#but transcribing is just fucked up boring and annoying

[tardis--dreams]

Yeah i need a real job with fixed working hours otherwise I'll end up with a total of 30 hours of work done in 3 months when the goal is 120 hours and I'll panic work for 5 days straight to catch up with this mess

[russilton]

i could just hear George’s voice with his accent and his attitude in that transcribed report. he went like you wanna talk about unsafety, let’s talk about unsafety because it definitely wasn’t Lewis. he was not taking shit from FIA

PLEASE the whole qualifying with George and Lewis. George being like “tell Lewis to put his foot down” and Lewis responding with you want me to put my foot down. fine i’ll put my foot down. no one flirts on track like them

IT WAS SO FANTASTICALLY UNHINGED- they saved quali from being fuckin boring as normal by playing on track kiss chase.

I feel like we sometimes underestimate how the pair of them have become comfortable with each other and thus, confidently sassy. Off track a year ago? I doubt George would have been teasing Lewis quite as happily, for fear of fucking up their teammate relationship

Now they’re both happy as clams to jump on stage and tell embarrassing stories about each other, joke about annoying one another, and George can cheekily tell lewis to put his foot down. George now knows instead of Lewis getting mad, he’ll just drive so fast everyone is surprised his wheels don’t fly off, and all he’ll do to George is rib him for it or… thank him for the push…

[vividxp]

Part 3 of Liveblogging my second watch of IWTV Ep 5 because I need to process and get it all out

Part 1

Part 2

So the reveal that Claudia has been trying unsuccessfully to turn humans into vampires. She demands for Lestat make her one, otherwise she’s going to go and find other vampires. 

Louis finally gets angry at Lestat and tells him to shut the fuck up. Like dude, same. Like is Lestat right that other vampires are most likely bad news? Probably. Is he still being shitty? Yes. Like...his resentment of Claudia is pure and strong. He really has deluded himself into blaming her for the downfall of his relationship with Louie. The delusion is powerful. Everyone knows this isn’t true, everyone knows Louis straight up left him...that as much as Lestat wants to blame Claudia for ruining things, it was Claudia who managed to salvage scraps out of the burning trash heap of their relationship. And what does Claudia get in return? An eternity of horrors.

Claudia asks Louis again, “He treats us like shit and you take it, why is that?”

Girl, I’d like to know too.

The reveal that Antoinette is still in the picture is shocking to me. Like what the fuck is so special about her that she’s still in the picture? Is it the fact that Lestat knows that it would hurt Louis? That Louis showed jealousy for the first time over her? 

“He’s gotten tired of us Daddy Lou, the housewife and a mistake”

I will now transcribe my reaction to Lestat daring to open his mouth to speak words after this bomb was dropped. “Shut the fuck up, no seriously, shut the fuck up, don’t even try it. just shut up.” 

And then he’s like “I’ll kill her soon.” Bitch, fuck outta here. The fuck?

Claudia tells Louis to think about his decision to turn her. And I agree with her. Actually you know what, I’m Team Claudia this episode. Like even though she is being reckless, the way that her new family has treated her has been bad and I commend her trying to make something out of her situation. 

Louis’s examples of explanations for his actions were all bad. “Vampires were born out of trauma”. Yeah, but like she said, she could have lived if he truly cared about her well being. She could have died. There was a line that Lestat says at the end of the episode and it rings devastatingly true “it was never you”. It was never about Claudia it really wasn’t. That’s the tragedy. 

Daniel telling Louis that he and Lestat are boring and annoying and that Claudia’s story is what’s going to get the people going. Which judging by reactions so far seems to be correct. I saw someone mention that Daniel’s remark that "once you put it out there, they decide what it is” is something that fans have to keep in mind when viewing this episode.

I absolutely disagree with that sentiment. IMO this feels like a meta commentary on the writers themselves. Are we not seeing exactly what Daniel is saying play out? Whatever the writers’ intentions were with this episode, viewers are deciding what is it for better or worse. This self awareness does make me believe that the writers know what they’re doing with this turbulent ride of the episode. I don’t know how they’re going to be able to land the plane but I’m willing to see the attempt.

We’re getting to the halfway mark of the episode. I think this is a good spot to end this for now. 

[livvyofthelake]

tell me about your book omg... how was it different from the movie do you think it's worth reading what was so bad about the whole book fair thing (if you want to do some hating) do you think the detractors on the basis of the novel being problematic are dense or do they have a point... etc <3 also generally what's your fav and least fav book you've read so far this year I'm curious 😁

FIRST of all the bookstore party dinner whatever the hell that shit was was THE WORST THING IN THE WORLD thank you for letting me complain. it was fine actually i just hated that section of part three because it was really boring. it made me feel like when i was 15 and reading the picture of dorian gray and it was slow going but i was doing it until there was one chapter that was so bad and boring i had to literally give up for six months. i always meant to revisit that book btw if anyone else wants to do that i'm putting out an open call to do a little book club moment with our pal oscar wilde... hashtag literacy yay <3 i digress. there wasn't really anything bad about the writing in that section i just didn't like it... so what happens is that before oliver goes back to america at the end of summer, he needed to go to rome to like meet with translators and publishers for his book or whatever it's literally so beyond unimportant. so elio went to rome with him and they like, go sightseeing and what have you. and there's one night where they go to this event at a bookstore and it goes on FOREVER and then everybody at the bookstore goes to dinner and they all spend a million hours being pretentious about poetry and pissing me the fuck off!!!! the whole book up to that point is sooo focused only on elio and oliver and them alone and this stupid section was like hey what if there were like five other people we're pretending are important suddenly? and i was like andré i am going to put a bomb in your house. ok stepping back and looking at the situation like a not insane person. it's literally fine. i imagine the point of all that was to show how elio is like, intelligent and capable of holding his own in the world among other scholarly pretentious people like him (i can't even begin to describe how annoying he is btw. his main hobbies are transcribing music and reading obscure novels in five different languages) he's a lot like a prince in the sense that his parents are rich and he really doesn't have to do anything and all his hobbies are artistic because he's never had to worry about anything outside his personal turmoil or whatever. and in the snse that he has the manners and social graces and ability to act like he's above everything. he literally would have excelled as a medieval royal. anyway it was just a section of the book that i was annoyed by because it was long and too focused on random other characters i didn't even care about at alllllll.

ok we persist. do i think it's worth reading? well it depends. yes and no... if you're a fan of the movie but haven't read the book i think it's definitely worth reading i think in that context it offers a lot of new perspective that enriches the experience or whatever, but if you don't even think you'd like the movie i don't think you should read the book. i guess it depends on the person. do i think you specifically my beloved tee tumblr user lonesomedotmp3 should read it? well summer is the season to do it if ever but really it would depend on whether you want to read a book that it 60% some guy being horny and 30% some guy being sooooo anxious and 10% you sitting there thinking wow this is so boring. actually you read more real world set stuff like this than i do maybe you won't find it so boring. i'm not like. an intellectual with my chosen books i’m a cassie girl.... i need someone to be solving a murder or going on a quest or something to be entertained most of the time… i mean. you should read it if i’ve intrigued you i think it would be better than if you read the curse workers like you said you wanted to because the curse workers ended up being kinda bad in the end… but also don’t blame me if you hate it. i can see multiple paths…. but if you’re gonna read it you should watch the movie first i know people don’t usually advocate for that but i am. or don’t do either idk i’m not telling anybody to do any of it i don’t want that on my conscious if you hate it i’m just saying IF you’re going to…

do i think people who object to it on the basis of it being Problematic are dense or do they have a point? that’s a juicy question… as we all know i do always think you can’t dismiss something unless you actually know what you’re talking about. like there’s of course a difference between not wanting to read/watch something and saying that reading/watching that thing makes anyone who does it a bad person. i don’t know if everyone had the experience i had but i remember a time on this fuckass internet where there were so many people who were so smug about not having even seen the movie and genuinely thought they were like. better human beings for Not Having Partaken In The Problematic Movie. as if everyone who watched it when it came out was tricked by the devil or something and it was a moral failing. it was a ridiculous time i don’t think i’ll ever truly get over it tbh. obviously they DO have a Point with everything that has been said. everyone has a point, that’s what art is about i think!! there IS a weird age gap between these characters! that’s true! elio literally has to go back to HIGH SCHOOL at the end of the story. high school!!!! that being said it’s hard to see it as oliver “taking advantage” in any real way considering oliver is suchhh a loser about it… like he’s a grad student everyone knows grad students are like overgrown babies who are afraid to leave school. sorry to all the grad students i’m just being real and speaking my truth. anyway the whole crux of their relationship is that they’re intellectual peers, which i can understand is hard to grasp for people who don’t speak to anyone outside their immediate age range. i didn’t understand it when i was 16 and all the Discourse was happening because i didn’t know anyone that much older than me. and now at the decrepit and hag like age of almost 23 i work with a bunch of teenagers and get along with them well and don’t think of them as little babies because in many ways we are peers. now i wouldn’t date any of those little bitches i think oliver is a freak for that genuinely i’m just offering a perspective where you as an early to mid twenties person can be peers with a teenager and it’s not weird. basically i wouldn’t call their specific ass situation “predatory” but i DO very much think oliver is a massive freak weirdo. the great news is that this book isn’t about oliver except as an extension of elio <3 and in oliver’s defense you can understand when you read it that he’s clearly in the midst of a sexuality crisis and elio happened to be the other gay person in the vicinity. like it’s nice that they got lucky and were also friends and respected each other and liked each other and were attracted to each other but we must be real and acknowledge that crucially. elio happened to be gay and in his vicinity. and for oliver this was like. a summer affair and then he went back to his real life and girlfriend and got married and had kids. which sucks but is so august illicit affairs taylor swift coded which is awesome. i’m going to be real i don’t think andré aciman would like a lot of the things i’ve interpreted about his book. i’m like painting oliver as this unwitting careless villain and andré literally wrote a sequel in which they get back together and raise a child. frankly i think he’s stupid as shit for that can you imagine ruining your own book so bad with a crap sequel you only wrote because a movie made you popular and you wanted to capitalize? he should kill himself 🙄 it’s giving mcu. it’s giving roberto aguirre sacasa in a way. we have to stop letting men write books they don’t know what they’re doing omg. ok sorry i got away from the point. what was the point actually what were we talking about. you know what i feel like i’ve said enough on that point let’s move. i could maybe keep yapping if we want later but i’m over it rn literally let’s move <3

my favorite and least favorite books i’ve read this year…. first of all FUCK the raven king for real oh my god. i don’t mean that the raven king was like. fine. i already yapped lydia’s ear off about it to very brief responses due to their offline-ness so i’m kinda over talking and complaining about it but let’s just say i’ve never been happy with any ending book in a series ever in my life except perhaps city of heavenly fire. and the only reason i fucked with that was because it was never really an Ending in the sense that there wouldn’t be more. like i knew going into cohf that lady midnight would come out in two years… it was never Over you know? now the last book in the wicked powers? that’s gonna make me kill myself when it comes out. like unless i’ve found true love or something awesome but let’s not pin all our hopes on that lmao… anyway. i’m rereading the raven king rn to give it a second chance and also because i reread all the others in the series and had to give her my due diligence yk? so we’ll see what changes. also fuck the sun and the star. but you all saw all my bitching about that one and really i didn’t even Hate it it was complicated. however. FUCK where the crawdads sing for real and genuinely oh my godddd boring ass book. i haven’t finished it but i will. i guess. i’m just complaining whilst in the middle of it <3 as for favorites… what a thing to think about… well i loved rereading the darkest part of the forest i’ll be a holly black girl forever i fear <3 also i read the first enola holmes book and like. it slayed… like it’s a children’s book but i’m just saying it was great fun… i haven’t really read any Big Girl Books this year tbh. well ok i read cmbyn. but that’s not my favorite be serious. but really i think my favorite favorite book i’ve read this year was the dream thieves… will patton as an audiobook narrator you will ALWAYS be famous… i listened to it a month ago but i’m literally still going around my house talking to myself in the voice he did for kavinsky… i can’t describe it you just have to know… it was this crazy jersey accent but the cadence with which he spoke was just mesmerizing to me… also the book was good. didn’t mean to imply i liked it because of that one character although i did think he was Awesome. but i know that’s not in the camp of popular opinions to have about the raven cycle so we don’t have to be getting into it. we also don’t have to be getting into how i feel about ronan lynch it’s a lot and all the information you need to know is that i said the dream thieves was my favorite book i’ve read this year and i also publicly compared him to my special guy from redacted. you may all draw your conclusions on what i think of him… i’m not doing fandom shit over it…

wow i need to read more books this year those answers were bleak. 😐 when i finally read mexican gothic it’s over for everybodyyyy

[gildedmuse]

Oh, look, yet another vivre card in the need of correction. Well, maybe not correction but definitely improvements can be made.

Benn Beckman

Benn Beckman is originally from the North Blue, and is the oldest of the Red Haired Pirates. Because of course he is. It's pretty much his job to keep this idiots alive, and yes, that has caused him to gray. Whose fault is that, Captain.

When the crew heard that one of them had been proclaimed an Emperor of the Sea, Shanks just assumed it was Beckman. They ALL just assumed it was Beckman. It took a very sober, very persistent barmaid almost four hours to convince them, no, this wasn't some "joke paper". Really! The government considered SHANKS a proper yonko (they had a banner made for the party and everything! At least the booze didn't go to waste.)

I believe it was a young man from the Island Of Anglo that once said, "Akagami Shanks is the sun, and Benn Beckman the moon!" (The rest of what he said failed to be transcribed due to.... The nature of the resulting activities.)

The crew calls Benn an "anchor" because he is like a steady presences that helps keep the crew in place. And also because he cannot swim. A rare trait in the world of first mates, since most captains are stupid enough to eat anything they can get their hands on, devil's fruits included (and it has taken Benn A LOT OF EFFORT to keep that from happening. His captain will eventually get bored enough to put just about any damn thing in his mouth. Like a toddler. A freakishly powerful, infamous the world over, pretty much able to do as he wishes without consequence toddler.)

Have you met Shanks and the rest of those morons? Yeah, Benn smokes. Maybe forgive him this one bad habit. Considering that crew, we're lucky he's not injecting black tar heroin.

I don't know if this is already apparent, but him and Shanks? They do fuck. On the regular.

Benn Beckman's wanted posters are noted for not only declaring the man is to in no way be brought to a navy facility unless he is most definitely a corpse, but also because it lacks a precise bounty. Junior members of the Marines occasionally ask, but the only answer they get is a hearty laugh. Why's it matter, Greenie? What? Someone is gonna show up having defeated Benn Beckman and looking for their money? Hahaha. Oh, maybe you're gonna go out there, stop all the evil pirates? Is that your big plan, newbie? (Seriously though, don't do that. Shanks does not like it when people go annoying Benn, and if Shanks gets upset, Benn will get upset and then we're all dead.)

[firelord-frowny]

!!!!!!!!!!!

someone booked me to play violin stuff at a marriage proposal event and liiiiiiiiiiike.

im CLEARLY not a People Person lmaooo so ordinarily i say Hell To The Naw Naw Naw for these kinds of gigs. but i’m also Poor these days so i agreed to do it and then i was all 😭 to discover that the songs they wanted were all r&b songs???? and like. 

legit, r&b is probably my absolute Least Favorite genre of music as a whole. cue every black person within a 100 mile radius gasping and insisting that i’m Not Really Black or something dumb like that lmao and obbbbvvviouslyyyyy there are a handful of r&b songs that i’m kinda into, but for the most part, the genre totally misses all of the most critical marks that usually inspire me to enjoy a song. (but also like, just to placate those annoying ~how do you hate r&b if you’re black~ people, i’ll mention that i AM partial to other Black Genres in the rap and/or hip hop range, particularly like... pre-early 2000s stuff.)

so i was like aw SHIT now i have to listen to these rhythm and blues songs long enough to actually learn them. :( which i mean, i’m hella expert at learning shit exclusively by ear, and popular music is almost BY DEFINITION easy as fuck on classical instruments, so it wasn’t difficult at all. Just... not enjoyable lmao. 

BUT!!!! i DID learn something interesting! 

I’ve never really though too hard about why it is that i tend to dislike r&b. But in the process of learning the songs i had to learn, i noticed that the rhythms were so imprecise. Which i mean, it’s like that On Purpose. There’s a LOT of eb and flow. a LOT of really drastic liberties taken as far as entrances, and how long certain notes are held for. there’s obviously a LOT of ~runs~ as we call them, where the singer just kinda... sings a whole bunch of notes in rapid succession, usually more-or-less improvising around a certain chord or scale with a VERY carefree rhythm. 

And??? despite all the theatrics of the runs and the improv-like rhythm, the melodies are usually SUPER simple. I mean, most mainstream music has simple melodies, but it really stands out to me in a lot of r&b music because so many of the verses are literally just... the same three notes over and over again in various configurations. This works out fine in vocal music where the lyrics are a major part of the musical experience. But when you transcrive these songs into instrumental versions, it’s SO dull. Maybe not to an untrained ear, but a classical player is going to be SUPER BORED with playing/hearing G G G G G A  A, A D D A D A D* 8 times in a row in the same octave and at the same tempo. 

And don’t get me wrong - i enjoy a lot of songs with simple melodies that only feature a few notes! But for me, those songs have to have lyrical content that is interesting to me, and/or instrumental content that is engaging to my ear. So, r&b fails in this capacity for me because almost ALL of the mainstream songs in the genre are about love or sex or romance in some capacity, and i hate that shit lmao. And, I’m usually not enamored with the instrumentation, most of which is synthesized, and the live instruments that usually do get featured... aren’t instruments that I usually enjoy lmao like piano. or plain ol electric lead guitar without any distortion, usually just lil single-note, melodic solos, and i HELLAAAAA prefer rhythm guitar over lead most of the time. I mean, please fuck me UP with a killer solo a la Hendrix or Morello or Malakian. But I wanna headbang to some power chords, too! 

So like, comparatively, Nirvana is a band whose music isn’t complex. Usually just the same three-ish chords over and over again. and cobain honestly was not a stellar singer lmao. but i like the actual sound quality - the timbres, the instrumentation, etc. and i like the lyrics for the most part, too. 

system of a down, on the other hand???? their music is some of the most complicated and technically demanding non-classical music i’ve ever heard lmfao god it’s INCREDIBLE. key changes, a variety of time signatures, unconventional scale modes, use of middle eastern and/or south asian harmonies and instruments... it’s fucking fabulous. And MANY of their melodies are complex enough that they’d still sound engaging in an instrumental version. A lot of manistream music sticks to just a couple chords per verse, but a lot of SOAD songs feature more frequent chordal changes. and then there’s obviously the fact that both tankian and malakian are fantastic singers. OH and their lyrical content/subject matter is sophisticated as FUCK. 

Vienna Teng! She’s a genius! Oh my god! Melodies that make use of the entire range of a key rather than just sticking to two or three notes. instrumentation that features actual, non-synthesized instruments, and those instruments vary depending on the subject of the song. piano, strings, background vocals that function solely as instruments in their own right... 

and back to my original point, 

Most of the songs in these genres by these artists stick to a consistent rhythm. they don’t take very many liberties. You could easily transcribe any SOAD song because the rhythmic subdivisions are precise. But in order to properly notate the rhythm of many r&b songs, you’d need to subdivide right down to 132nd notes instead of the usual 16ths or MAYBE 64ths. and i ain’t about that life. 

SO, 

adhering to a precise rhythm is something that’s almost ubiquitous in classical music. i mean yeah, we do take liberties from time to time, and many pieces call for increases or decreaases in tempo, but for the most part, imprecise rhythm is a whole ass cardinal sin lmaooo. unless it’s some of that freaky New Music.

And since I’m soooooo accustomed to rigid rhythmic standards, i think the ebby-flowines of r&b makes my ear super uncomfortable! It’s unpredictable for me, which makes me anxious because it’s difficult to know when the next note or the next lyric is going to be sung. so it’s hard for me to get a feel for it.

so like, 

the point of this post is just to say how neat it is that i could learn something so interesting about my musical tastes from playing music i don’t like lmaooo. 

[gulfportofficial]

Anyway, here’s some more WIP GP (I think some of you may have seen bits of this before? I told you it was taking me forever).

I loved how he looked when he woke up. Cranky and rumpled and soft all at the same time, his black hair messy and his skin warm from the bedclothes. It seemed to take him a minute or two to hear me well enough to respond to me. How human he was, still, that even now with his impossible strength, he woke up groggy. I climbed onto the bed, and then onto him, and kissed him on the mouth.

He smiled against it. He put his arms around me. “Has the paper come?”

Typical, I thought of saying, but did not. I wasn’t really annoyed by it. That clever little occupation of his, that too, was part of his sweetness too. “Yes,” I said, “and I’ve got the Picayune.”

Louis shuffled up and arranged his pillows fussily, so he could lean back onto them. “You’re very good to me,” he said. “Was it a nice walk?”

“Entirely uneventful,” I said. “Kiss me again and I’ll let you read your papers.”

He did. “Will you tell me the shape of the evening so that I know how long I have to read them?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did your mother mention what time she was arriving? Do we need to go out before she comes?” he asked. “I don’t mind doing that.”

It would be entirely wrong to say that I had forgotten she was coming. I had thought about nothing else since her call. I had thought about it in my sleep and upon waking and during my walk and while he was kissing me. But I thought about it so hard it didn’t seem to be present in my real life. I swallowed, and Louis looked at me strangely.

“I don’t know,” I said. “She might want to go out together.” “It’s a shame you just can’t call her to check,” Louis said.

I didn’t bother to answer that. Such a pointless dig. Was that the shape of the evening then, something structured by Louis’ painful and barbed asides catching at my flesh? I rolled off him and fished out my laptop computer. I took my notebook and glasses from the bedside table. He didn’t comment.

There wasn’t much for me to attend to on the internet. A few emails. Facebook nonsense. I had been tagged in some photographs and proceeded to vet them. I do like candid photographs, but there are limits.

Louis had picked up the Press-Register. “Why don’t we go out just in case,” he said. “If she wants to, we can go again.”

I don’t think he was thinking this through. As a general rule, we do not hunt so close to where we live, unless we can truly be sure it is a little drink only and nothing more. We didn’t have time to go far enough afield. At least I felt we didn’t have time. He was right that I couldn’t call to check.

“You go,” I said. “I’ll wait.”

“That’s alright. If you want to wait, we’ll wait. I’ll survive.”

“Won’t it drive you mad?” I said. I’d opened up my Notes document and begin to transcribe.

“You forget to whom it is you’re speaking,” Louis said, and I was about to tell him off, but he was right. Anyone who could live on rats for as long as he had could skip a night. Just one though, allowing for the precedent of the consequences of his doing that.

“How’s the Gulf?” I asked, deliberately.

Louis gave me a look, but it worked, as I knew it would. “Thad Allen’s leaving,” he said.

“I don’t know who that is.”

“The Coastguard National Incident Commander. He actually stepped down moths ago but…”

I sighed. “Unlike you, Louis, I have better things to do than read everything about the fucking oil spill, so obviously I don’t know what that is either. When you tell a story like this you must structure in a referent or two so I am able to orient myself.”

I regretted saying that. I regretted saying anything that could stop him from focusing on the spill instead of my mother. “It’s called glossing,” I said, hastily. “One should gloss.”

I wonder if he took pity on me then, because he went on with only the slightest air of annoyance. “Admiral Allen,” Louis said, “is a Coast Guard official and the man appointed by President Obama to oversee responses to the disaster. He has a most distinguished career, actually, and…”

“What did he do?”

“Many things, but…”

“No, I mean, why is he stepping down? What did he do? Did he get caught taking a bribe or something else scandalous?”

“I think he’s just retiring.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s dull.”

“He’s responsible for most of the online mapping.”

“The what?”

“I showed you,” Louis said. “The computer map of the spill and how it was spreading. On the internet. That was his idea, to make that map public.”  

“Oh yes, I remember,” I said. I didn’t. I was bored with the internet now anyway. I hopped out of bed, and started to flick through my wardrobe. I’d shower and dress, I felt better equipped to face the evening showered and dressed. I felt the need to cement things with a lot of ritual. Prayer. I thought I might do something to my face and slipped into the bathroom.

“What’s that on your face?” Louis asked when I slipped out. “Supernatural late stage leprosy?”

“Shut up,” I said, then I read off the jar for him, “it’s a Green Clay Masque with Rice Enzyme.”

Louis opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. I supposed I knew what it was – you don’t need that, it will have absolutely no effect on you – but I wondered why he decided not to lecture me. Perhaps he couldn’t be bothered.

He could think what he liked anyway. I felt the stuff drying on my face and I liked the sensation of it, it felt redeeming in some manner. I set the jar down and sat back on the bed and pulled out my laptop again. Nothing on Facebook had changed and it was all still boring. I trawled through it anyway. One feels obligated, or else compulsion. That,too, is like a naturalized little prayer against disaster.

Louis ran a gentle, distracted-seeming hand up and down on my back as I did. “My mother…” he said. I looked up.

I wasn’t sure if he’d trailed off out of discomfort, or simply because he didn’t intend to keep speaking. “What, Louis?”

“When my brother died…” Louis said, and that was surprising enough that I had to actually turn around to look at him. He never spoke about this. Never. And it didn’t precisely seem buried, not on his face now, nor in the fact that he’d stuttered himself out of speaking. Once turned around I held perfectly still.

He began again. “When my brother died,” Louis said, “well, you probably remember my telling you this, but we’d argued. Almost immediately before. Moments before. And my mother blamed me.”

“That’s not kind,” I said. “And it’s not true. Brothers exchange harsh words sometimes.”

“No, you’ve misunderstood,” Louis said. “I mean that she believed I’d committed the act. She asked the police to question me.”

Oh, Louis, I wanted to say. How horrible. How cruel. “Is that why you can’t understand a mother caring for you, or being your friend or being intimate?”

“Perhaps it is,” Louis said. “My mother and I were never particularly at odds before then, but we weren’t close either. I don’t know. I don’t know what she thought.”

“Why didn’t you ask her?”

“You’re correct that we didn’t have that sort of intimacy. I don’t recall ever asking her much of anything.”

How quickly I regretted this Green Clay Masque with Rice Enzyme. It had already started to itch and I wanted it off me, but I could not move to interrupt what Louis was saying. My heart wouldn’t let me do that.

“I don’t think my family in general liked me very much,” Louis said, his solemn white face still and his eyes far away. “Furthermore, I’m not sure I deserved being liked, since I don’t recall I was very kind to them. My father died and I focused on management, and I don’t wonder if that’s all I did. My sister said as much, after… well, after you and I… after I sent her to the city.”

“Did she really just announce that to you,” I said. “That she didn’t like you? That’s an awfully rude thing to say to the person funding your lifestyle.”

Louis raised an eyebrow at me. I took the point. However, there was strangely little malice in his expression considering how much room in it for malice there was. That was curious and I waited for him to continue.

“Yes she did,” he said. “She and I did become close then. When I visited her, we did talk, and with a great deal of frankness and intimacy, and she said very directly that I had become kinder and that she had begun to understand and to like me. So perhaps my mother simply knew an unkind person.”

But the real you must have shone through, I wanted to say. It seemed impossible to me that anyone could have met Louis and not instantly fallen as fatally in love as I, even, if not especially, his mother. Someone so beautiful, so passionate, so gentle and particular and odd, you’d need a heart of stone not to love him. But perhaps all of his reservations with me had come from this. Perhaps like all of us, Louis had been irreparably shaped by the first person ever to hold his vulnerable mortal body as it came into this world, forever formed by whatever definition of love was taught to him.

“Your mother was crazed with grief, chéri,” I said. “That’s all it was. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Well,” he said. He opened the paper again. His face was flat now. He’d finished. Any grief of his own that lingered, he wouldn’t show me.

I tried, subtly, to scratch my face, but I stopped before he looked at me. If he noticed he’d say something pointedly right about the masque and I didn’t want him to do that. “Whatever happened to that man your sister married,” I said. “She married that… I forget, but there was something about him…”

It was desperate. But I hoped it at least sounded conversational.

“There was nothing about him,” Louis said. “Unless you mean the fact that he was profoundly inbred, which yes, I suppose, is notable from a certain point of view.”

I snorted. “You’re a snob, chaton.”

“I’m nothing of the sort. It’s your kind who inbreed. The middle classes marry out.”

“You are…” I said, but I didn’t know what he was. Terrible, at least, I wanted to say. Absolutely appalling. I felt myself smiling, preparing to tease.

“Listen, Monsieur,” Louis said, and I stopped. He said it firmly, a stately little command, and it worked on me instantly. I listened, I waited.

“Listen, Monsieur,” he said, again. “I intend to be an asset to you in this, not a obstacle.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“That’s all,” he said. “Go on. Go on about your strange ablutions. I’m going to finish these papers.”

[purplesurveys]

972

survey by karla-babyy

Do you know any Asians with American names? In my nationality’s case, nearly all of them. It’s a more common trend than this question makes it out to be. Spanish and Italian names are also common. Filipino names died out for a very long time with only much-older people having them, but it’s slowly seeing another surge over the last few years. Still mostly rare to find, though. Have you ever cut your own hair? I’ve trimmed my bangs with my mom’s help, but not my whole hair. What is something you're avoiding right now? Trying to cry. It was either getting distracted by this survey or staying in bed breaking into tears, so if this survey ends up getting posted it means I made the right choice for myself. What was the reason for your last detention? We don’t have that. I never got in trouble except in Grade 4 when I was caught snickering loudly at the back of the classroom with a friend. Do you eat your vegetables? Yeah, I’m not 5.

Have you ever taken Flintstone's Gummy Vitamins? I’m not sure we have those here, so I doubt I’ve tried that in particular. But I’ve taken plenty of gummy vitamins throughout my childhood and teenage years. Do you get side-tracked easily? Personal shit can sometimes affect my pace and my focus while at work, but I’m always able to shake it off in the end and choose to be more professional. But it does happen, and it can get really hard to like, fix a spreadsheet or do a Powerpoint or write up a cheery email while thinking about my trauma and continually swallowing lumps in my throat lol. When was the last time someone laughed at you, and for what? Cooper was being feisty in my arms last night and my dad laughed at how silly we looked. Do you know anyone who can play the violin? Yes, Ate Alyanna and JM’s sister. JM has also been taking up lessons, but I don’t know of his progress anymore. I haven’t talked to him in months. What's a word you do NOT like, one bit? Faggot/fag sounds so dirty to me. Are you taking or did you take any foreign language classes in high school? I didn’t. I think they offer them now but during my time they didn’t, so it wasn’t like I had the option to take them. As for college, foreign language electives also weren’t required for journalism students so I never took any. When was the last time you took a nap? Last Saturday. Does it piss you off when your parents treat you like a baby? They can be pretty overbearing, like the time they forced me to wear an extremely, painfully corporate look for an interview with a PR agency whose dress code was anything but. That grinded my gears quite a bit. But otherwise, I really do prefer them looking after me. Have you ever swallowed something you shouldn't have, like a quarter, etc? Some weird oil leaking from a battery. Do you know any Russian people? I don’t think so. What was the worst comeback you have ever received? I don’t know. It’s hard to be put on the spot and answer superlatives like this. Do you like Ed Hardy clothes? I don’t know how they look, but I’m guessing that I don’t. What shampoo did you use the last time you washed your hair? Dove. What was the last story you told someone? Dealing with a clumsy co-intern at work. I got tasked to transcribe a 30-minute audio file - which would’ve been no problem to do on my own, since taking up journalism made me transcribe a shit-ton of interviews - but I was doing other tasks for other superiors as well which meant that I had to use a lifeline and tap a co-intern for help. I split the file up and told her I would transcribe the first 20 minutes, while she can take care of the last 10 minutes. I breezed through mine and finished in 45 minutes while multi-tasking, while I never got updates on her end. I kept waiting, and after an hour I asked for her progress and she said she was only 4 minutes in. At that point I was pretty annoyed at myself for giving away a task I thought I was too busy to finish on my own. A little later she messaged me and said she couldn’t understand what was said at the “7:25 minute mark” I was aghast. I was like, “Do you mean 27:25? I said I was going to take care of the first 20 minutes,” and it turns out she never even read my message of me splitting up our parts. I was pissssed as fuck, because she took so fucking long transcribing and it wasn’t even the right part I assigned her to, and because she committed my pet peeve of people not reading directions. Knowing full well how slow she is with transcribing at that point, I just offered to do the rest of the file. Do you like surprises? And no, I dont mean presents. Just surprises. Pleasant ones, yeah. I don’t like surprises meant to scare me. Do you use mascara on your bottom eyelashes? Nope. I can’t remember the last time I used mascara. Do you pick at your fingernails when you're bored? Sure, if they’ve gotten kind of long. When was the last time you played a board game? Sometime last year would be a safe guess. I’m pretty sure I haven’t this year. Do you know anyone named Paul? Yeah, an alumnus from my org who comes around every once in a while. Who was the last person you touched? Not sure, I haven’t had any physical contact with another person in a while... maybe my sister, idk. Name someone who is younger than you. Laurice, Jo, Kate, and Blanch are all younger by a year. Who was the last person you kissed? Gabie. Does your best friend have her/his ears pierced? Yes. When was the last time you received something in the mail other than bills? A few weeks ago when one of my dad’s orders got delivered, and we had to receive it for him. Listen. What do you hear? There’s a new house being constructed in front of ours so there’s a lot of construction noises that we have to hear every day. The workers are nice though and they like seeing my dog and they haven’t cat-called me, so there’s little to whine about. Do you enjoy prank-calling? No. Who was the last person to annoy you? Gabie. Can you recite the alphabet backwards? Nope. I had it memorized at one point, but I guess my brain didn’t find it significant enough to want to remember. Do you own more than 10 pairs of earrings? No. I do want lots of earrings, though. I’d love to buy a few pairs once I’ve gotten my allowance, heh. Is the room you are currently in messy? No, it’s very organized now after my mom and I cleaned it up and redesigned it a bit during the weekend. Do you like correcting people when they say something wrong? If they’re being an asshole about their argument that turns out to have some errors, yes. Otherwise I don’t correct people every single time. Who was the last person to kiss your cheek? Not sure. A good guess would be Gabie though. Do you call people "babygirl"? I’ll use this to refer to my close friends sometimes. What was the last yucky thing you smelled? Cooper’s business. Is the time on your computer clock wrong? No. It has always been accurate from the time I started setting my laptop up when it was new. What should you be doing right now? I’m not required to start working until 9, so I’m good taking this survey for now.   Does it bother you when girls talk about tampons in front of boys? It will only bother me if said boys start to feel genuinely uncomfortable for some reason. But if they’re just boys that are being childishly whiny about periods, then those girls can talk their ears off about tampons as much as they want. Is in front one word, or two? Two. How many syllables are in the word "Koala"? Three.

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

Six Baudelaires AU, Part Two {AO3} {Masterlist} {Part One}

Chapter Seven → in which Nick gets them all in even more trouble

“Okay, so here’s the plan.” Nick said. “We sneak those knives out of the kitchen again, and throw the body into the river.”

“Nick, we can’t kill Olaf.” Klaus said. “We’re not killing anyone. That’s illegal and immoral.”

“So’s torturing us every night.” Nick said. “It’s self-defense.”

“No murder!”

Night after night, Coach Genghis made the Baudelaires report to the field and run laps around their circle. And it was getting more and more exhausting every time; the Baudelaires had taken to falling asleep in class or at work, which did not do wonders for their grades.

“I haven’t been this tired since I got my first tesla coil.” Violet yawned, looking like she might fall face-first into her spaghetti.

“I haven’t been this tired since Sunny was born.” Lilac said. “Her room was right next to mine and she kept screaming.”

Klaus glanced down at Sunny, who had fallen asleep on the bench beside him. “Well, she’s a lot quieter now, isn’t she?”

“Well, at least we’re all getting into great shape.” Nick said, annoyed beyond belief. “Couldn’t he at least do us a favor and play music while we run? It’s so boring and exhausting and-”

“Speaking of boring and exhausting.” Duncan groaned, and they turned to see Carmelita tap up to them.

“So, for my eleventh message to you,” Carmelita said, “Vice Principal Nero wants to see the Baudelaires in his office right now. So you better hurry!”

“Piss off, Carmelita.” Violet sighed. “We’re not in the mood.”

“I’m just telling you what I was told to tell you.” Carmelita giggled. “And since this is my eleventh message, you’re overdue eleven tips.”

“We gave you our tips.” Nick said, glaring at her. “But here’s today’s; there’s a book that was made into a popular film that is about a hound dog and a fox. In the book, at the end, the hound kills the fox.”

“Your tips suck!” Carmelita huffed.

“You suck.” Nick said, standing up. “Come on, guys, let’s see what his majesty Vice Principal Nero wants from us.”

Klaus shook Sunny and then stood, starting to move away from the bench. But just as he stepped out, a frustrated and spiteful Carmelita kicked out her leg. Klaus tripped, letting out a startled gasp as he did, and Nick instantly put a hand on the table, vaulting himself over and grabbing onto him just in time.

“Klaus?” he sounded very uncharacteristically terrified. “Klaus? Are you okay?”

Klaus, startled, quickly stumbled out, “Y-yeah, I’m fine…” as Lilac and Violet also jumped up, grabbing the infants, and the Quagmires hurried to their feet.

“Did your glasses break?”

“No, I’m-”

“Are you hurt?” Nick pulled away from his slightly, his eyes moving fast as he scanned his brother.

“Nick, I’m fine!”

Nick stepped back from Klaus, and then whipped around to give Carmelita a dark look. “Nick…” Violet said, noticing other students were starting to look around at them.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nick snapped. “Why would you do that?”

“Why, I didn’t do anything.” Carmelita said innocently. “Your dumb brother tripped.”

“He’s not dumb and he didn’t trip!” Nick said, his voice sounding almost panicked.

“And who’s anyone going to believe?” Carmelita said, smirking. “I’m the prettiest, most adorable, most talented girl in the whole wide school, and you’re just a cakesniffing orphan from the Orphans Shack. No wonder nobody wants you.”

“Take that back!” Nick said.

“Carmelita,” Isadora said, “If you don’t piss off right now, you’re getting a facefull of spaghetti as a tip!”

“I don’t have to take anything back. Everything I said is true.” Carmelita said. “You’re cakesniffing orphans, nobody wants you, and your stupid brother-”

It was about then that Nick leapt forwards and punched Carmelita across the face.

There was a deadly silence for a very, very long time.

“Shit.” Lilac muttered.

“You children are simply unbelievable!” Nero cried.

The six Baudelaires sat in chairs in front of Nero’s desk, miserably watching him pace back-and-forth, as Coach Genghis leaned against the wall, giving them satisfied smirks.

“Firstly, you punch our star student, the most adorable girl in the school who has never harmed a living soul!” Nero said.

“I wouldn’t say that.” said Nick, glaring down at the floor. He hadn’t looked anybody in the eye since he’d attacked Carmelita.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nero imitated. “And then there’s your recent behavior in regards to classes and work. Solitude and Sunny have failed to transcribe all of my letters or answer all of my calls, and we’re out of staples. And as for the rest of you, Mr Remora and Ms Bass have told me that you have been failing all of your quizzes for the last several days- and you, Nick, have failed every exam since your second day here! Zeroes on everything.”

“Oh, there’s probably a reason for that.” Nick muttered.

“And you’ve missed several violin recitals!”

“That’s cause we’re at gym class all night!” Violet protested.

“That’s cause we’re at gym class all night! Excuses, excuses. Now, if it were up to me, I would throw you out of this school immediately. But we do have rules here. Rules that we must all follow.”

“Are there any rules about child labor?” Lilac asked, glancing at Sunny and Solitude.

Nero ignored this, or maybe he didn’t hear it. “Now, if you are truly competent students and secretaries, you will have one more opportunity to prove it. Tomorrow morning, you will take a test on the stories from Remora and measurements from Bass from the last few days, and Sunny and Solitude will make new staples for an administrative test.”

“How are they supposed to make new staples? They’re toddlers!” Klaus protested.

“They’re toddlers! They’re secretaries, they must find a way. If you should fail, though, Coach Genghis has graciously offered an alternative.”

The children froze up as Coach Genghis turned to wickedly smile at them. “Have you children ever heard of homeschooling?”

“Excuse me?” Lilac snapped.

“It is schooling, but at home. Where adults can pay more attention to individual issues and strengths.” said Coach Genghis.

“We know what homeschooling is.” Violet said. “We were-”

“If you should fail your tests,” said Nero, “You will be expelled. And if you are expelled, Coach Genghis will homeschool you until your banker can come to collect you.”

The children gaped. “Surely you can’t do that!” Nick said.

“Mr Poe wanted us to stay here!” Violet said.

“Mr Poe put you under my authority,” said Nero, “And I say that if you flunk out of school, you will go to the temporary custody of our wonderful gym teacher.”

“I can’t wait.” Coach Genghis said.

“Well,” Lilac said sharply, standing up and picking up Solitude, “We’ll go study.”

“Better hurry.” Genghis said. “I expect you in the field tonight for your Special Orphan Running Exercises.”

“What?” Nick said.

“You expect us to run tonight?” Violet said. “How are we supposed to study?”

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Genghis said, smiling widely as his eyes shone.

“So that’s why he has you running.” Duncan said sadly. “To get you tired so you fail your classes.”

“We should’ve guessed before now.” Lilac said glumly. “How could I be so stupid?”

They all snuck into the library, where Duncan was quickly flipping through his commonplace book, marking all the pages where he’d taken notes on Remora’s stories, while Isadora marked all the pages with notes from Bass’s measurements. Sunny and Soli glumly sat on the carpet, watching Babbitt hop around, while Nick curled up on an empty shelf and refused to look at anyone, and Klaus leaned on Duncan’s shoulder, about to fall asleep.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Isadora said quickly. “It’s a convoluted plan, to be sure.”

“So we’re going to need a convoluted plan to thwart him.” Duncan said.

“We won’t be able to study everything and get to gym class.” Lilac said. “We don’t have time, unless we can be in two places at once.”

Duncan considered. “Maybe you can be.”

“Excuse me?” Klaus said, sitting up. “How can we do that?”

“We’ll be you.” Duncan said.

Klaus blinked. “What?”

“That’s good!” Isadora nodded. “You mean like Halloween, age nine?”

“Exactly like Halloween, age nine.” Duncan nodded.

“What’s ‘Halloween, age nine,’ and what are you planning?” Violet asked, as Nick slid from the shelf to sit beside them.

“Halloween, age nine,” Isadora said, “Was when we wanted to go as a certain family of six children. The problem being that there’re only three of us.”

“So we made figures of the other children and dragged them behind us on little wagons.” Duncan said. “We don’t have figures we can model, but the science room has human figurines we can probably dress up. In the dark, you won’t be able to tell they’re not moving.”

“And for the toddlers, we can drag some flour bags on string.” Isadora said. “There’s string in the art room that closed down, and flour in the kitchen…”

“I’m sorry, wait.” Lilac said, holding up a hand. “Are you saying that you want to go to gym class for us?”

“Absolutely.” Isadora nodded.

“Yep.” Duncan agreed.

“Oh, that’s not happening!” Lilac and Violet shouted.

“Absolutely not.” said Klaus and Nick.

“No!” Solitude and Sunny both shouted, startling Babbitt, who immediately leapt onto the top of Soli’s head.

“Look!” Duncan said. “Do you want to flunk out of school and get sent back to Olaf’s custody?”

“This is a good plan!” Isadora said. “We’ll get to work, and then you all hide in the Orphans Shack and study!”

“We don’t want you near Olaf.” Lilac said.

“What if he catches you?” Klaus asked.

“That won’t happen. We’ll be fine.” Isadora said. “We’ve gotten out of plenty of scrapes before, haven’t we?”

“Oh, definitely. Quigley’s gotten us into so much shit…” Duncan trailed off, glancing at the ground for a moment. And then he said, “Well, it’ll work. And it’s the only plan we’ve got.”

The Baudelaires glanced at each other. “I don’t like it.” Lilac said. “But if we don’t come up with something else, we’re stuck with Olaf.”

“We can’t ask you to do this for us.” Nick said quietly.

“We know you’re not asking.” Isadora said, smiling. “We’re volunteering.”

The Baudelaires all sighed, and then Lilac said, “Where’s the science room?”

“You know, if this wasn’t so stressful,” Duncan said, “This would be fun.”

Isadora nodded, tying her hair back with a ribbon. “It may not be particularly wise / But it’s a thrill to be disguised.”

They were back in the library; Isadora and Nick dragged in two mannequins from the science room, Lilac and Violet fetched the flour bags, and Klaus, Solitude and Sunny gathered together string and ribbons from the art room. Sunny sat on a chair with two pieces of metal, biting and bending them into the rough shape of glasses.

“Nick and Klaus tend to be the ones falling behind,” Lilac said, as she attached some string to a mannequin to resemble hair, “But unless you want to make a wig, Duncan, you should try to be Klaus. The glasses’ll stick better on you than the mannequin, and I seriously doubt Olaf notices who’s running faster anyway.”

Isadora finished tying her hair back, and she said, “Well, how do I look?”

Violet and Lilac glanced at her, and Violet stumbled, “Um. Different. Good- good different. Pretty- pretty good.”

“You look good.” Lilac said, giving her a nervous thumbs-up.

“This looks kinda like me.” Nick said, stepping away from the mannequin him and Soli had been messing with. “Where’d you get the uniforms, anyway?”

“We just stole some of our extras.” Isadora shrugged. “Don’t look so nervous, Klaus, think of this as an art project.”

“I’m nervous anyway.” Klaus said. Sunny let out a small yip and held out the glasses, and Klaus took them from her, turning around. “Duncan, you’ll- you’ll need these.”

Duncan took the glasses, putting them on. “Perfect.” he said, smiling a little.

Klaus blushed slightly. “Um… yeah. Yeah. You look… fine.”

Duncan grinned, and Nick punched Klaus on the shoulder as Soli giggled.

“Oh, um, also,” Klaus slowly pulled out the spyglass, sharing a look with Nick. “Take this. In case you need it.”

“I don’t think we will.” Isadora said, but she took it anyway. “But thank you.”

“You know, there’s still time to back out.” Lilac said. “You can just go back to the dorms and let us figure something out.”

Isadora shook her head. “We’re your friends. We’re not going to let anything happen to you.”

“But if something goes wrong-” Violet said.

“Nothing will go wrong.” Duncan assured her. “Nothing will go wrong at all. We’ll see you in the morning, Baudelaires.”

He took hold of the string on Nick’s mannequin, pulling it a little, smiling as it moved towards him. Another string was tied to its waist, holding a bag of flower shaped kind-of like Solitude.

“The devil’s tongue knot should hold those.” Lilac said.

“I’m sure they will.” Isadora said. “See you all soon!”

Her and Duncan ran out, then, dragging the mannequins and flour behind them.

“We shouldn’t have done this.” Nick said, as soon as they were gone. “We can’t just let them…”

“We can’t stop them.” Violet said. “So we might as well let them help.” She reached for the table, picking up Duncan and Isadora’s commonplace books. “Let’s get some studying done.”

As Lilac and Violet started to head out for the Orphans Shack, with Lilac picking up Sunny once she got close enough to lift her up, Klaus grabbed Nick’s hand, slowing him slightly. “Should I have given them the spyglass?” Klaus asked.

“It might be helpful.” Nick said quietly. “Don’t worry. Once we’ve foiled Olaf’s plans, we can all work on that thing together.”

[mittensmorgul]

not a strictly spn question, but, as someone who wants to start writing, how the ever-loving fuck do you pump out so many fics so fast?? i’ve been working on outlining the same three stories for like a year (not really) ((but kinda))

Hi there, and congrats on that much outlining! I… don’t outline that much, ever, for anything. But I also don’t think I crank out fics all that fast. It might seem that way sometimes, but the Pinefest fic I posted in February has actually been drafted (and through several rounds of editing) since last August. I only just posted it for Pinefest. So it might seem there was only a month and a half between me writing that and the thing I posted last night, I’ve actually been working on THAT since January… three and a half months for 30k isn’t very fast. :P

I’m putting this under a cut because it’s kinda long, and possibly boring or irrelevant in the big scheme of things…

(I once wrote a 105k word original novel in 15 days, and a friend of mine wrote a 130k novel in just over three days on a deadline, but heck that is atypically fast… and nearly killed them… no really they developed shingles from the stress of it, do not recommend)

So I might be slightly biased here, but at some point you gotta stop outlining and start writing. That’s the secret. You can’t crank out stories unless you actually start writing them.

That said, when I say I don’t outline, I mean I have notes for fic that range from this, for my 8k short:

*soulmate situation described here: http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/173681098950/i-saw-a-writing-prompt-that-went-like-this-you Officially written and posted on 11/14/18 as Lost Time.

that’s just a link to a post that inspired the thing, to this, for a 65k fic: 

*NAILED IT! How could I fanfic my way through this baking show? or maybe I should just… write fanfic of this… (notes document: Cakepocalypse notes) (in process as of 4/1/18 as a potential dcbb as Cakepocalypse) (posted 6/23/18)https://archiveofourown.org/works/15017792

(sorry, I removed the link to my notes doc, but what I am willing to show of that:

wherein a lot of those 15 pages consists of images of the cakes in each challenge for my own personal reference while writing.)

Basically the ONLY two fics I’ve ever written an outline for structurally required it:

Cakepocalypse and Around the World in 24 Days, both fics based off “reality show” formats– Cakepocalypse was basically Nailed It!, and AtWi24D is the Amazing Race (and over 101k, based on about 5k worth of very detailed notes I’d be happy to show you if you come off anon). There was no way I could keep track of that many “contestants” and all their challenges, travel, baking, guests, etc. without keeping these sorts of detailed notes.

My previous pinefest fic, Winchester 275, was a 57k AU based on a two sentence thing that had been sitting on my to be written list for YEARS:

*(writing for pinefest, working title of Winchester 275 as of 8/29/17, draft finished 11/29/17, posted 3/6/18 http://archiveofourown.org/works/13788693) astronomy night at a dude ranch in arizona, Cas brings the telescope, dean only sees the stars in his eyes oh god did i actually write that down? yes. yes i did.

And my first DCBB, Revenge of the Subtext, was 80k based on a one sentence prompt: http://mittensmorgul.tumblr.com/post/130269813965/meangreenlimabean-mittensmorgul.

So if your fic doesn’t NEED you to make such detailed notes, just start writing already. :D

When I first started writing (loooong before I ever started writing fic), some of my encouraging friends told me some interesting stories. We got to talking about how annoying it was that so many people respond to someone saying they write with, “Oh, I’ve been thinking about writing a novel for years,” or something else along those lines. My friend told me she knew a guy who had been outlining his novel for more than a decade, but never seemed to be able to get it quite right so that he felt he could start writing. With that sort of attitude, he probably never will, you know?

You will never have a “perfect” outline. Just like you’ll never have a “perfect first draft.” You have to have a draft to be able to edit it, you know? Can’t edit a blank page, and an outline can only take you so far before it becomes so fleshed out that it ceases to be an outline and looks more like a first draft.

So set a writing goal for yourself. Shoot for easy to start with, and then you can tweak the goal as you fall into the habit. Say, 200 words a day. Or 1000 words a week (because in all honesty you might miss a day here and there, and you shouldn’t get down on yourself for that, either). I personally shoot for 1000 words on days when I write, but I’ve been doing this for more than a decade now. I don’t always make it, but sometimes I double that, or quintuple it, or more. And I have scheduled days off (Supernatural nights when new episodes air, and usually the day after, and Monday night when I play pub trivia and it’s Mr. Mittens’ night off work). But outside of those days, barring extreme exhaustion or illness, I try to write at least 1000 words a night.

Being that I’m not an outliner, I feel I need to say that I always know the whole story before I start writing. It’s all up inside my head, running like a film that I “transcribe” into a fic. So even if I don’t have a written, bullet-pointed list of plot points and emotional beats, I do have the “finished product” looping through my head continuously until I transcribe it all. I know that’s not actually useful writing advice for most people, and I have no idea if this is how anyone else approaches writing, but it’s how it works for me. Minor details may only show up while I’m writing, but the whole story is already there.

This is why I never, ever post incomplete, wip fic. I am a compulsive editor, mostly because I don’t create detailed outlines before I start, and for the sake of continuity, editing is my friend. Can’t go back to insert a reference into chapter 3 that will become important by chapter 14 if you posted chapter 3 half a year ago, you know? Your readers are not gonna go back and reread your updates when you remember that Important Detail never actually made it onto the page in the exact way you needed it to way back when. :P

Now, an outliner MAY have picked that detail up and inserted it before they ever started writing, but one thing folks might not understand until they actually start writing: Actually writing the thing out, making it flesh and letting it breathe, will inherently change your two-dimensional outline. I’m not saying that your plot will derail itself, but only once you begin bringing the story to life, begin living on the page through the characters, will you begin to feel them as living beings, and can really begin to understand them and make them feel real to readers. No outline can do this, and will always fall short of feeling “good enough” for this reason.

(sorry, a lot of how I feel about writing sounds slightly unhinged when I try to talk about it, so please remember that the first original novel I wrote was based on a recurring nightmare I had after a psychotic break, which I literally wrote as therapy to banish the Bad Thoughts. Yes, it worked. Yes, that’s why I still write this way more than a decade later.)

But this is where you’ll begin to fill in the “gaps” inherent in any outline. Personality quirks, inside jokes between characters, feeling their feelings and translating that to the page. But also picking up all the dangling threads like repeating themes and emotional triggers.

I think I’ve gone way far off the path here…

Basically, pick one of your outlines. Decide you’re gonna start writing it. Then start writing it. It’s that simple, and that seemingly impossible. Write one sentence. Then write another. Then write lots more.

Good luck! I know it’s terrifying. I’m terrified every time I pick a new fic idea to write and stare at that blank document. But I stare it down, give a hearty pterodactyl screech, and dive bomb the keyboard. It’s really the only way to do it.

It’s worked pretty well for me so far. :P

[darnedchild]

Universally Monstrous - The Phantom of the Opera

It’s Sherlolly Halloween. This year I’m playing around with short ficlets loosely based off the classic Universal Monsters.

Universally Monstrous

The Phantom of the Opera

It was a well-known secret that New Scotland Yard was haunted.

Or “haunted” if you talked to certain people.

The Phantom—as he had been christened by someone who obviously spent far too much time reading paranormal fiction and not enough doing their job—seemed to favour the basement level of the building.  

Whispered tales of a rare disembodied voice offering biting criticism and unwanted advice routinely made the rounds through the locker room.

“He said it was criminal that I was allowed in the lab,” Anderson had groused over a shared bag of crisps during an impromptu gossip session after a departmental meeting. 

One of the lab techs rolled his eyes.  “Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure the Phantom isn’t the only one who thinks that.  Have you talked to Donovan lately or are you two still fighting?”

Anderson ignored the other man.  “I’m not kidding, Hooper.  When I checked the shadows to find the owner of the voice, they were empty. The Phantom is real.”

Molly might have scoffed if she hadn’t heard the voice herself.

The first time she’d thought it was a prank, one of the other’s playing a joke on the new hire.  

She’d been sitting at her desk during her lunchbreak, working on the first draft of the fictional crime novel (with a hint of romance between the feisty pathologist and the gruff cop with a heart of gold and abs of steel) that had been screaming “Write me!” in her brain for the last few years.

Molly had been slogging away at a particularly frustrating scene, one that delved into the mind and motives of the murderer, when the need for something caffeinated and bag of crisps grew too great to ignore. She’d minimized her document and headed toward the cafeteria.  When she’d returned twenty minutes later her manuscript was open on the laptop screen, front and centre, and someone had left a long and detailed paragraph of where she’d left off.

“What the hell?”  She’d been extremely annoyed that one of her co-workers had invaded her privacy like that and was mentally preparing the bollocksing of the century when the Voice spoke.

“That’s not how he’d think.  Your killer.”  

Molly had jumped, “Who are you?  Where are you?”

“Don’t be dull,” the Voice admonished her as if it—he—was disappointed in her response.  “You know who I am, I hear you lot chattering on about me all the time.”

She huffed.  “We don’t chatter.”  Molly was met with silence for several seconds.  “Well, I don’t, at any rate.”

“True.  You do tend to hold your tongue when the some of the others begin to wax poetic about the most ridiculous things.”  She’d thought the Voice had been coming from the left before, but now it was clearly coming from the right.

Molly turned a full circle to look for someplace an adult (for he definitely had the deep, smooth voice of a man) could hide. She even ducked to look under the desk.

“Your villain’s thoughts are far too chaotic and disjointed for the methodical serial killer you’ve set him up as.”

“How would you know?”  Could the stories be true?  Was there really a ghost haunting Forensics?  “Is this what you did in a past life?  Get into the minds of criminals?  Did you work down here, or maybe as detective?”

She thought she heard him laugh, and the husky sound caused a sensation like the touch of warm fingers softly brushing up her spine. She shuddered as he spoke again, “Something like that.”

“So, is this one of those ‘unfinished business’ things, or…”  

Molly held her breath and waited but silence was her only answer.

Two weeks later she was sitting at her desk, transcribing her notes from the latest autopsy when she heard, “Excellent catch on the Marshall case.”

“Thanks.  I thought it was a long shot, but what could it hurt to run an extra test or two so-“ Her body recognized his voice before her brain did.  Her skin tingled and something at her core warmed even as she spun in her chair to search the room with her eyes.  

Three days after that, she’d been working on her novel during another lunch break—she’d taken the Phantom’s advice and completely reworked the scene with her villain’s inner thoughts—when she realized she wasn’t completely alone.  Her hands stilled on the keyboard.  “Hello.”

Molly heard him draw in a startled breath somewhere behind her.  “How did you know I was here?”

“You’re not as stealthy as you think.”  She slowly turned, completely unsurprised to see that the room was empty.  Still, she felt that he was nearby.  “I noticed a . . . scent after your last two visits.”  It had been clean and masculine, not clouded with cologne or the musky bodywashes that were popular amongst the male staff.  “And there was a creak, something shifted under your weight this time.”

He was silent for so long she began to worry he might have left again.  “Interesting.”  She got the feeling he was watching her, studying her.

“You, uh, you’re not a ghost, are you?”  Molly almost tripped over her words.

“Of course not.  Didn’t you know, ghosts don’t exist.”  He seemed amused.

She heard another creak and her eyes darted around the room, hoping to pinpoint where the noise was coming from.  “So you just lurk, then.  For fun, or . . .”

“I observe.”  As if that explained anything.  “Some of your co-workers are idiots.  Most of them.”

Molly opened her mouth to argue then shrugged. He wasn’t exactly wrong.  “Still, I’m pretty sure what you’re doing isn’t exactly legal.  For a vast number of reasons.”

He laughed again, and it made her shudder just like the last time.  A good shudder.  The kind that was going to keep her awake thinking the sort of things she shouldn’t. “I’ve never been worried about legalities.”

“Aren’t you worried I’m going to run upstairs and report you?” she asked.

“Are you?”  The Phantom’s seemed to come from directly behind her, which was impossible as her desk was set against a wall.  She didn’t bother turning around as he continued to speak.  “Would it make you feel better to know at least one Detective Inspector is aware of my secret, and has been for nearly as long as I’ve been ‘haunting’ the halls.”

It did actually.  “Do I know them?”

“Possibly.  His name is Lestrade.”

“Oh, I’ve worked with him!”  He’d come looking for her six months before, requesting her assistance with a particularly brutal double homicide.  “Wait, did you-?”

He hummed, a noncommittal answer if she’d ever heard one.

“Am I allowed you know your name?  You obviously know mine and I can’t keep calling you the Phantom like some 1920’s horror movie.”  She bit her lip.

After a long moment, he answered.  “It’s Sherlock.”

“Sherlock,” Molly tested the word, rolled it around on her tongue like a decadent treat.  She swallowed hard and lifted her chin.  “So now that I know you’re real, are you going to show yourself?”

Silence.  He was gone. “Okay.  I’ll take that as a no.”

Over the next few months she slowly stopped joining her co-workers in the cafeteria for lunch or the afternoon break, telling herself she was choosing to stay in her office to work on her novel.

That Sherlock had become a semi-regular visitor at those times had nothing to do with it.

Right?

She often found herself verbally working out plot points and dialogue, smiling when the disembodied Voice occasionally replied to offer suggestions or encouraged her to think through the moment with only a bit of gentle prodding and praise.  Even better, as far as she was concerned, they’d begun to speak of other things. Her life outside of work, bits and pieces of his (although he still kept a tight lip on most everything), books they’d read (they were both voracious readers), all sorts of little things that had begun to add up.

“So this is going to be one of the really difficult bits for me to write.”  Molly leaned back in her chair and pushed away from her desk on the squeaky wheels so she could spin around in a lazy circle.  They’d been talking for nearly half an hour.  “There’s been this building sexual tension between Brandon and Rachel almost from the moment the first met.  Now they’ve just survived a near death experience, emotions are high, the attraction is there.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything and Molly sighed.  “I know, it’s a cliché but it just seems right at this point in their relationship.  But I’ve never really done that.  Well, I mean, I’ve done that; just not the passionate, all consuming kind of . . . that.”

He still remained silent.  She couldn’t help but fidget.  “It’s just, it’s been a long time and even then it was more of a ‘let’s scratch this itch’ than a ‘take me against the wall right this second’ thing. God, I think my ex Tom would have hurt himself laughing if I even dared to suggest it.  If anything it was boring and I just wanted to get it over with so I could see if there was anything good on the telly.  And I have absolutely no idea why I’m telling you any of this.”

“I’m not really sure why you’re doing it, either. What is it you want from me, Molly?” He sounded almost as uncomfortable as she felt.  Not for the first time, she wished she could see his face to better read his emotions.

“Well, you’re . . . You’ve got that voice.  And you’re smart.  And you have a wicked sense of humour.  I know you hang around here most of the time, but surely you-you’ve . . . I can’t imagine there would be a mad scramble for the remote with you.  That is, with you and-and the person you were with. So, I was hoping you could help reel me in if I get a little too . . . unrealistic?  With the scene?”  That was it. She was going to go home and drown her embarrassment in a carton of cookies and cream ice cream and try to pretend she’d never started this conversation.

He sighed.  “Molly, I don’t know what you imagine I do when I’m not here, but I am absolutely positive it isn’t whatever you think it is.”

“What?”

“Fuck it,” Sherlock sighed.  The large shelving unit that was bolted to the wall slowly swung inward to reveal a dark doorway.  She could just make out a tall figure standing in the shadows.  

Molly got to her feet as he stepped into the room and she saw him clearly for the first time.  He was tall and fit, dark but impeccably tailored clothes, a mop of soft looking curls, and a strange black mask that covered the left half of his face.

“Is this supposed to be a joke?” she asked.  She’d referenced the old Phantom of the Opera movie before, did he take that as a challenge?  Was he making fun of her?

“I wish it was.”  Sherlock lowered his head and reached up to carefully remove his mask. He took a deep breath before he lifted his face and turned toward her fully.

Whatever had happened to him had ruined half of his face.  He was lucky he was still able to see out of his left eye.  “How?”

“Acid.  I’d barely begun working with Lestrade as a Consulting Detective—you wouldn’t have heard of the term, I invented the position—and the abusive husband of one of my clients decided to get his revenge.  It could have been worse.  As you noticed, I was able to keep my eye and my mouth and vocal cords were virtually undamaged.  Believe it or not, I was even more of a socially inept arsehole and my interest in relationships had been virtually non-existent before the incident.  And then this happened.”  He gestured to his face.  “You can see how off putting this is to another person.  It was easier to seclude myself than deal with people every day.”

Molly had questions.  A lot of questions.  “Okay, I get the wanting to stay away from other people thing, but how in the heck did you get a secret door in the basement of Scotland Yard?”  

“Doors, plural.  I have a contact in the government and a massive trust fund.”  He blinked at her.  “Why haven’t you run off or retched on your shoes?  Why are you pretending this doesn’t bother you?”

“Last week I had to do a post-mortem on a floater who had been in the Thames for several weeks.  A disfiguring facial injury and healed scar tissue is nothing in comparison.” She bit her lip and took a step closer. “Could I-Would it be all right if I-“

“Touch my face?” Sherlock asked at the same time Molly worked up the nerve to say, “Get a tour of your underground supervillain lair after my shift ends?”

They stared at each other for a long moment before he nodded.  “I guess that would be acceptable.  As long as no one saw you roaming the halls after you were supposed to be gone.  As incompetent as most of the idiots upstairs can be, they are trained law enforcement officers.”  

Molly smiled.  “One more question, and this one is super important.  Can you get wi-fi down there?"

[secrethauntedcollect]

McElroy feelings

takin a look at our boys moon placements and how they describe their own emotions via the MBMBAM podcast (link to exact segment I quote below). They got a question from a reader about learning to communicate their feelings better. Their answers are a pretty good display of their moon signs and whatever aspects their moons make. Let’s give it a look!!!!!

Since I have no birth time or exact location for these, I do not know their rising sign or the house placements. This would probably help a lot, especially in figuring out how Travis is a capricorn moon and a big crier. (I’m a capricorn moon and I probably cry once ever two years)

Justin: Scorpio Moon (house unknown)

moon conjunct Uranus (exact)

“My problem a lot of times, and I’ve only learned this as I’ve gotten older, is that I, a lot of times, I don’t know how I feel. Like I don’t—until I talk about it and like say the wrong thing several times, like trying to get—it’s like a mystery. I’ll be—I’ll know somethin’s up, but I won’t know what it is that I’m feeling. I’m not in touch with those feelings.”

“For me [just stating feelings] is not that easy. I don’t, like a lot of times I don’t know, like, I’ll be short with somebody, right, or I’ll be—I’m, I know I’m not having as much pleasure as I normally do, and I don’t know why. And for me that could be hard because I don’t want to say—I’ll end up saying stuff that I don’t actually feel just like trying to get to something that feels—” (Griffin interrupts and yells “I JUST WANT PLEASURE”) “Yeah, pleasure! I just want pleasure!”

“I think about death a lot.”

Justin’s moon seems like the house is really important here; Scorpio moon is usually very intense feelings, but not necessarily ambiguous ones. He also mentions, in a segment I didn’t transcribe because I’m too tired to, that he could be easy to influence re: what he’s feeling. This sounds familiar to me as a 12th house moon, and is more the domain of Neptune than Uranus. I’m not entirely sure how his Moon/Uranus exact conjunction really figures into this, oddly enough.

Travis: Capricorn Moon (house unknown)

square Venus and Mars in Virgo; conjunct Neptune in Sag

“I cry often and freely”

“Since I’ve been with Theresa I’ve gotten better at expressing emotions because instead of just like swallowing down or not acknowledging it, like, as we’ll talk about it, I’ll say out loud like, ‘I want you to know that I am feeling angry right now and this is why.’ So I don’t think it has to be emotional in the sharing of your emotions, sometimes it’s just being honest and saying like ‘right now in this moment, I am annoyed because of this’ or like ‘hey, I just wanted you to know, I’m really enjoying this moment.” (to which Justin says: “Oh yeah, that’s good, cause that’ll give her that ‘not quite human’ vibe.”)

“You know, my wife has just taught me, I had no idea, like, so much of my emotions are hunger based. Like I had no idea, like, when we were in [city name i can’t understand] we stopped for lunch and like a really late lunch at like 3 o’clock, and I’m eating this sandwich and she’s like ‘Do you feel better?’ and like yeah, what? Wait, why? She’s like, ‘well you’ve just been kinda frustrated for the last two hours.’ and I was like ‘yeah it’s just cause we couldn’t find the place and you know,’ and she said ‘no it’s because you were hungry’ and t’s like oh! You’re right. Just needed sandwich.”

Dryly expressing emotions, yup. That’s a cap moon. What the fuck is his house placement tho that lets him cry all the time?

Griffin: Sagittarius Moon (house unknown)

trine Mercury in Aries

“I have no problem expressing my feelings. At any given time at the drop of the hat I’ll just do it.” (Very very very much the Mercury trine Moon. I’ve also got this! But I have a weird moon house placement that kinda screws with it too)

“I mostly… I just take a lot of naps. When it gets a little bit too real… a little bit too hi-fi in my life—in my li-fi, I’ll just take a quick naparoo. Cause you know what, it worked when I was four… and I’m twenty six now and it still works pretty goddamned well and I wake up and my wife is like ’how are you doing’ and the answer is always ‘great!’”

“I don’t have like, I really do think I don’t have that many complex emotions. I don’t want to sound like I’m, like, a free spirit or whatever over here but like, I never feel like I have emotions that are too complex to describe. Usually it really is, like, ‘How are you Griffin?’ ‘I dunno, kinda bored.’ Like… I’m not joking, like I’m not like ‘I’ve been thinking a lot about death a lot lately’ like it’s really mostly like ‘I dunno, the cat woke me up last night so I’m a little bit sleepy.’”

The last quote is funny because Sagittarius is the “free spirit” of the zodiac. I’ve never had a good handle on sag moon, though I’ve got two sag moon friends. What the house is here is anyone’s guess (maybe an air house?)

That’s all folks.

[freebullets]

Vmin, Call Me a Sinner

Jimin sighed as a pair of baleful brown eyes peeked at himfrom just over the edge of the counter. “Can I help you, Taehyung?”

“Right, so, ugh…we may have left a mess,” Taehyung said,cheeks tinged pink and a thin mist of sweat beading on his forehead. He stoodfrom where he’d been squatting, bath robe falling loosely from one shoulder. Theedge of a purple hickey peeked from just under the fluffy collar.

“Again?” Jiminfrowned, setting down the guest book he’d been transcribing into the computersystem. “Which room?”

“438,” Taehyung muttered, ducking his head.

“I’m charging it to your guest’scard,” Jimin said, scribbling the number on a sticky note.

“But umm…” Taehyung said. “Is there any way you could…not do that?”

“No!” Jimin huffed. “Pick a different hotel to stay at,then!”

“This is barely a hotel,” Taehyung said, eyes flicking tothe bright pink LOVE NEST sign hangingover the lobby.

“Don’t come back, then,” Jimin sniffed, walking around thecounter to reorganize the snacks and…other things available for purchase infront of the desk.

“Aw, come on, Jiminnie!” Taehyung wheedled. “I can’t losethis guy, he hits me up at least once a week.”

“A client who can’t afford to pay for the damage he does to my hotel isn’t worth your time,” Jiminsaid.

“They like it when I get all big and bad and rough,”Taehyung whined. “It was an accident!”

Jimin scoffed. “You?Big and bad? And I don’t care if it was an accident or on purpose! It stillhappened and somebody is still paying for it.”

“Ugh,” Taehyung groaned. “You’re the worst.”

“You’re really bad at getting on people’s good sides, aren’tyou?” Jimin said.

The air was forced from his lungs as Taehyung spun him around,back pressed painfully into the check-in desk. Taehyung was practically on topof him, their noses centimeters apart as he pushed his knee lightly againstJimin’s groin. “Jiminnie,” Taehyung said, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Thereare other ways I could pay you back.”

Heat flared in Jimin’s gut for the briefest of momentsbefore he rolled his eyes, centered by the pain radiating from various pointson his body. “Except I know exactly where your hands and parts have been,”Jimin said, pushing Taehyung back and meeting no resistance as the boy gave tothe pressure. “Besides, I have a boyfriend.”

“You mean the one that gave you that shiner a few weeks ago?”Taehyung said softly.

Jimin stiffened, returning to his place behind the counter. “That’snone of your business. And that was a rowdy customer.”

“You’re such a liar, Jiminnie,” Taehyung sighed, rubbing athis bare shoulder. “Ah, well, I tried. Offer’s still open any time you want it.There’s a reason I’m highly sought after, you know.”

“You are until you open your mouth,” Jimin muttered.

“Even more afterthat,” Taehyung said, offering him a salacious wink.

“Gross,” Jimin said, grimacing. He glanced at the clock onthe computer display. “Your three hours are almost up, by the way.”

“Such a hardass!” Taehyung groaned. “And I’m prettyconfident when I say that, cause I’ve spent a long time staring at it.”

“Can you be a normal human being for like two seconds?”Jimin sighed.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Taehyung laughed.

“Jimin-ah?” a deep voice called, and both Jimin and Taehyungturned their heads to the front door, which had been stealthily opened.

“Hyung?” Jimin perked up, feeling strangely guilty. “Whatare you doing here? I thought you couldn’t get away from work till latertonight.”

“My schedule cleared up,” Namjoon said, glancing between thetwo of them with a questioning look. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, no one, just—“

“Kim Taehyung!” Taehyung said, sauntering over to Namjoonwith his usual painted smirk. “I’m a regular.”

“A regular,” Namjoon repeated, brow furrowed.

“Taehyung!” Jimin hissed, anxiety expanding to press tightlyagainst the walls of his chest.

“I fuck a lot of people here,” Taehyung said bluntly. “Speakingof which, I should probably grab my stuff before hardass over here kicks meout.” Taehyung turned on his heel, robe fluttering in his wake.

Jimin sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead at Namjoon’sscandalized expression. “Sorry about him.”

“I thought you said this place was for honeymooners,”Namjoon said, approaching the counter.

“It is,” Jimin said. “It also…rents by the hour.”

“See, you left that part out,” Namjoon said.

“It’s not like I’m renting the rooms for myself!” Jiminsaid, annoyed. “Why does it matter?”

“It matters because I don’t like that you’re exposed tothese kinds of people,” Namjoon said, expression hardening.

“Whoring isn’t contagious,” Jimin sighed. “It’s just anotherway people make a living.”

“Jimin,” Namjoon said darkly.

“I still have a few hours left on my shift, anyway,” Jiminsaid, suddenly nervous. “I’ll see you back at home.”

“Jimin, can’t you just quit?” Namjoon said, eyes softening. “Youknow I have more than enough to support both of us.”

“Besides the fact that I’d be completely bored out of mymind?” Jimin said incredulously. “I don’t want you to support both of us. Iwant us to support both of us.”

“You’re so ridiculous!” Namjoon said, fist making a loudsound as it struck the marble countertop. Jimin felt his heart attempt to leapout of his chest. It was true. He was ridiculous. Why was he so nervous?Namjoon just wanted the best for him. That was what he always wanted. It’s notlike Namjoon would ever mistreat him. He never had.

“Yah,” Taehyung said, face dark as he bodily shoved Namjoonbackwards and away from the counter. “The fuck is your problem, man?”

Namjoon’s face morphed from surprised to disbelieving toincredibly pissed off. “Me? What’s your problem?”

“You. Threatening my friend,” Taehyung said simply.

“D-don’t—“ Jimin tried to de-escalate the situation, but hewas ignored.

“I wasn’t threateningmy significant other,” Namjoon said, fingers curling into fists. “We werehaving an adult conversation.”

“Then explain that terrified look on his face,” Taehyungsaid. “That’s not who he is! He only gets like that when you’re around! TheJimin I know is funny and smart and sweet, but when you’re here, he shuts down!That’s bullshit!”

Namjoon hesitated, face conflicted as he glanced betweenTaehyung and Jimin. “Wh…what? Is that true?”

“No! Joon, just—“ Jimin swallowed. “We’ll talk about when Iget home, okay?”

Namjoon opened his mouth, as though to say something, butthen decided against it, shaking his head. “Fine.” He left without anotherword.

“What the fuck was that?!” Jimin yelled.

“See?” Taehyung pointed out. “You aren’t real when he’saround. I think you need to start asking yourself why that is.”

[collecting-stories]

Two Weeks - Tommy Shelby

Request: Could you do the movie "Two Week Notice" in the Peaky Blinders universe?? where Tommy relays too much on his assistant which drives her crazy, then she quits and they search for a replacement. - @samascara 

Two Weeks - Tommy Shelby

It was five o’clock in the morning. Or at least it had been when banging on your door had woken you and possibly all your neighbours. You had dressed quickly, opened the door, and found one of Tommy Shelby's men standing in the hallway.  

“Ma’am,” he tipped his cap to you, “Mr. Shelby says it's urgent.”  

“Does he?” You were certain the sarcasm was evident in your voice. Even so you followed the Blinder out to a car that was waiting for you.  

Tommy only seemed to have great business epiphanies in the middle of the night when normal people  were asleep and you were forced to get up and go to his house to hear him talk about the latest innovation to his business. Tonight was the night, or the very early morning, that you were going to quit. You were going to tell Tommy Shelby it was nice doing business with him but he was a selfish prick that was now out a secretary.

You had told yourself plenty of times before that you were going to quit but the moment you walked through the doors to his office he would begin talking and then suddenly it was nearing nine in the morning and he was asking you to stay for breakfast. It was a rather embarrassing, especially because everyone seemed to think you were sleeping with Tommy. Which, while you certainly weren't against sleeping with Tommy you were definitely not doing that.  

"Mr. Shelby," you greeted, closing the door to his office behind you. "Before we start, may I speak?"

All of what you said next was a lie. Tommy stood there, expressionless, listening as you claimed to have found a new job and told him that this was your last night transcribing for him. "So, while I've enjoyed working for you and I will obviously use the utmost discretion in mentioning the nature of your work in the future."  

This was your last night working for Shelby Brother's Limited but you hadn't found a new job yet. You just had to get out. Tommy was driving you mad and the longer you stayed his employee the more of your sanity was lost. Anything, you reasoned, had to be better than working for someone who took this much of you for granted. He called you all hours of the day and night. He made you transfer money places that were rather unsafe and, when you voiced concern, simply handed over a gun that you were supposed to carry.  

"If you feel you must leave." Tommy commented, offering the smallest hint of a shrug. He was indifferent, how hard could it be to find a secretary willing to work for the Shelby Brothers.  

"I do." You nodded.  

"Well then, before you go, I just want to go over this recent expansion plan, could you write this down?" And then he was off, launching right back into business mode.  

You sat down at the desk, beginning to transcribe as he continued you speak. You had promised him this one last opportunity to drive you completely mad. He was happy to take it, keeping you in the office well into the day as his transcription need turned into a business meeting he needed you to be present for. By the time you left it was nearly dinner. Exhausted, you simply went home and collapsed on your bed.  

It wasn’t until 3am that you woke up again, alarmed by a loud knocking on your door. You pulled on a dressing gown and opened the door to see the same man from the night before.

"Morning ma'am, Mr. Shelby needs you."

"Tell Mr. Shelby, I know I didn’t write it down so maybe he's having trouble remembering but I've quit." You answered. You began to shut the door but the Blinder who'd been sent to collect you put his hand out, stopping you.  

"Ma'am, it's early, I don't want to upset Tommy." He said, trying to reason with you.

"I don't care. I quit, so let go of my door or I will shoot you in the hand." You commented.  

He let go of the door and you slammed it shut, being sure to lock it. You couldn’t believe Tommy's nerve, you had been perfectly clear that you were no longer working for him and yet he sent some around to get you anyway. As if your words meant nothing to him.  

In the weeks following you assumed Tommy had taken the hint. After the first three nights he stopped sending men to your door to drive you to his home. In fact neither of you saw each other at all. You heard from Lizzie that he'd hired a new woman to act as secretary. You found another job balancing books for an office. It was 9 to 5, something you appreciated, but it was boring.  

Since leaving Tommy's business you'd acquired a steady job and had even begun to see someone. He was nice, he was a copper in Small Heath, very by the book about everything. You thought he was a nice change from Tommy even though you had never dated Tommy and couldn’t technically compare the two.  

While things were looking better for you they had gotten worse for Tommy. He'd been through four separate secretaries in the weeks since you'd quit on him. Each one was worse than the one before. The first one had a tendency to run her mouth, the second kept trying to sleep with John and Esme had nearly murdered her, the third couldn’t read and therefore couldn't write either, and the fourth was always late. Tommy fired each one quicker than the last. It was getting to the point that he was stuck doing the work himself.  

"I know it's not my place but you should just talk to her, maybe she'll forgive you." Esme commented, peering into the office. Tommy was shuffling through stacks of paper looking for a letter that had come down from London.  

"If you have to start your sentence with 'it's not my place' then you shouldn’t say anything at all." Tommy commented, "and I have nothing to apologize for. She quit."  

"Because you were fucking awful to her." Esme retorted.  

"John! Getting your fucking wife out of my office!" Tommy hollered, glaring at his sister in law.

"I know where the door is." She said, making her way out of the office.

Despite being annoyed by Esme's intrusion into both his office and his personal life Tommy couldn’t help but be bothered by what she had said. His business hadn't felt the effects of your departure quite yet but he had and he was certain it was only a matter of time. He was certainly suffering from the loss of your employment. He felt as though he was doing twice the work that he typically did and he could never seem to find anything when he needed it.  

So Tommy finished work early one night and took the car into town. He knew where you lived but he had never actually visited the building himself. It looked very similar to the houses on the row but the rooms inside were divvied up into flats. You lived on the second floor, the only room on that landing. Tommy knocked, glancing around the rather unkept stairwell.  

You had just gotten in from a date and were surprised to hear the door. You thought maybe it was the man you'd been seeing. After having been shot down when you invited him up to your room you had made a quick exit. Maybe he had changed his mind and was coming up afterall.  

You opened the door only to find Tommy Shelby standing there. "Mr. Shelby."

"Tommy, please." He replied, letting himself into your flat.

"Tommy, can I ask what you're doing here?" You asked, closing the door.  

"I've been thinking, would you consider coming back if a raise in your pay was on the table?" He bargained.  

"I didn’t leave because the pay was bad."  

"May I smoke in here?" He asked, already lighting a cigarette.

"Tommy, I left because I was unhappy with the job."

He glanced over at you, looking rather confused that anyone would be unhappy with their job working for him. He considered himself a fair employer and he always took care of his own. Men left his business because they died not because they wanted to.  

"You sent people to my house all hours of the night, dragging me from bed because you wanted to talk my ear off. Or you wanted me picking up money from different areas around the city, not concerned in the slightest for my safety. I had no life outside of working for you. Yes, you paid well but my new job isn't so bad, I've even started seeing someone." You stated.

"I know." Tommy replied. He had looked into both your new employer and your new boyfriend. He was rather displeased with both of them. You new employer had a gambling problem and often skimmed off his employees pay in order to feed his habit. Your new boyfriend patrolled Small Heath but lived the next district over with a wife and child. Though he knew he could use that information against you he said nothing about it, not wanting to hurt you in the process of getting you back.

"Tommy, I appreciate you stopping by but I think it's better you left."

"None of the other secretaries I've hired have worked out. They're terrible honestly. Every single one so far as been awful. I'm not a begging man but I'm willing to if it means you'll come back to work."  

You wanted to tell him you'd think about it. You forgot how much, despite being driven crazy, you enjoyed just being in the same room as him. But you knew that Tommy was just saying these things to get you back. He would go right back to his old behaviour. "I can't."

"Alright...and this doesn’t leave this room...I need you. Please, reconsider."  

"I'm sorry, what was that?" You almost laughed. "That was hardly begging."

"Honestly."  

"I can't Tommy, you're good at talking but you won't change anything." You replied.

"It will, you can set your hours and I won't make you run money anymore. But I need you, you're crucial to the business." He answered. You were a rather crucial part of his life as well but he would keep that to himself.

You hated the job you had now and spending time with Tommy on your terms seemed rather tempting. "I'll give you my terms and conditions on Monday. If you don't follow them then I'll leave again and you'll be stuck with whoever you can get."  

"Very well." He paused, flicking his finished cigarette into the fireplace. "Now, since you're already dressed, would you be interested in accompanying me to dinner?"

"What?"

"I'm asking you out to dinner." Tommy repeated, lighting another cigarette.

"I just got in from a date."

"Which, judging by the state of you, could have ended better." He replied.  

He walked out of your room, you following behind him. "What's that even supposed to mean? It was a lovely evening!" You felt the need to defend a date you weren't even that invested in.  

"I'm sure it was I just mean," Tommy stopped in the stairwell and turned to look at you, "I wouldn’t have left you at home by yourself when you're looking like that."  

"Oh really?" You rolled your eyes, assuming immediately that he was just trying to get a rise out of you.

"First, the evening will end at my house. And, if any form of goodwill or luck is on my side, you'll be out of that dress." He answered.  

He walked the rest of the way down the stairs and made it all the way to the front door before stopping again. You were still stood on the stairwell, rather shocked by his admission.  

"Are you coming?" Tommy asked, glancing back at you.  

Tommy Shelby was going to take you out to dinner and then, possibly, take you home with him. "Yes!" You hurried down the stairs the rest of the way, following Tommy out into the night.

Tommy Shelby: telling women he’s going to have sex with them since 1919. 

tagged: @weirdnewbie @clairyfaiiry @ducks-are-kwl @photograiphy-00 @crowleyismybabycakes @ifoundmyhappythought @baygabb @smashablepieces @diborbi 

[marvelous-heroimagines]

Tough

Requested by: Anonymous (Here are the specifics)

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Word Count: 2.6K Warnings: Angst, swearing

A/N: Sorry this is so late! Life’s been busy as lately! I hope I did okay

Your eyes bore into the computer monitor glaring back at you. You were beyond exhausted, but you knew that if you tried to take a day off, Nick Fury would find you and probably kill you. You’ve been imprisoned as a S.H.I.E.L.D. desk jockey for 3 months by now, and you regret agreeing to Fury’s ultimatum. You’d thought that committing yourself to a desk job at S.H.I.E.L.D. would be better than being stuck in an actual jail cell; but by now you felt like they were the same thing.

When you started off at S.H.I.E.LD. you had convinced yourself that you were done with your vigilante ways, that you were setting yourself on a righteous path. But it took less than 2 weeks before you were pulling on a black hoodie and fighting against the injustice that thrived in New York City. Ironically, Fury’s genius idea of punishing you with a desk job actually made it easier to get justice. Thanks to the mind-numbingly simplicity of your pencil-pushing job, it made finding your victims all that much easier, while still completing your tasks. Before working at S.H.I.E.L.D you had to hack your way around their servers, finding shady business people on their low priority list; but now you had direct access.

“Y/N,” your superior’s voice draws your attention from your computer, “I need you to transcribe these minutes from today’s meeting and send them to Secretary Ross,”

“Absolutely, sir,” you say in a sweet, high pitched voice, “I’ll get on that right away,” you flash your superior a wide smile as he places the notes on your desk and shuffles out of your office.

‘Prick,’ you silently think as you grab the notes and start typing them up. Even though you were breaking all the rules in your agreement to avoid jail, you maintained a sweet, innocent demeanour. It was a key part of you not getting caught and ending up in The Raft. You were a ‘Yes-woman’ and it made your skin crawl, but every time you had to sweetly smile at one of the empty-headed sheep that worked with you, you remind yourself that being at S.H.I.E.L.D made your real job easier, and gave you a cover of anonymity.

Making sure to jot down the name and address of your next target, you quickly erase all trace that you had accessed parts of the database that you were forbidden from. You quickly jump up and grab your coat and bag, eager to get out of your own personal jail and out onto the streets, where you could do some real good.

You glance left as you turn right and rush out of your office. You’re knocked onto your ass, having run into something that felt like a brick wall. You let out an annoyed huff and scurry to grab your things, that had been thrown everywhere.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” a deep voice sounds, telling you that it was a person and not a literal brick wall that had knocked you flat on your ass.

You glance up, your brows furrowing and jaw clenching with anger, and see The Winter Soldier gazing down at you, a small, apologetic smile on his lips. He extends his metal arm down to you, offering to help you up. But you ignore it and push yourself off the floor.

“Yeah, well look where you’re going next time,” you spit, not caring who James Barnes was or what everyone said he did. You didn’t care if he was James or the Soldier right now. You were pissed off, and you’d take him on if he was the latter.

James pulls back, his metal arm falling limply to his side. He stares at you, his blue eyes searching your face. He looks as though he’s going to speak, but is interrupted by the appearance of Captain America and your superior. The moment you see your superior, you straighten up and force that vomit-inducing sweet smile onto your face.

“Ah, Y/N, I see you’ve just met Mr. Barnes,” your superior glances between you and James, “And this is Captain Rogers. They are here to take a tour of the new facility, make sure that we aren’t holding any captives in the basement,” your superior jokes.

You force yourself to let out a high pitched laugh, making sure it reaches your eyes, “Well, sir, I didn’t get to introduce myself to Mr. Barnes. We just sort of ran into each other,” you let out a force giggle, pretending like you were every other woman who met the super soldiers and immediately fell for their good looks and tightly coiled physiques.

James stares at you, with a mixed look of amusement and confusion on his features. He’s searching your face again, trying to figure out which you, you really were; the fake ass kisser or the short tempered firecracker he’d met moments before. You ignore his gaze and briefly introduce yourself properly to Steve and James.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” you need to get out of here. You’re still fuming from being knocked over by James and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep up the sweet innocent act, “I was just heading home. My couch and a tub of ice cream are waiting for me,” you lie.

You give the three men one last sweet, fake smile and roughly push past James, making sure to dig your shoulder into his bicep. It probably hurt you more than it hurt him, but it was all you could do from keeping yourself from yelling at the super soldier, or even hitting him. Your heels click quickly as you hurry towards the elevator.

Practically being able to taste your freedom for the night, you’re stopped abruptly by a thick hand closing around your bicep. You spin around, your instinct kicking in, and immediately grasp your attacker by the throat. James releases his hand, quickly throwing them both up in front of your face, showing you he meant no harm. You let out a breath that you didn’t realised you’d been holding, and release his throat.

“Woah there, little lady,” he chuckles, his eyes sparkling with amusement and wonder,

“Can I help you?” you spit, the anger in your stomach now bubbling furiously at the pathetic nickname he’d just given you,

“You dropped this,” your eyes flit to his extended hand. A lump rises in your throat as you recognise the piece of note paper. It was the note that you’d written your target’s name and address on.

Snatching the paper out of his hand, you don’t even bother with a thank you; only giving him a stiff nod.

“Thought you had a date with your couch and ice cream tonight?” he cocks an amused eyebrow at you,

“It’s none of your fucking business,” you spit, turning on your heel and practically running the rest of the way to the elevator.

The red light turns green, and a wicked smile breaks across your face. Slipping into the target’s office, make a beeline for the computer. Having already disabled the cameras and alarms, you were free to do your work and slip out. 

It only takes you 10 minutes to find a back door into the target’s business database; and another 5 to crack his password. ‘Password1234. Fucking idiot,’ you silently snicker. Glancing at your watch, you note that you only have 15 minutes to do your mission. ‘Cake walk,’ you tell yourself as you quickly work your way through the system and locate the target’s bank account.

Tonight’s target had been doing shady deals under the table, building faulty apartment buildings and never fulfilling his tenants requests when basic wiring or plumbing failed. It didn’t take long for the faulty buildings to completely crumble. The last building that collapsed trapped 8 people inside, and all 8 - including children - died. His business never saw punishment, most likely due to paying off everyone that tried to fight him.

It had to end now. Your gloved fingers glide over the keys; transferring every single dollar that the target or his business had. Most of the money went to charities, with generous amounts making their way to every family member that had suffered at the hands of the target’s business; information that was all plainly stored in the network.

Retracing your electronic steps, you erase any and every trace that you had even been in the system. The arsehole wasn’t going to know what’s hit him until his accountant told him that he was bankrupt. Glancing at your watch, you had 5 minutes to spare. You were getting better, if that was even possible. Smirking to yourself you slip out of the office and into the night.

You’re at work, mindlessly typing out more minutes, when the news breaks that the target’s business was completely bankrupt. It was suspected that there had been foul play, but no one had a clue how it even happened. You can’t hide your smile as you watch a breaking news broadcast, showing the target addressing the public; urging them to come forward with any information they had.

A few hours pass, and you still can’t keep the smile off your face. Until you glance up to see Tony Stark and James Barnes standing in your office doorway.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” you query in your fake, innocent voice. Tony takes the lead, stepping into your office and closing the door after James had entered,

“Don’t get me wrong,” Tony says with suave, “I am very impressed. I’d say you’re better than Romanoff,”

Your breathing hitches in your throat. You were caught. Somehow, they knew it was you; there was no question about it. But you make sure that your face remains neutral and you even throw in a confused frown for good measure.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” you drawl out, “But I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

“Barnes saw you,” Tony cuts right to the chase. Your eyes dart to James, who is looking amused and impressed; an expression you’ve seen on his face so often you assume it’s the only one he’s capable of, “And I don’t think Fury would be very impressed to find out that you’re still running around being Robin Hood in the streets,”

You cock your head to the side, dropping your innocent act, “Well, I’m not sure how much worse The Raft can be compared to this place,”

Tony chuckles, nodding his head in agreement as he glances around your bland office.

“So, do I get a phone call? Or is it straight to a cell?” you ask, your voice unwavering with confident and defiance,

“Neither,” Tony stares back at you, his voice matching yours with its finality, “You’re coming to the Compound,”

Your face flickers with confusion for a moment before you’re able to control it. This was not what you were expecting.

Wandering around the meeting room, your fingers glide over the countless books that lined the walls in floor to ceiling mahogany bookcases. Tony Stark had more money than the knew what to do with, he was lucky he was putting it to good use. Otherwise, you’d have to make an example out of the billionaire.

The sound of the door softly opening draws your attention. You watch as James, Steve, Tony and Natasha Romanoff file into the room. James and Tony are smiling, while Steve and Natasha are looking at you with caution. You square your shoulders and pull a random book, that your fingers had landed on, off the shelf.

The silence between you and half of the Avengers make the air thick, and you casually wander over to one of the couches. Sitting down, you start leafing through the book, keeping an unamused expression on your face.

“So,” Tony is the first to speak, “We want to discuss your vigilante activity last night,”

“How did you find out?” you abruptly ask, gazing up at the four Avengers that stood near the door,

“That would be me,” James smirks at you, and is the first to make his way to the couch opposite you. Tony is next to follow. But Steve and Natasha remain near the door, glaring at you.

You flip a page in the random book before glancing up at James, “Well, aren’t you more than just a pretty face?”

Tony tries to hide a laugh by coughing, and James only smirks at you, both men seeming amused at your nonchalant demeanour.

“What makes you feel like you have the right to… perform outside the law?” Steve asks in a commanding voice, stepping forward,

“What makes you feel like you have the right?” you retort, staring down Steve. He is the first to crack, breaking eye contact and shuffles uncomfortably on his feet, “I don’t hurt anyone. I bring entitled business people to justice who are literally destroying lives, and even taking them,”

“She’s not wrong,” James mumbles, glancing up at Steve; who only shoots a glare at him, “Come on, pal. You should have seen her, I’ve never seen anyone work that fast and leave undetected,”

“You were watching me?” you glare at James,

“I may have memorised the address on that piece of paper you dropped,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably at your stare,

“Why am I here?” you spit out, now looking to Tony. Tony glances between the three other members of his team, taking a moment to take in their expressions before turning back to you with a smile,

“We want to offer you a job,” he smirks,

“I have one,” you retort. You made sure to keep up your tough act, even though your heart had leaped at the offer. Anything to get you out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. shackles and keeping you in the job you really wanted,

“We both know you hate it there,” Tony chuckles, “You said it yourself,”

“Y/N,” James addresses you, “We could really use someone with your skill level on our team,”

“You have Romanoff,” you cock your head at him,

“You’re…” Natasha speaks for the first time. Her voice not as harsh as you’d expected, “You’re better than I am… When it comes to hacking,”

You take your time to look between the four of them, pretending to carefully weigh your options, when in reality you’d already made up your mind.

“Nick Fury is okay with this?” you ask, making sure to cover all your bases before you agree,

“It took some convincing,” Tony admits, “But he agreed that it would keep you out of trouble and out of prison,”

“What about my targets?” you ask,

“You can personally set up a team of your own, and assign them missions. But it has to be all above board,” Steve informs you.

You nod slowly, “Okay,” you simply say,

“You’re in?” James asks, raising his eyebrows at you. You give him a small nod, and for the first time, a small, genuine smile. He beams at you, before turning to his team mates and grinning at each of them.

‘He is cute,’ you finally admit to yourself as you watch his eyes crinkle at the side from his joy.

Tags: @redstarstan, @rosyfluffyprincess, @heismyhunter, @invisible2niall, @coffeeismylife28, @klutzly, @leahhavoc, @goldenlifevsgutter1996, @addictwithafandomblog, @hantu369mc, @aboveaverage-fangirl, @impala-moose, @plumsforbuck2016, @buckyandsebsinbin, @meep-meep22, @caitsymichelle13, @pleasefixthepain, @putinontheritzz, @iamaferitale

[vicissitude]

i'm having a shit time at school with people too, lay down the bollocks that's been happening over at your school

ho man ho boy i have a lot to talk about bc the last two days has been an absolute nightmare

[im putting it under a read more bc this is gonna get l o n g]

alright since the general election is coming up everybody at school is talking about their shit political opinions such as their opinions on jeremy corbyn who has indirectly been a catalyst to this fucking nightmare

so like everyone on my bus (except 1 person) hates him and someone mentioned how he wants to legalise weed and everyone went “oooh my god he’s gone looney!” “he’s out of his MIND!”

and its fucken annoying bc, as someone who’s not a fucking idiot i support legalising weed bc there’s no reason for a harmless plant to be illegal when it being legal would just be more helpful overall to everyone

and when i chip in telling people this everyone judges me for some reason??? everyone around me is anti weed for some fucking inane reason and when i ask them why it shouldn’t be legal their responses have been (and i WISH i was exaggerating):

“it’s weed”

“it makes you mental”

“it just shouldn’t be”

“ummm because we aren’t druggies?”

and this FUCKING GUY said that because i was swearing a lot i was purposely trying to be edgy or smthn like that and another girl said that bc i want weed to be legal and would like to try it (bc why not im not a fucking bore) she said to the other guy “oh she must have problems!” (i also got misgendered bc my little brother can call me his sister without being told off ever)

and LASTLY THE BITCH WHO HAS BEEN BUGGING ME ALL DAY WITH HER SHIT OPINIONS. the girl who keeps calling people who do weed “druggies” has literally no basis for her opinion and it drives me up the wall.

one time when we were talking about immigrants on the bus she was firmly anti-immigrant and said “well during wwii we didn’t run away! we stayed a fought!” so yeah ofc innocent families should stay behind in a fucking warzone and fight (and during wwii times women weren’t allowed to vote sit back down)

and the most i c o n i c thing she did when i asked her why we shouldn’t legalise weed we had a conversation that went roughly like this (which i have transcribed bc it’s fucking priceless):

her: more druggies means more people on health benefits

me: where are you getting this

her: the newspaper

me: the newspaper? which newspaper

her: the newspaper my parents read

im still in disbelief about that how can people believe this shit (it’s not like the reason “””””druggies”””””” usually need health benefits is bc their addiction is illegal and illegal markets aren’t regulated like legal markets so everythings bullshitty and expensive af)

yeah that went on for a while but it literally 2 days everyone’s revealed themselves to be a fucking garbage can