin pages, and I thought: “Actually, to start this series off in an epic fashion, I’d rather like to introduce another character here, too, to charge this scene as much as possible so that you’re just drawn into this world.” And equally in episode two, that’s so to speak the episode of the test, where he has to pass the test designed to show whether he’s suited for this mission, and the script called for a hut in the woods and a road in which things happen, and I thought: “Ok, if we are dealing with a secret service, the military is not that far off.” And so I told the location scout to look for abandoned military bases, and we ended up on a former nuclear weapons base somewhere in the South of England, which made the producer sweat quite a bit because this was a relatively complex location compared to what had been in the script. But those are the things where I, as a director, can try to create visual appeal for a global audience. The series has been sold to a hundred countries, which comes with certain expectations, and of course you don’t want to disappoint these expectations.

4. On the circumstances of the release and viewer reactions: 

It came out in England in the beginning of June, which is sad, of course, because we had planned to have a premiere celebration at some festival, which wasn’t possible because of the current situation. And so this release on Amazon almost felt a little stepmotherly. So I just refreshed the link on Amazon.uk again and again to see how the people reacted to it, and there were actually many very positive reviews in a relatively short time. I think we are at 4.6 out of 5 stars at the moment, whatever that means, …

There are of course, again, total haters who only give one star and say: “What a bunch of crap.” But the majority of people seem to really like it. So hopefully, or it seems we have managed, at least in England, to … that the fans who read it as children watch it, so to speak, in retrospective joy and that they remember the times in which they read it, and still [feel like the series] adds something new.  

5. On the casting process: 

There was … even before I came on board, they made an England-wide, i.e. Britain-wide casting call. And in England, there are quite a lot of youth theatre projects, which were also contacted. And we received, I think, more than 3000 e-castings, which were screened beforehand. I still saw about 200 e-castings, and then this number was reduced bit by bit. In the end there were 3 people left in the room, one boy was from Game of Thrones, another one was very young – barely over 16, which would have been difficult -, and then, to be honest, there was only Otto. On the one hand, that was surprising because you think that there are loads of great actors in England, that it would be difficult to find the right hero, but in the end it was just very clear. It was an interesting casting situation: there was Anthony Horowitz, then there were the two executive producers from Eleventh Hour, then there was Wayne Garvey from Sony International Co-Productions, and also a casting agent from Sony America, and they all sat behind me like an assembly, and I just took the camera and worked with the actors and just tried to ignore the audience – I also felt like I was being cast again as well in my work with the actors, but … it was, yeah, it was very interesting and exciting.

I virtually grilled him for hours, tried again and again to draw the different scenes in different temperatures and with different emotions out of him, just to see what his range is and how much I would be able to work with him later on in terms of fine-tuning. Because carrying 8 episodes is an extreme challenge for a young actor, and it doesn’t help me if the boy is just dashing and then he carries only half an episode and then breaks apart. That is why it was so important to really test him thoroughly, also in combination with Brenock, who plays his best friend - we tried different combinations – and with Ronke, who plays his confidante in the household, just to try and find the right chemistry. And that was a very exciting and very satisfying process. What was really great was, when he had those three, there wasn’t any discussion anymore at all, we all agreed – I mean it would have been equally possible for Anthony to favour someone else or for Sony to like somebody else better, but it was really incredibly harmonious and unanimous.

6: On what made Otto Farrant stand out: 

Well, it was his perseverance. I mean, really, we had one scene which we really tried in 10 or 15 variations, and every time I felt that he understood where I wanted to go. To direct often means to change the temperature of a scene using only short adjectives, and for that you need someone who understands you and who can also implement that. And I just saw that he doesn’t give up that he really has stamina, and that was essentially – apart from the fact that he really comes across as incredibly natural and likeable – the deciding factor for me in the end.

7: On the responsibility of making Alex Rider and the first weeks on set: 

Well, I mean the … Alex Rider is, I mean to English fans, a promise like James Bond, on a different level. And you need someone who – and of course you need that with every film and with every series – you need an actor who touches the people emotionally, to whom they can connect. That is, of course, something you can’t … beforehand … I mean, of course you can, as we did, try everything out during the casting process, but you only know whether it really works out after a week of shooting.

And I really – especially in the first 3-4 weeks, in which I was still searching, too – I mean with every production you start on the first day of shooting and you want to throw away all the material you shot on the first day right away and start over on the next day – but he was searching, I was searching, and in a way I became – it sounds a little exaggerated right now – I became a little bit of a surrogate father during that time, because I noticed that he needed a certain type of attention and a certain security that only I as the director could give him. That is, he could come to me with every problem and with every decision concerning the character, and that worked out really well …

8. On the challenge of “carrying” a series as a lead: 

As for the “carrying”: on the one hand he has to, so to speak, function technically, i.e. he must be able to, so to speak, deliver every scene, i.e. to know the dialog, to have the right energy, and do that over the course of months - now, luckily, Otto is 21; I don’t think that would have worked with a 16 year old. And that meant that while we were shooting Otto had to read the other four scripts, which were still being written while we were shooting, and he had to comment on them and to learn them by heart, and the transition was seamless. I had to interrupt my shooting schedule for two weeks because we had a location that was only available at a specific time, and so I left the set and flew to Austria to start the cutting process, and on the next day the other director came in and just kept working with him. That means Otto had to adapt to the other director, and that’s a challenge for every actor, but especially for a young actor. ...

I [as a director] could only keep it together up to a certain point in time, until my episodes where done shooting. [...] And of course, when the lead actor is in a bad mood when he comes to the set in the morning, that is at least as bad as when I come to the set in a bad mood. That emanates in all directions. So the strength of character of someone, who also knows … I mean, he doesn’t know yet about the power he may have in the second or third season, when he maybe becomes executive producer or I don’t know … but [it’s important] that you, as a human being, just treat everyone with respect in such an environment.

Source: Der Standard AT 

[judgmentofcorruption]

Episode 10–The Court Ends; Scene 7

Judgment of Corruption, pages 303-316

It was thought that the revolts would quickly be suppressed by the release of the military.

But on the contrary, it was here that something unexpected occurred for the government. A portion of USE allied forces that they deployed defected to the side of the militia.

The former soldier Gammon likely laid the groundwork for that in advance.

Due to this, the fight spread to one of much larger scale, until what had at first been a simple uprising began to take on the look of a full-fledged civil war.

On August 10th, the Dark Star Bureau was attacked by the militia.

The allied forces and the soldiers of PN put up a fight, but they were at a loss against the militia’s strength of numbers, and in just eighteen hours the Dark Star Bureau fell into the militia’s hands.

The next day, reports surfaced that the chief of PN, Bruno Zero, had been captured by the militia.

.

Gallerian had somehow managed to escape from the militia’s clutches, and slipped out of the bureau.

He used a secret passageway hidden in the back of his fireplace—a device that had been used for the princess to escape from the palace in the “Daughter of Evil” story. The same thing had been put in the Dark Star Bureau.

While avoiding the public eye, Gallerian headed for his estate.

He was sure he had at least some final strength left to him for battle.

“Eater! Where are you!?”

Gallerian cried out the name of the one who controlled his dead soldiers—the “dead god”.

But there was no reply.

He couldn’t find that large frame anywhere in either the house or the gardens.

“…Maybe he ran away.”

The other dead god Lich must have still been with Ma in “Evils Theater” in Elphegort.    

--Gallerian no longer had anyone left here he could count on as an ally.

He was the militia’s target. He had provoked too greatly the people’s animosity with his many corrupted judgments.

Gallerian knew that it would be dangerous to stay in his own home. He outfitted himself appropriately and then immediately moved to leave the mansion.

But once he saw what was outside his window, he halted.

“…I’m already surrounded…It’s too late.”

At that moment, running out there would be fatal. He turned on his heel and returned to the study, sitting down in his favorite chair.

And then, though I don’t know why, he switched on the radio that was sitting on his desk.

“—Breaking news. The corpse of Major General Tony Ausdin of the USE allied forces was recently discovered in the garden of his home. There were several wounds on his body, but the one thought to be the killing blow is a .44 calibre revolver bullet that was fired into his temple. General Tony was declared innocent in a trial held—”

After listening that far, he shut off the radio.

Then he noticed a smoking pipe that had been left next to the radio.

Something Ma had forgotten.

Gallerian picked it up and lit it.

Right after he put it to his mouth and sucked in the smoke,

“Cough”

He vigorously started hacking, and immediately set the pipe back down on the desk, putting it out.

“…Not my thing.”

He stood and this time passed his eyes over the bookcase next to him.

His eyes rested on the third shelf, whereon seven thin volumes that looked hand-written were lined up.

Other things Ma had forgotten.

The titles to each were written in small print on the spines.

.

The Lunacy of Duke Venomania

Evil Food Eater Conchita

The Daughter of Evil

Gift from the Princess Who Brought Sleep

The Tailor of Enbizaka

.

The remaining two works didn’t have titles written on them.

These were screenplays that were based on tales Ma had gathered on the seven Vessels of Deadly Sin.

“The Vessels of Deadly Sin…I’d been so close. I was—almost about to save Michelle.”

He took one of the screenplays in hand.

Then he sat back down in his chair.

“Michelle…Papa wasn’t able to save you. But at the very least, you must keep living. Where no one can find you, in that theater in the forest—”

After murmuring that, Gallerian leisurely opened the book and started to read.

.

The Dark Star Bureau had already fallen.

He no longer had any friends or colleagues.

The money that he had saved up was now worthless to him.

Having lost everything, this isolated man waited in his mansion for that moment.

As he read.

That moment when the enraged militiamen would break into his home.

.

“…They haven’t come in.”

Gallerian closed the book and put it on his desk.

He stood and then peered out his study window.

Just like before, the militia soldiers were surrounding the mansion.

“Why haven’t they advanced?”

There was no one in the mansion anymore to answer his question.

--Or at least, they shouldn’t have been.

“They’re waiting.”

Gallerian turned around in surprise at the voice he heard behind him.

Standing there��was a blue-haired man who looked similar to…or rather, exactly like Gallerian.

“They’re waiting for her to arrive. The person who would be most appropriate for killing you.”

“Who…are you?”

They were two Gallerians, facing each other.

“Who am I? What cruel words. Don’t you know this face better than anyone?”

“Ah…You are me. …No, that’s ridiculous. I can’t be standing in front of myself—”

“But it’s the truth. I am you, and you are me.”

The other Gallerian laughed mockingly.

--But I knew, watching from the side.

It was a terrible joke. He…though he may be identical in form—

He was not Gallerian.

Gallerian himself appeared to realize this.

“I see, you—are ‘Adam’. The being in the spoon.” So saying, Gallerian pulled out the spoon that he always kept on his person. “It was through contracting with you that I became able to speak to Michelle.”

“Correct. It is by my power that you were able to converse with the soul that resides inside the doll.”

“Michelle…lost her body in that incident. But her spirit lived on, and rests inside the doll. If I were to gather the ‘Vessels of Deadly Sin’, I could restore my daughter’s body to her once more—it is believing in that that has brought me this far.”

“But you failed. Before you could finish collecting them all--here you are in this sorry state. Why could you not notice sooner that your own sin would ruin you one of these days?”

As the two of them spoke to each other with their identical faces, I lost track of who was who.

Gallerian—no, Adam, started to laugh as though to make fun of the other.

”Keh heh heh.  I’m disappointed in you. –Even with mine and ‘Eve’’s power you failed to gather the vessels, in the end.”

“And ‘Eve’ is?”

“The soul that resides in the doll—You thought that was your daughter, didn’t you? That crafty Ma had you completely fooled. But you’re mistaken. It’s Eve’s soul. Eve and I are fated to be attracted to each other…It’s for that reason that I can converse with her soul.”

“…No. That’s Michelle.”

“That’s what you want to believe, isn’t it? Your mind would be broken if you didn’t. It’s because you know how severe your own weakness is that you’ve clung so heavily to Eve’s soul and the Vessels of Deadly Sin. You’ve continued to accumulate money for an impossible wish. Ordinarily the ‘Marlon Spoon’ houses the demon of ‘Greed’—but whatever the case might have been, you had no need of that. Even without contracting with it, from the very start you’ve been a man greedy for what’s beyond his lot.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Keep saying that. –It is true that once you gather all the Vessels of Deadly Sin, a wish will be granted. But that wish is mine and Eve’s. Once all are assembled, Eve and I will have a second advent. We will recreate this broken-down world. And then we will enjoy eternal happiness in our true Utopia—”

“You’re wrong!” Gallerian cried in rage, moving to knock the other man against the wall.

But his hand passed right through Adam’s body.

“You certainly are obstinate. –Very well. How about I have the very woman herself come here? I’ll call the doll here now…and then we’ll ask her directly whether her soul is that of ‘Eve’ or ‘Michelle’.”

“Can you…do that?”

“I can. Didn’t Ma tell you? I have the power to weaken the repulsion effect of the Vessels of Deadly Sin. Naturally, this isn’t normally a power I can actively use, myself. The power is endowed to the person that I contract with. …However. During my long years of wandering the world, I made my own studies. As long as I am in the middle of contracting with someone, I can receive the benefits of this power. And if I use it skillfully enough—”

“—No, hold on. This place is surrounded by the militia right now. Don’t call her here under these conditions!”

Gallerian tried to stop him, but it apparently fell on deaf ears.

“Now then—come here, Eve!”

.

--There was no severe change or anything like that.

There was no sound, no flash of light.

She just appeared there beside Gallerian and Adam.

Bizarrely, as she sat in her wheelchair, she was no longer a small doll.

She was the same size as a person—as though she were a living human being.

Even I couldn’t tell if that was reality, or else some illusion that Adam was displaying.

--Well, that’s only natural. I am just a bat, after all.

“Eve!”

“Michelle…”

The two of them both spoke up to the doll at the same time.

When they did, the doll’s eyes quietly opened.

Those calm blue-green eyes looked at the two of them.

“…There’s two of you, Papa?”

The doll inclined its head curiously.

“I’m not your Papa. It’s me, Eve—It’s Adam. Your husband.”

Adam sprang towards the doll.

“No. You’re Michelle, aren’t you? Papa’s beloved daughter.”

Undaunted, Gallerian approached the doll.

The doll compared both of their faces for a short time, but eventually she suddenly faced Gallerian and said, “Papa. I want to see outside.”

“…O-of course. Right away…”

Despite appearing confused, Gallerian went to move the wheelchair so that the doll was facing the window to the outside.

“Who are those people out there?”

“…They’re militia. A revolt—a war has broken out in this country. They’re angry with me, and are all leading an assault on this place.”

“That’s terrible! You haven’t done anything wrong, Papa!”

“No…I—”

“It’s alright, Papa. I—will protect you.”

The color of the doll’s eyes seemed to faintly change.

And immediately afterward—

“AAAAAUGH!”

Screams became audible from outside the window.

One of the militia-men was writhing, blue flames billowing up from his body.

“Did…you do that, Michelle?”

“Don’t worry. That fire only burns people, so it won’t catch on the trees in the garden, or the house.”

One by one, the militia solders burst into flame. They didn’t seem to have any idea what was happening. They tried to put out the fire on their comrades even as they flew into a panic.

The doll said happily to Gallerian, “Everyone at the theater tells me this: ‘You and us are one and the same’. –But they’re wrong. ‘Cause I have this incredible power I can use.”

Gallerian was speechless.

And behind him, Adam was trembling all over.

“What…is that power. Eve…can’t…do that. Who the hell—are you!?”

The doll replied to that question, as though it were perfectly normal, “I am—Papa’s daughter. No more, no less.”

“…Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuah…” Then Adam suddenly started to wail pitifully, “Ma, you bitch! You fucking set me up! This isn’t Eve. This is—AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGH!”

Gallerian gazed upon this scene with a cool expression.

“Have you broken, Adam?”

“Ha ha ha! Satisfied? Are you satisfied, now that you’ve beaten me, Gallerian!? But! You’re mistaken! We’ve both lost! We were both deceived! Not just with the doll. There’s a secret that woman didn’t tell you! –Did you think Bruno was your friend? Then I pity you. Even he lied to you. He figured that secret out but he didn’t tell you!”

“What are you saying? I don’t at all get what you’re—That’s enough now, isn’t it Adam? Send Michelle back to the forest where she was.”

“NO! My contract with you is now over! I’m going back to the forest alone—And you two can stay here and burn away in this house together! HA HA HA!”

And with those as his parting words, Adam disappeared with a pop.

.

The only ones left were Gallerian, and—

An ordinary doll, no longer able to move.

With Adam gone, and the contract between him and Gallerian broken—it was now powerless.

<<prev------directory------next>>

[youbloodymadgenius]

The Viking King and the Pancakes (Ivar x reader)

A/N: Modern AU but not exactly Modern!Ivar, you’ll see. 

This is not the second part of Pancakes in Bed again? But if you haven't read it, it would be better to read it first. Here 

Thanks to @inforapound​, without whom I couldn’t do anything 💖 And thanks to @ivaraddict​ for this precious gif 💖

Summary: the reader wakes up and finds out that she is not alone in bed. When she realizes who is lying next to her, the shock is even greater. 

Warnings: None besides my wacky ideas ; shaggy dog story. Ah yes, swearings too. 

Words: 2136

Lazily opening your eyes, you startle when the sound of snoring wakes you completely.

Snoring?? How could this be?? You have been sleeping alone for… for… weeks? Months? So long that you actually aren’t sure… It could even be years…  

Immediately you are wide awake and screaming as you realize that a man is lying next to you. In your bed! Under your sheets! A wave of panic hits you. What did you do last night? Had you been drinking? Eating mushrooms?

Where did he come from? How did he get there? And more importantly, who is he?? And… did you have…? Oh, no, no, no, no! Looking under the sheets, you see that you are still wearing your pajamas. Phew!!

Releasing a loud sigh of relief, you hear the stranger growl as he shifts in the bed. Looking at him carefully, you are frightened – there's a man you don't know anything about in your bed! – and also fascinated – from what you can see, his muscles are… impressive…

It's highly inappropriate, but you are drooling.

Move a little more so I can see your face, you urge him silently.

It worked! Rolling onto his side, the man slowly faces you and…

FUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!!

"By the gods, who are you?"

From his thick accent you know he's not fluent in English. But you still understand. Which is good, as your knowledge of Old Norse is limited to "Du kan ikke drepe meg!" Although, thinking about it, telling him he can't kill you might not be totally stupid.

"I..I.." You pathetically babble. Fuck. Fuck! You must be dreaming, right? You pinch your arm, bite the inside of your cheek and end up slapping yourself in front of a dumbfounded Iv… No! It can't be him! It can? Noooo! Fuck, even after five slaps, he's still there.

"I'm Y/N," you finally say and are rewarded with a puzzled look.

"Strange name."

A man of few words, no doubt about it. Rolling your eyes, you sigh. Maybe you like it better when he doesn't say anything.

"And you?" Your question is somehow rhetorical as you already know who he is. But you need to hear it, clearly, from him.

"Ivar the Boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok and Aslaug Sigurdsdottir, king of Kattegat and leader of the great heathen army."

It sounds like he's reciting his service record.

Wow, wow, wow! The guy is slightly showing off, isn't he? You'd like to put him down and hesitate to remind him that unless you're mistaken, Bjorn overthrew him and he's not really king anymore. But it doesn't seem particularly wise, so you choose to keep quiet.

Not him.

"Are you my new slave? A gift from Ubbe, my silly brother, as a sign of his repentance and total allegiance?"

A slave??? You are in my fucking house, man!! And in my bed!!!

Six months later

You hurry up, eager to get home, looking forward to finding your man, Ivar the Boneless; the ruthless king. The bloodthirsty, fierce, cruel Viking. Your lover. Your Ivar.

Pushing back the door with your foot, you hastily lock it behind.

"Ivar?"

Not getting an answer, you put down your bag and take off your shoes before walking through the apartment. Putting your phone on the kitchen table, you inhale deeply, enjoying the delicious smell of a lamb stew that has certainly been simmering for hours.

Eventually, you find your great warrior asleep on the couch, the old wheelchair you unearthed in a second-hand shop right next to him. Smiling, you take your time, admiring his features. His facial structure, so perfect. He's astonishing, breathtaking. Painfully handsome.

He belongs perfectly in your living room and simultaneously seems completely out of place. You can't help but smile seeing the contrast of his hairstyle – "Never without my braids, woman!" – and his outfit, sweatpants and white T-shirt.

"Hi, my love!" Blinking, he almost purrs as you kiss his forehead.

Using his powerful arms to draw you close, he flashes you a broad grin as you carefully straddle him. With modern drugs working wonders, you taught him to rate his pain on a scale of one to ten and he's rarely over two. Yet, you haven't found a way to prevent him from breaking a bone at the drop of a hat.

"My queen!"

Your laughter fills the room. No matter how much you tell him you are not the queen of anything, he seems hell-bent on it so you let him, amused and surely flattered to be loved by a real king.

"Dinner is almost ready." You shiver as he kisses your temple, your cheek and eventually your neck. "And then…,” his voice is suddenly hoarse, "… you and I will make love."

Six months earlier

"Tell me again??"

The frightening Viking glares at you, threateningly, driving your heart rate crazy. Fortunately, you confirmed he came unarmed in your bed and then you took care, before inviting him to sit at the kitchen table, to lock up all the knives and sharp or pointed tools.

"I say…,” ashamed, you know you're blushing, "… that I have called the gods, yours as well as the Christian god."

"And for what purpose?" His piercing blue eyes are scanning you, his features harsh.

"I….” Your voice is shaky. "I have already told you."

Before you realize what's going on, his hand is on your throat, and he's squeezing. The little bastard!

"I said," he roars, "For. What. Purpose?"

Freaking out, it's hard for you to breathe and you can hardly speak, your face red, your eyes bulging and begging him for air.

His eyes demanding an answer, he barely releases his grip. You're sure he won't hesitate to strangle you if you don't say anything.

"I have… I begged the gods because I wanted… I wanted you in… my bed… Well, not you…" Suddenly your words are rushing out. "I wanted the other Ivar, the Ivar of the TV show, this TV show that you don't know but in which you play the lead role. And yes, I'm aware that you don't know what a TV show is, I'll explain later, but that's it, it's you I wanted, that's why I called the gods and I don't know why but apparently it seems they heard me."

Ivar's hand doesn't move but he doesn't squeeze anymore, allowing you to breathe freely. You can see a slight change in his eyes, and his face softens.

"You… You wanted me in your bed? …..Why?"

Suddenly, there's no longer a frightening warrior in front of you but the terrified little boy from the eleventh episode of season four. His huge, wide eyes screaming all his insecurities. You are dying to tell him that Margrethe is nothing more than a stupid girl who did everything wrong. After all, you'd only be telling the truth!

But because he's unpredictable and because you don't know him well, you choose to say something more simple. "Because you are extremely attractive.”

Pleased by your words, he puffs his chest, flashing you a cocky grin. "And what did you want to do in bed with me?"

His rapid mood swings are fascinating, even more impressive in real life than on TV. Weighing the pros and cons, you eventually decide to be honest. "I wanted to have sex with you.”

Six months later

"I'll take care of everything, just go chill."

Nodding gratefully, you watch Ivar, who's setting the table while stirring the stew and keeping an eye on the cooking pasta. Smiling, you can't help but assess the progress made.  

In six months, Ivar had become a perfect househusband.

Neither you nor he were able to explain by what miracle, sorry, by what magic, the word miracle made your proud pagan throw up, had him get there. But you didn't complain.

Neither did he – he who confessed that the last thing he remembered was fleeing Kattegat, alone, abandoned by all, hiding in the back of a stinking cattle cart.

Of course, you had to teach him everything and at first, it hadn't been easy. But he quickly got his bearings, at least in your apartment. Outside was harder. He was afraid of everything. Too much noise, too many colors, too many stimuli all the time.

That's why he spent most of his time inside. Running errands was terribly worrisome for him. Eating out too. At most, you forced him to go out sometimes late at night to get fresh air, and three weeks ago you managed to take him to the mountains. He loved it.

On a daily basis, you two didn't get out much, but you didn't mind. In your home, your cocoon, you were able to forget more and more that Ivar was more than a thousand years old. Forget that he was a character from history books as well as one of your favorite TV show. And the fucking fictive guy you've been fantasizing about for months!

He had adapted quickly enough to modern technologies, had discovered running water with delight and had been fascinated, almost mesmerized, by the Internet. It was so he could use it, he asked you to teach him how to read.

Learning in record time, you realized that the show had some truth: Ivar was certainly a brilliant and intelligent person.

Since he could read, he'd devoured every book he could find. He read all your books, even burning one that described the point of view of a Saxon monk during the Lindisfarne raid. The best thing about this interest was that he was always looking for new recipes on the web. "Helga would have been crazy with such a tool!", he told you after explaining that it was Floki's wife who had secretly taught him how to cook.

"Take your seat, my queen.”

Wheeling towards you, Ivar hands you a glass of wine. "For you." You thank him and then you both raise your glasses before clinking them. "Enjoy your meal!"

Bringing your fork to your mouth – Ivar, your stubborn Viking, still eats everything with a spoon – your eyes shoot wide as you let the flavors spread through your mouth. Once again, his meal is excellent, a true feast for the palate.

"Ivar!" Talking with a full mouth, you're slightly ashamed but know he won't hold it against you. "It's simply a pure wonder! Exquisite and perfect!"

Smiling proudly, your Viking king is sincerely happy. He doesn't need much. What he told to that bitch Freydis was the truth: all he wanted was to be loved. And in truth, he doesn't care about being king. For the first time in his life, he can be himself. With you. And that's enough for him.

"I'm glad you like it." Waving his spoon in front of you, he furrows his brows. "Are you working tomorrow?"

You can't hide the small smile curling the corner of your mouth up.  Ivar still has trouble with some concepts. "No, my love, tomorrow is Sunday. I never work on Sundays." Seeing that his face lights up, you know he has an idea in mind. "Why?"

"Nothing… I was just thinking… I could try to prepare… pancakes. And we could eat them in bed."

You are sure you've never mentioned pancakes and wonder when he heard about them. But whatever, you're in. "That's a great idea! I'm sure you'll do well."

Now, Ivar's biting his lower lip suggestively and you wonder what he’s up to.

Putting his spoon on the edge of his plate, he wheels towards you. "I'll prepare toast, eggs, and bacon too."

You can't help but feel aroused by his hoarse voice, even if it's ridiculous. Who would have thought that breakfast could be a turn on?

Wait. Wait. Fucking wait. Pancakes. Toast. Eggs. Bacon. Seriously???

"Why?!" You startle, slightly distressed. "I mean, what are you talking about? Why are you talking about that? Why do… Why do you want to eat that tomorrow? I mean, exactly that?" You know you're pathetic, but Ivar only smiles at you lovingly.

"Because I want to.” Stroking your breast, he leans forward and his mouth meet yours, giving you shivers. "And once I've eaten all this…,” backing up just enough to look you in the eye, his hand brushes your crotch, making you shutter, "… I'll enjoy my dessert."

Standing, you take a few steps back, panic setting in while you try to put the puzzle together. Your heartbeat becomes frantic when you eventually understand what it means. What he means.

"Ivar… You…?" Blushing, a lump forms in your throat, you can’t speak anymore.

Nodding at you, again and again, a broad smile on his face and his gaze almost naughty, he’s obviously having fun. Fucking pompous asshole!

"Yes, my queen. I found your Tumblr blog. And I read your fanfictions."

OH!! FUUUUUUUUUCK!!!

🛡⚔️🛡

@waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @lisinfleur​ @honestsycrets​ @gearhead66​

[morbid-mary]

What a Furry Ride

Chapter 9 Set in Episode 9

Authors Note: Hello lovelies! For some reason this chapter magically disappeared from my blog. Thankfully I had a copy saved to my laptop! One more thing, I do not speak Spanish so I used a translator for a bit of the dialog when I was writing this so if it is incorrect I am sorry.

~~ 🌻~~

There’s an old factory a few miles from the high school. The abandoned stretch of buildings and equipment looked all dark and deserted in the late hours of the evening. The silent emptiness created an atmosphere of peaceful solitude among the lonely buildings. The peaceful atmosphere was shattered by several patrol cars chasing the alleged murder suspect, Derek Hale, through the facility. Sirens wail and tires screech against the pavement as the patrol cars swerve around the tight corners.

Derek runs as fast as he can up a dark straight away. His heart hammers in his chest as the adrenaline pumps through his entire body. He glances over his shoulder seeing the patrol car catching up to him. The fear rising in his chest was starting to take hold as he desperately tries to stay ahead of the cops. He can easily scale the side of the building next to him and be out of this mess in a heartbeat. He can’t risk that. The patrol car is too close he might get hit. All he can do was run.

The thin straight away opens into a junction between three buildings. Derek decides to stay straight, and he books it down the ramp. Christopher Argent’s SUV comes to a screeching stop, blocking Derek’s path. Derek’s heart practically jumps into his throat as he drops onto the concrete, sliding to a stop. He scraped up his hands and all down his side, probably earning a couple bruises from hitting the ground, but there was no time. Derek groans and scrambles to his feet, taking off into one of the dark buildings. “He’s on foot, he just ran into the iron-works” Chris says into his phone.

Kate is in her Kia chasing Derek’s Camaro around the tracks by the facility. “W-w-wait, did you say on foot?!”

“Yeah, into the iron-works”

“Running?!”

“Yes, running” Chris hangs up.

“If he’s on foot then who’s driving his car?!” Kate asks herself.

Dani is behind the wheel of the camaro with Stiles in the passenger seat and Scott in the back. The adrenaline of the moment coursing rapidly through the entire car keeps everyone on edge. Dani jerks the wheel of the camaro, skidding around a corner. “Is she gaining?” Dani asks.

Scott looks through the back window at Kate’s car. He watches her skid around the same corner they came around a few seconds before, staying hot on their tail. “Not really, but she’s still on us!” Scott says. Scott is scared out of his mind. His heart is pounding, his hands are sweaty, it’s starting to remind him of how he felt on his first full moon.

Dani hits a straightaway and shifts gears, flooring it.

“Wha-ha-ho!” Stiles hollers.

Dani smiles as the camaro quickly accelerates down the straightaway. “Alright, find me a hole Stiles.”

Stiles sits forward scanning the left side of the straightaway to find an escape from Kate.

Dani pats the wheel and glances in the rear-view mirror again. “Come on baby” Dani mumbles to the car.

“Here, here!” Stiles points at a small opening between two buildings.

Fear twists in Dani’s stomach, knowing this is going to be a tight squeeze. “Hold on to something!” Dani slams on the breaks and jerks the wheel, throwing the boys against the right side of the car. The tires and the passengers scream as the camaro just barely makes the sharp turn, shooting straight between two of the large buildings.

Kate shoots past the opening, missing them. “Shit!” she curses.

The walls are maybe inches from the sides of the camaro. Dani stays on the accelerator making tiny corrections on the wheel. One wrong move and the camaro slams into the wall which will most likely flip the car, killing all three of them.

“DANI!” Scott shrieks from the back seat while Stiles scrambles up the back of the seat.

Dani’s body is ridged as she grips the wheel. “Not the paint, not the paint, not the paint” Dani says repeatedly, watching the opening between both buildings get closer and closer. All three of them scream as they fly out of the small gap. Dani slams on the breaks, jerking the wheel to the side, just barely missing a large piece of machinery and the car comes to a screeching stop.

Silence falls over the three of them. Scott’s ears are filled with the rapid thumping of three heartbeats inside the car. All of them breathing heavily and slightly shaking from the adrenaline coursing through them. Dani stares straight ahead at nothing, her eyes bulging. A smile slowly spreads across Stiles’ face as he looks at Dani then back at Scott.

“That. Was. AWESOME!” Stiles shouts.

Scott smiles and starts cheering with Stiles.

Dani closes her eyes and says, “I love this car.” The boys laugh.

“That was like Fast and Furious the way you were turning the corners!” Stiles says. “Tokyo drift playing in the background.”

Dani lets go of the wheel, her elbows popping as she bends them.

“Oh my God” Stiles scoffs.

“You were gripping the wheel that hard!” Scott laughs.

Dani holds her arms still as she busts out laughing with her boys.

Back at the other end of the facility, the cops have corralled around the main entrance to the building Derek ran into. “Get the dogs!” the sheriff calls. Two deputies step up to the entrance, gripping the harnesses of two german shepherds in the K-9 unit. They release the dogs and they take off into the building. They round the corner catching up to Derek, barking viciously as they chase after him. Derek turns around and growls at the two dogs, bearing his teeth and his eyes glow blue. The dogs scramble out of the building, whining with their tails between their legs.

“What the hell?” Sheriff Stilinski says.

Dani has the camaro parked in a dark hole in the wall to remain hidden. For all she knows, Kate and Mr. Argent are still out there looking for Derek’s car and whoever’s in it, which means them. They sit quietly and listen to Stiles’ police scanner, waiting patiently to hear something about Derek’s location. Dani chews the inside of her lip nervously.

“You good?” Stiles asks. Dani shrugs.

“I’m just worried about him” she admits.  

“All units, suspect is on foot heading into the iron-works” Stiles and Scott glance at each other. That’s not good. Derek could only run so far before he’d get cornered. They’d have to go get him if Derek was going to make it out of there. Dani cranks the engine and floors it, heading for Derek’s location.

Derek walks around a large piece of machinery, glancing behind him to make sure no one was following him. An arrow lands right next to him, the head releasing a bright flash, blinding Derek. He ducks down, blinking his eyes repeatedly as his white vision slowly focuses. He looks up as his vision clears, finding Christopher Argent pointing a crossbow at him. He fires off two more arrows, chasing Derek around the machine.

Derek flattens against the opposite side of the machine. He was out of breath, his mouth was dry, and he was sweating like crazy. There was no way he could run for it without getting hit. With impeccable timing, the camaro pulls into the iron-works building, coming to a screeching stop about ten feet from Derek. He looks up and his eyes widen. Who’s driving the car?

Stiles opens the passenger door. “Get in!” he calls and climbs into the back seat.

Derek glances up at Chris who was reloading and bolts toward the car. Chris drops the crossbow, pulling out a machine gun and shoots at the Camaro as it speeds off into the dark.

Dani carefully chose a series of backroads instead of main roads back to town to avoid any run ins with the cops.

“What part of ‘lay low’ do you not understand?” Scott asks as they speed down a curvy back road.

“DAMNIT, I HAD HIM!” Derek shouts, hitting the door.

Dani glances over Derek and sighs.

Stiles leans forward, in between the seats. “Who the alpha?” he asks.

“YES!” Derek shouts.

Dani lays her hand on Derek’s arm. “Easy tiger” she says, slowing down for a stop sign.

Derek looks over at her and takes in a deep breath, relaxing slightly. “He was right in front of me and the freakin police showed up!” He says. Derek still felt so high strung with the anger and adrenalin coursing through him. He probably wouldn’t settle down for a while.

Dani stays parked at the stop sign.

“Hey, they’re just doing their jobs” Stiles points out.

If looks could kill, Stiles would be laid out in the backseat right now. Stiles swallows hard as Derek glares at him. “Yeah, thanks to someone who decided to make me the most wanted fugitive in the entire state!” Derek says, throwing it back in Scott’s face. He still felt so angry at Scott for that. He could never go home again thanks to his ‘friend’.

“Can we seriously get past that? I made a dumbass mistake, I get it!” Scott says. Scott has felt guilty about that since the words “It’s Derek” came out of his mouth that night.

Dani takes in a deep breath and lets it out in a growl. Scott huffs at his sister. “I’ve said I’m sorry like a million times Dani, what do you want from me?”

“ALRIGHT!” Stiles says, flapping his arms to end that conversation. “Can we change the subject, please?” He asks.

“Yes, let’s do that” Dani agrees, turning left from the stop sign.

“How did you find the alpha?” Stiles asks Derek.

Derek looks at Stiles and then shakes his head deciding not to say anything. He’d had enough of the crap these kids have thrown at him.

“Derek” Dani glances at him for a moment before pulling off on the side of the road. “Come on man” she says. Derek stares at her quietly.

“Can you try to trust us for at least a half a second” Scott says.

That was a stretch for Derek at this point.

“Yeah, all of us” Stiles adds.

Derek shoots Stiles a look that made him cringe.

“Or just Dani.” Derek wouldn’t ease up. “We’ll be back here,” Stiles says and leans back into the backseat again.

Dani turns sideways in her seat, leaning back against the door. “Derek” she says, swatting his arm.

Derek sighs heavily, giving in. “The last time I talked to my sister she was close to figuring something out. She found two things, the first was a guy named Harris” Derek says.

Stiles leans forward again, “Our chemistry teacher?” he asks.

Scott glances over, surprised. “Why him?” he asks.

Why would Derek’s sister be after their teacher? It didn’t make sense.

“I- I don’t know yet” Derek says.

“I knew he was hinky” Stiles says.

“Of course he is, he’s a jerk” Dani says.

“What was the second?” Scott asks.

“Some kind of symbol” Derek says. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. He unfolds it and shows the drawing to them.

Scott’s heart drops. He knew that couldn’t be good. Dani and Scott share a knowing look. They both knew exactly what that symbol was. Allison’s medallion looks exactly like that drawing.

Derek studies both their faces. “You know what this is?” he asks.

Dani sighs, “Yeah.” She looks at Scott again.

“I’ve seen it on a necklace… Allison’s necklace.” He says.

After a long conversation about what to do next and how they needed to get Derek Allison’s medallion, they had almost made it to Scott and Dani’s neighborhood. “Ugh, I’m hungry” Dani says.

“Me too” Stiles chimes in.

Dani smiles at him in the rear-view mirror.

Stiles leans over looking at the clock on the stereo. ‘1:28’ “Is it really almost 1:30 in the morning?” he groans.

Scott’s face lights up and he taps Dani’s shoulder. “Hey, happy birthday!” he says, smiling.

“Oh yeah!” Stiles remembers.

Dani groans, turning onto her street. It was officially tomorrow, February ninth.

Derek studies Dani for a moment. “It’s your birthday?” he asks.

“It is now” she sighs.

~~🌻~~

Dani wakes up to her alarm screeching at her. She groans and slaps at the snooze button, but it keeps screaming at her. She’s always hated the damn thing. After a couple more slaps she gives up and rips it out of the wall socket, tossing it across the room. “Rude” she grumbles and snuggles into her covers again.  Nineteen years old. It’s basically one of the most insignificant ages because it’s right after eighteen and not close enough to twenty-one.

Dani pulls her phone out from under her pillow and sees a several happy birthday texts on her lock screen. Most were from family. She found Derek’s name in the mix of all the notifications. Did Derek really send her a happy birthday text? She taps on his message and unlocks her phone.

‘Are you working today?’

She narrows her eyes at the screen. “Go figure” she murmurs. Of course it wasn’t a happy birthday text. Why on earth would Derek do a thing like that? She’s the only friend he has so why would he express the slightest bit of happiness for her because it’s her birthday. Knowing him she probably wouldn’t get a gift from him either.

She sighs and swipes back to the list of conversations. If it wasn’t a birthday text, she wasn’t going to answer it. Sure, she was being a little stingy because it wasn’t a birthday text Derek had sent, but who wouldn’t want to be celebrated even the tiniest bit by the people you care about. Dani rolls out of bed and tugs on a pair of cotton shorts before heading down the stairs. She steps into the dining room to find streamers, a floral pillowcase covering the back of the chair at the head of the table marking the birthday girl seat, and a glittery ‘Happy Birthday’ banner. She smiles as she looks over Scott and their mom’s handywork.

“Happy birthday, honey!” She hears her mom say. She comes over and gives Dani a big squeeze.

For every birthday that rolls around in the McCall household, the night before their birthday everyone else waits for the birthday boy or girl to go to bed and then they decorate the dining room and living room. They hang streamers, stars, a birthday banner, and the birthday person’s favorite breakfast. Gifts and cards are always opened in the evening before they have cake.

Dani’s birthdays were always exciting because when family rolls into town from down state, they’d always stay the weekend for her birthday. They all cram themselves into this house, and somehow it always manages to work. Her two uncles and her one aunt, as well as her mother’s parents, including all the cousins. The party they throw her every year is always nerve racking and overwhelming for Dani. She usually spends most of the day mentally preparing herself for the evening to come.

“Sit in your chair and I’ll bring you your coffee,” Melissa says.

Scott wanders through the dining room with a sleepy grin on his face. “Happy birthday” he says.

Dani pulls him into a hug and tousles his hair. “Morning squirt” she says, and he pats her back before letting go. He wanders off to the kitchen, adjusting his boxers and Dani shakes her head.

She lets out a sigh and sits down in the birthday girl chair. While she waits for her coffee, she pulls her phone out and looks through her messages again. She stops at Derek’s name and taps on it, opening the conversation. ‘Are you working today?’ she rereads. Dani sighs and chews her lip deciding not to ignore Derek. It didn’t go well last time she did.

‘No happy birthday?’ she types out. Dani smiles as an idea pops in her head. She clears the message and types a different one.

‘Y pensé que estaba recibiendo un texto de feliz cumpleaños’ she sends. (And I thought I was getting a Happy Birthday text)

She sets her phone down with a satisfied smile expecting a ‘What?’ in the next minute or two. Melissa comes back with Dani’s coffee and kisses her hair.

“I’ll bring you you’re pancakes,” she says and walks back to the kitchen.

Anxiety pokes at the center of Dani’s chest as she second guesses her decision about her text. Was Spanish a bit much? Who cares it’s Derek, she didn’t have to be nervous about what she says to him. She shakes her head as if that would make it all disappear and sips her coffee. She hums as the warm liquid warms her belly. It’s absolutely perfect. Her phone dings and she flips it over, sipping her coffee.

‘Y no creías que yo supiera español’ (And you didn’t think I knew Spanish)

Dani chokes as she reads his response. Her eyes bulge and she slaps the table squeezing her eyes shut trying not to laugh. She lets a slight squeal resonate from her throat as she tries desperately not laugh from the shock. If she laughs, coffee goes everywhere. She had no idea Derek spoke Spanish. It was a great surprise and his delivery was perfect.

Scott comes back into the dining room and stares at her. “Are you okay?” He asks.

Dani forces herself to swallow the coffee and a giggle escapes her lips. “I’m fine” she says and takes a deep breath tapping on the text box.

‘OMG’ she sends.

Dani rests her head on the table giggling softly to herself.

Scott sits down in the chair adjacent to hers. “What is it?” he asks.

Dani lifts her head. “I just found out Derek speaks Spanish” she says and smiles.

Confused, Scott simply nods and digs into his pancakes. 

Melissa sets a stack of three chocolate chip pancakes in front of Dani and gives her shoulder a squeeze before sitting down. Dani smiles and thanks her mom. The smell alone was making her mouth water, but the sight was something else entirely. Three perfect pancakes with the perfect ratio of chocolate chips. Dani smiles and takes a bite and hums at the taste. The fluffy pancakes with the melted chocolate gliding over her tongue almost made her eyes roll back. “Oh my God mom” she groans. Melissa laughs and sips her coffee. Dani’s phone dings and she unlocks it, knowing it’s Derek. 

‘Surprised?’

‘Very’ Dani sends. ‘I almost spit my coffee XD’

Dani takes a few more bites of her pancakes from heaven before her phone dings again.

‘Happy Birthday Daniella’

Dani smiles, finally getting her ‘Happy Birthday’.

‘Thanks Derek’

~~🌻~~

Scott and Stiles arrive at school and head for their first class. They had to figure out a way to get Allison’s necklace for Derek.

“This is going to be impossible, you know,” Scott says.

“What if you just ask her if you can borrow it?” Stiles suggests.

“How?” Scott asks with a frown. How on earth would that work?

“It’s easy, you just say ‘hey Allison, can I borrow your necklace?- See if there’s anything on it?- Or in it?- That can lead me to an alpha werewolf that I need to kill in order to get back together with you?’”

“Shut up, that’s not helping.”

Stiles sighs, “Just talk to her.”

“She won’t talk to me!” Scott points out. “What if she like, only takes it off in the shower or something?” Scott asks.

Stiles responds with a string of comments, but Scott had drifted off. It was a warm and friendly place. He pictures Allison in the shower, leaning her head back with her eyes closed. Her hands running over her hair as the water washes over the curves of her body.

“You’re thinking about her in the shower aren’t you” Stiles says, pulling Scott out of the clouds.

“Yeah” Scott says with a goofy grin.

“Alright, just stay focused, okay? Get the necklace, get the alpha, get cured, get Allison back.”

Scott nods, “Get the necklace.”

~~🌻~~

Jackson wakes up in a hospital room with a jolt, breathing heavily and sweating. He had just had a nightmare about seeing the doctor about the scratch on the back of his neck, but the dream went sideways quickly. The doctor pulled a long root of a purple flowered plant out of the wound. It was extremely painful, and the doctor had just kept pulling more and more out. The next thing he knew, the doctor was gone and Derek Hale was standing over him telling him to hold still as he rips the plant out of his body. Jackson figured he must’ve dozed off while he was on the table. His heart is pounding and he felt on edge from his dream.

The doctor turns around with a smile. “Alright you can put your shirt back on, the scabs on your neck are nothing to worry about” he says. He looks over his clipboard reviewing all the information.

Jackson blinks at him for a moment and swings his legs off the edge of the bed. “So, I’m okay for my game tonight?” he asks.

The doc lifts his head, “Oh absolutely, but I do want to give you an antibiotic. Have you been eating any strange herbs lately?” he asks.

Jackson frowns and shakes his head. “Like what?” he asks.

“Well you have aconite poisoning” the doctor clarifies.

Jackson rolls the word around in his head. He had no idea what aconite even was. “What the hell is aconite?” he asks.

“Well it’s a purple flower, also called monks hood or-”

“Wolfs bane” Jackson finishes for him. A chill ran through Jackson as the word leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yes, so you are familiar with it?” the doctor asks.

“No, I have no idea how I knew that” Jackson says.

After Jackson gets dressed and walks over to the nurse’s station. He had to look up that word or else it would drive him nuts for the rest of the day. He rests his arm on the counter and the nurse who was sitting at the computer there looks up. It was Scott’s mom, Melissa.

“Hey Jackson,” she says with a warm smile.

He flashes her a charming smile and says, “Hey, would you mind if I looked something up on your computer real quick?”

“I bet a handsome face like that doesn’t hear ‘no’ very often” Melissa says.

A little smirk tugs at his lips and he shrugs. It was true, he didn’t hear no very often at all. Jackson usually gets what he wants with a little smooth talking and a charming smile.

“Just be quick, okay?” she says.

He nods and she gets up leaving the station. Jackson slides into the chair and types ‘wolfsbane’ into the search bar. His eyes widen slightly at the results. He scoffs and smiles at his new discovery. So many ideas popped into his head that he could twist into devious schemes. He smirks at the screen before closing out the search.

~~🌻~~

Jackson makes his way down the hallway heading straight for Scott’s locker. He finally figured out what was going on with his freak show of a co-captain. He knew there was no way Scott could get that good so quickly after being benched his whole freshman year. He finally had something on Scott and he wanted it. Jackson always gets what he wants, and he was certainly going to get what he wanted this time. He steps up to Scott who was shoving a textbook in his bookbag and he hits the locker making Scott jump. “I know what you are McCall” he says with a devious smirk.

Scott just stares at him blankly, “What?”

Jackson shrugs, “I know what you are” he says.

Scott’s heartbeat starts to rise and a small pit of fear twists in his stomach. Was Jackson talking about what he thought he was talking about? “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about” Scott says. He maintains his best poker face hoping Jackson says something like ‘forget about it’ and leaves him alone. He knew that wouldn’t happen.

“Yeah, yeah you do” Jackson says. “And uh, here’s the thing, however it is you came to be what you are, you’re gonna get it for me to” Jackson says.

Dani closes her locker and glances down the hallway finding a panicked looking Scott. Dani frowns when she notices Jackson talking to him. She reads his body language and sees how Scott is reacting and Dani tenses.

“Get what for you?” Scott asks trying to play it off. He was doing pretty good at acting like he had no idea what was going on, but unfortunately Jackson already knows.

There was no amount of fazing that could shake him. He knew what Scott was. If Scott became that good at lacrosse that quick because of this, he wanted it too. He’s obsessed. He needed to be the best. “Whatever it is-” Jackson says. “A bite-”

Scott stiffens as his stomach does a summersault.

“A scratch, sniffing magic fairy dust under the moonlight- I don’t care, you’re gonna get it for me or uh-” Jackson grabs Scott’s chin, turning his head the other way.

Scott’s eyes focus on Allison who was chatting with Lydia.

“She’s gonna find out too.”

“Hey” Dani cuts in, sliding in front of her little brother, facing Jackson. “Back off, Jackson.”

Jackson assesses her protective stance and smirks at her. “I’m having a conversation here” he says.

“And I’m telling you to back off” Dani says lowly. Dani’s face holds a stony expression as her and Jackson have their little stand-off. “Come on, Scott” Dani reaches behind her, grabbing the strap of Scott’s bookbag and pulls him away from Jackson.

Dani glances over her shoulder, making sure Jackson isn’t following them up the hallway. “What did you do?” Dani asks.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Okay then what’s going on?”

“I think Jackson knows about me”

Dani stops in her tracks. She closes her eyes as the gears lock in her mind.

“What?” Scott asks.

Dani takes Scott’s hand and pulls him into an empty classroom.

“Are you sure he knows?” Dani asks.

“Yeah! And he was talking about how he wants the bite too and if I didn’t get it for him-”

“Wait, he threatened you?” Dani interrupts.

“I- uh”

“Scott, did he threaten you”

“Yeah”

Dani’s expression falls. She swallows the lump in her throat and gestures to the door. “Go to class, okay?” she says. “I’m gonna stay close to you for a while, you know, make sure he doesn’t bother you.”

Scott nods. “Okay, thanks” he says.

Dani nods and forces a smile. “You better run or you’re gonna be late” she says.

Scotts smiles and nods before heading out the door.

Dani sighs heavily and rubs her face. “Oh, this is gonna hurt…”

[jackawhacker]

Who You’re Meant To Be

Contains breast expansion, ass expansion, giantess growth, and cock expansion

“It’s here!” Jolyne slammed the door to our apartment, eagerly rushing inside. She rounded the corner into the living room carrying a small cardboard box.

“Please, I told you to not slam that thing, our neighbors are going to report us again.” I complained.

“You’re just being a grouch, Elaine. Our neighbors don’t care.” She retorted, sticking her tongue out at me. It was hard to take her seriously whenever we argued. Her short five foot flat stature didn’t lend much authority to what she said, and the bright smile she wore whenever we bickered made me forget about what we were talking about in the first place.

I sighed, “It’s whatever. What did you order this time?” Jolyne had a habit of draining her bank account by purchasing all sorts of baubles and trinkets that she swore had some mystical property to them. Last week it was a “scrying orb” with the forbidden ability to see into the future. That illusion was broken pretty quickly after I pointed out the “Made in China” sticker on the bottom.

“Well since you asked,” she said as she plopped down on the couch next to me, “I found a surefire way to help our…” she paused, “...situation.”

For the past couple months our sex life had been rocky to say the least. It wasn’t either of our faults, in fact the intimate moments I shared with Jolyne over our two year relationship were some of the best of my entire life. Before her I felt like I couldn’t be loved.

The main problem was my dysphoria. Being a transgender woman unable to afford hormones and being outcast by my family took a heavy toll on my psyche. I couldn’t find it in me to accept myself, let alone ask somebody else to accept me. But Jolyne made me feel loved and cared for. She looked past my lumbering, wide six and a half foot frame and my rough angular features. She loved me for who I was.

But this last month I was having more and more trouble seeing my body in a positive light. I felt disgusting. And it interfered with the sexual dynamic of our relationship. I couldn’t get over the fact that I would be trapped in this body forever, and it really killed all sexual drive in me.

Jolyne nervously pushed a strand of her brunette hair behind her ear. “I know this is a touchy subject for you, but I really think I can help.” She never failed to try and make everything easier for me. She was there every step of the way. I appreciated her genuine care, even if I did doubt whatever she had to offer. “Alright, if you think it’ll work, I’ll give it a shot.” I said.

“Really?” She bounced up and down with glee, “Thank you Elaine! I know you won’t regret it.” She began tearing open the flap on the small cardboard package. The outside had no discernible markings; no shipping labels or company logos. After she finally got it open, she reached inside and produced a small aluminum sheet with two tablets encased in plastic, similar to the kind you’d pop cough drops or aspirin out of.

“What the hell are those?” I asked, taking the mystery container. The two pills were bright pink in color, devoid of any inscriptions.

“Those,” she said proudly, “are our little miracle workers. I got them off a website called Witch’s Wares.” She took the package back, and popped out the two pills from inside. “We each take one, and after that we’re supposed to become more ideal versions for ourselves and each other.”

“Ideal selves?” I inquired. “Like more at peace or inner calm or something?” The idea of taking random drugs off the internet made me nervous, but if it was something to just mellow you out for an hour or two I wouldn’t mind taking it.

“Not exactly,” she giggled, “it’s supposed to have a more physical effect.” She cocked her eyebrow and cupped the air in front of her flat chest. “Eh? Get it?” She winked at me. I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t satisfied with her body. Ever since puberty passed her over in high school she’d been looking for ways to give herself a boost in the chest department. She had gone through a multitude of natural oils and phony spell books trying to gain a couple cup sizes. Nothing worked of course, but she took it in stride by wearing push up bras and high heels to boost her confidence.

I rolled my eyes. “Jolyne, there’s no way I’m sticking some random snake oil pill in my mouth. Who knows where they came from.”

She frowned, turning away from me in mock anger. “Well then, I guess I’ll have to take this all by myself then.” She said, quickly popping a pill into her mouth before I could respond. God damnit. I couldn’t let her do this alone. If she was poisoned then I might as well be too. “You’re the devil.” I grumbled, swallowing the other pill. The taste was surprisingly sweet, almost like it was pure sugar.

She lightly pecked my cheek. “Thanks baby. I know you’ll enjoy this.” We sat on the couch for the better part of an hour, mindlessly watching reruns on TV, waiting for our miracle drug to kick in. Jolyne anxiously looked back and forth between us the entire time, waiting with bated breath for any sign of change. My eyes remain glued on the episode of MASH playing.

Finally I paused the show and turned to Jolyne. “Listen, not to rain on your parade, but I don’t-“

She had her eyes tightly shut. Her fists were clenched, and her back was arched in either pain or pleasure. A small bead of sweat began to trickle down her forehead. I stared at her, debating whether I needed to call poison control or 911, when she finally spoke up.

“Elaine… I feel really…” she whispered.

All at once, a sudden wave of heat spread across my chest, moving its way throughout my body as I began to breathe heavier. I was overcome with a tingling sensation that seemed to gently massage every inch of my body. I was expecting some sort of bad acid trip at worst, but this didn’t feel painful at all.

“Elaine… I feel good.”

All I could do was stare at my girlfriend as she began to gently moan under her breath. Her breaths were as deep as mine, her chest rising and falling steadily. With each breath it seemed that it rose a little higher, the fabric of her buttoned top slowly being pulled tighter and tighter. I thought I was seeing things, but there was no doubt about what was happening.

She looked down and realized the same thing I had. She looked back up and smiled at me. “See? I told you baby.” She moaned through labored breaths. “Oh Elaine, I feel really warm.” Her nails dug deep into the leather armrest of the couch as she fell back into her stupor.

It was hard to tell at first, but I could slowly see the top of her head rising, inch by inch towards the ceiling. Her ass below her had begun to push against her jeans, her growing hips putting strain on the material. Her curves continued to slowly blossom outwards, creating an hourglass from her once skinny frame. Her breasts had begun to put intense pressure on the buttons of her shirt, easily growing past handfuls now. This was impossible. There’s no way this was happening. And yet she continued to change. Her face was glazed over in ecstasy, unable to form any coherent thoughts as she grew and grew. Suddenly her eyes opened. “Baby, we should stand up. Quickly, quickly!”

I managed to distract myself from this impossible scene in front of me and drag myself off the couch. The tingle inside of me slowly intensified. Why hadn’t I changed yet? What would I look like? What would she look like? Why wasn’t I more freaked out?

I could see why she wanted to stand up. Her once diminutive stature was slowly creeping higher and higher. I couldn’t believe anything I was seeing. My dick tensed against my pants, all of this had me unbelievably turned on. Her legs poked out from the hemline of her jeans, steadily growing, pushing her up taller and taller. The top of her head was level with my nose by now. Her top finally gave up its fight with her expanding tits, launching buttons across the room, her bra snapping in half as breasts the size of her head were finally released from their prison.

“Elaaaaaiiiine,” she groaned, “I’m getting...so big. So big for you.” I looked into Jolyne’s eyes as she crept up to my height, and then past it. “So big baby. I know this is what you want.” And she was right. I had never been more turned on in my entire life. Jolyne was turning into an absolute goddess in front of me.

The jeans desperately clinging on to her frame finally ripped, her monumental bottom shredding them to bits. Her curves were not only massive, but impossibly beautiful. The soft bounce of her now basketball sized breasts was mesmerizing, and every inch added to her growing frame somehow made her more and more perfect with each passing second. The woman standing in front of me was becoming something greater. She stretched upwards, her hands grazing the ceiling.

Slowly her breathing returned to normal, the last bits of her growth coming to an end. I looked on in stunned silence. All I could see was the bottom of a massive pair of flawless, bountiful tits directly in front of me. I forced myself to crane my neck up at her, and gasped. This whole time I had been focusing on her growing body, I had neglected her face. The features were all hers, but changed enough to be the envy of any model. Her lips plumped, eyes glittering. It was intoxicating. I was at a loss for words.

Jolyne softly giggled and looked down on me. Even her voice had become angelic. “I think it’s your turn, Elaine.” She said in her new smooth and sultry tones.

Almost as if on cue, the warmth inside of me began to burn hotter. Realizing I didn’t have much time before the changes set in, I quickly began pulling my top off, only to be hit with a wave of unbridled pleasure. I could hardly move.

“Oh baby don’t worry,” Jolyne cooed, “I’ll get that.” She bent down, her hulking form pressing close to me. I could feel her breasts push into me, slowly consuming the entire upper half of my body. And as if they were nothing, she ripped off my clothes and tossed them aside. “That’ll make it better for both of us.” She stood back up and hungrily licked her lips in anticipation.

I wanted to reply, but all I could do was eek out a yelp of pleasure as the intense tingling settled on my dick. I felt the heat consume my four inch length, and slowly seem to intensify my hard on. It was hard to see at first, but it became apparent that my penis was thickening, growing longer by the minute. My unimpressive rod was now average looking, around six inches now.

The heat burned in my chest, and I almost cried in joy as I dared to hope what may happen. The flesh beneath my nipples pushed out, forming small buds that began rapidly increasing in size. I felt the same heat burn in my rear, and could feel the pressure on my hips as they got wider. My thighs began to thicken and jiggle with my thrashing in pleasure. All the years of hating who I was were now melting off as I began to settle into my new body. The popping and rearranging of my body felt almost orgasmic.

“Elaine, you’re growing so fast! You’re gonna be so big!” Jolyne exclaimed. She was right, I was growing much faster than her, my tits rapidly moving from the size oranges to small melons. All I could do was moan and let the feeling wash over me. This was almost everything I could have hoped for.

I was pulled from my reverie by the slapping of my dick against my stomach. It had grown beyond the point of big, and had moved its way into practically outrageous. It slowly inched higher as my breasts grew to envelop the head. I could feel the thick pulsing shaft creep up in between my breasts and cried out in pleasure. I was practically giving myself a tit job as my breasts massaged my penis with their growth, now as big as Jolyne’s.

I looked up to her from my haze, and realized I had to look further up than before. I didn’t reach the bottom of her tits anymore, I was staring smack dab at her belly button. Had she grown more?

It dawned on me. “I’m getting… smaller.” My now completely feminine frame had been slowly dwindling. The world around me seemed to expand and shift as I lost more and more height. I smiled as I looked up at my girlfriend, slowly sinking below her hips. My titanic breasts now hung below my navel, resting on the tops of my thighs. I could feel myself falling, being pulled further and further downward. My dick burst through the top of my cleavage, achingly hard and begging for release.

I could feel the last spurts of my change coming to an end. My hands roamed all over my new body. I had curves for days. Hell, I had curves for weeks. My dick bounced and throbbed as I felt myself up, thick and leaking precum.

“Oh Elaine, you’re beautiful.” Jolyne stepped closer to me. Her thighs filled my vision. I had shrunk enough to be eye level with her knees now, the thought of which excited me greatly. She knelt down on the floor, still much taller than me even crouched. “I knew this would work. You’re who you’re supposed to be now.” She smiled warmly.

The tingling sensation had slowly left, leaving me with only one thing on my mind.

“Jolyne?”

“Yes baby?” She replied.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.”