#i don’t play those files so it’s not like i’m juggling all these cats at once

[darkest-before-dawnclan]

How did you make the cast? You mentioned background characters and the like, are they all OCs or are they straight from the game?

The way I'm picturing it is randomly generating four Clans, killing off all but the apprentices in the last one, then taking all the apprenticed-aged from the first three and shoving them into the fourth one (and assigning the unassigned apprentices to whichever Clan seems to fit them). Is my imagination correct, or am I wayyyy off?

Also sick concept I'm excited to see the Beast kill for the first time :3

Tldr: All the characters were randomly generated by Clangen with little editing from me, aside from the main cast

First, for the main cast, I generated a clan and edited the file to make all the cats apprentices. I also changed all their names (they’re named after my friend group’s screen names)

Then I generated the three clans that the apprentices came from. These clans are where all the living bg characters are. I noted down cats who look similar to our main cast as I went, and decided from there which family members they would be

Then, when I started needing more cats for backstory, I generated a SECOND set of cats for each of the clans. All the cats in this second set are cats killed by the beast

I hope that makes sense lmao this was more complicated to write out than I expected

[sigfigscollective]

State of the Collective

Merry timezone everyone! We've been pretty quiet since our anniversary, so here's an update on what's been happening with us.

To begin with, a bunch of us graduated! We're so proud of our newly graduated Sig Figs, and thank them for juggling graduation requirements, life, and sig figs. Wish them well on the next part of their journey!

We've been busy in our discord server. Here are a few out of context quotes.

[ID: An edited screenshot of a discord channel called reply to voice. User mahal "key change chorus" (they) queues a file whose name is covered with a yellow block that says secret to the music bot with the username College Humor ! play. Mahal says "hi jackson I'm sad about Groovy. User jackson (he/him) says "hi why are you doing this. ahh". Mahal says "also this song slaps". Jackson says "this is a song where you can wallow in grief". End ID.]

[ID: An edited screenshot of a discord channel called quotes. User mmax/mpond (he/they/fae), which is spelled as the names Max and Pond with an M in front of both names is quoting 2 different people in conversations that were said verbally. The first quote by Mahal says "there aren't enough google images of sasuke being epic! okay I need to think about every scene sasuke has ever been in there's the one where he kisses naruto at the beginning, there's the one where he gives naruto his bento". The second part is a group of 4 quotes in a conversation. The quote of Nour says "first of all- a rat made it, it's not gonna taste good". Mahal is quoted saying "for those of you who don't know- nour is french, in france". Nour's reply to that is quoted, saying "we all make mistakes". Nour is quoted saying "slicing an aubergine like a fucking maniac". The last part is a quote of Mahal that says "damn sig figs... tearing me away from mac chef". End ID.]

[ID: An edited screenshot of a discord channel called reply to voice. User jrosie (they/them), which is spelled as the name Rosie with a J in front of it says "fucked up and evil" in all caps and posts an image that says "Left scratched and sour to remember you, L: There was nothing else I could do". Rosie says "these are all /pos btw" in all caps which has discord reactions of the sobbing emoji, blush emoji, and sparkling heart emoji. User mmax/mpond (he/they/fae), which is spelled as the names Max and Pond with an M in front of both names, responds saying "here's the old demo :) new one will be uploaded once i am done :)". There is a yellow block that says secret on it blocking the link to the demo. Rosie says "im just. head in hands" which has the reactions of a custom emoji with its head in its hands in dismay, and another of a crying cat. End ID.]

As we alluded to in our last post: Something sweetened this way comes… But that's all I can say until next week. Stay tuned for more weekly announcements!

[daresplaining]

    It has been a year and nine months since we last saw Mike Murdock, and a full two years since we had any actual information about his whereabouts (as his last few appearances were a dream sequence). While I, personally, haven’t let him wander far from my thoughts in that time, I recognize that some people might like a refresher, or may even be new to the character. With that in mind, I’ve put together a little Mike primer in anticipation of his long-awaited reappearance in tomorrow’s Annual. 

Silver Age Mike Murdock (Daredevil vol. 1 #25-41)

[ID: Three panels from Lee’s Daredevil run, showing Matt Murdock changing into his Mike Murdock outfit.]

Matt: “The peculiar personality of mischievous Mike really began to grab me! I enjoyed playing the role of my hip, happy, hedonistic twin! Especially since it was so easy for me to make the change from mellow Matt to merry Mike! All I need do is ruffle up my hair-- change to some loud, sporty threads-- and switch my frosted spectacles for a pair of groovy sunglasses! Then, presto-- I become the coolest cat in town-- the zingiest, glitziest loudmouth you know-- the most fun-lovin’, frantic fraud of ‘em all-- the people’s choice-- marvelous Mike Murdock in person!" 

    The abstract concept that would become Mike Murdock first appeared in Daredevil #25, halfway through Stan Lee’s run. At this point, the Daredevil universe mainly consisted of Matt and Foggy, up-and-coming young lawyers in their very first law office, and Karen, their secretary and mutual crush. This early in his superhero career, Matt is still making it up as he goes, juggling his dual identity and grappling with a bizarre series of supervillains/Spider-Man (more on that in a moment). Matt’s primary strategy for keeping his Daredevilling a secret at this time is to create a meek, boring, stick-in-the-mud civilian identity for himself, so that there’s no chance of anyone connecting straight-laced lawyer Matt Murdock with Daredevil. He resists the urge to court Karen, he over-exaggerates his blindness, and he lives for the times when he can toss aside his civvies and let loose as Daredevil. 

    Into this situation swings Spider-Man, who accidentally reveals to Karen and Foggy that he believes Matt to be Daredevil. Matt is as yet inexperienced at dealing with secret identity slip-ups, and when his friends confront him, he tries to throw them off the trail by inventing another identity: Mike Murdock, his hip, loud-mouthed superhero twin brother. And it works... almost too well. Matt loves being Mike, and his “twin” quickly turns into an outlet for everything he has been suppressing in his Matt Murdock identity. He is loud and boisterous in the office, he flirts with Karen, he revels in bragging about his exploits as Daredevil. Mike becomes a coping mechanism, a source of freedom, a relief from all of the stifling secret-keeping, and a glimpse of the person Matt maybe wants to be. He even considers proposing to Karen as Mike and taking on that identity permanently. Eventually, though, the charade turns sour. Karen and Foggy grow fond of Mike and become increasingly upset by Matt’s blasé attitude about his brother’s dangerous superhero life. Finally, Matt decides it would be best to kill Mike off, and he fakes his “twin brother”’s heroic death during a supervillain fight. 

“Fragment” Mike Murdock (Daredevil vol. 5 #606-608)

[ID: Panels from Soule’s Daredevil run. Foggy is sitting at his desk, having a gun pointed at him by Mike Murdock.]

Foggy: “That is... correct. How did you...?”

Mike: “Because I ain’t him. I’m me. And now, Foggy... you need to call my brother.”

    Fifty years (our time) later, the Daredevil landscape looks very different. While Matt occasionally uses the “Mike Murdock” alias to go undercover, putting on that actual identity has never again been necessary. The stifling act he once wore as Matt Murdock is long gone, and he views the Mike period of his life as nothing more than a slight embarrassment. In an attempt to take down the Kingpin, he teams up with a group of Inhumans, one of whom has the power to bring words to life. While going through some of Matt’s files, this Inhuman stumbles upon some text about Matt’s fake twin brother, and accidentally uses his powers.  

    What follows is a psychological, philosophical rollercoaster. Mike Murdock materializes as something dubbed within the story as a “fragment”-- a person who believes themself to be real, who has memories of a lived past, who looks and sounds and behaves like a normal human, but... isn’t. This Mike is very much the same flirty loudmouth that Matt dreamed up in the 60s, while also being his own person, with characteristics and a “past” that don’t quite match up with the Mike we know. Matt is weirded-out and horrified to be confronted by this living, breathing embodiment of a fake identity he created, someone who fully believes himself to be his brother, and Mike is equally horrified to discover that he is fake, that his memories and relationship with his brother are fake, and that everything he thought he knew is wrong. Matt becomes determined to have Mike deleted back out of existence, and when Mike realizes this, he fights back, desperate to stay alive. In the end, Matt comes to accept Mike’s humanity and opens himself up to the possibility of having a new family member, but not before Mike becomes convinced that his brother wants him dead. He flees to the protection of the Kingpin, and the last we see of him, he is walking away with the Hood toward a dangerous and uncertain future. 

    The strangeness of Mike as a character and the massive change he presents to the Daredevil status quo mean that his continuing existence is full of exciting and unpredictable possibilities. The preview for the Daredevil volume 6 Annual, which will bring him back after his two-year absence, suggests that we will be getting a glimpse into his memories-- the fake version of Daredevil history that exists inside his head, in which Matt Murdock has always had a brother-- and that he will be seeking to reconcile the dissonance between those memories and the real world. What might happen from there is, at the moment, anyone’s guess.

[rvmmm21]

. you know who i am? part deux .

aand to the anon who first requested this. look what you’ve done. you’ve created a very tiny demand for a part 2. and now i’ve dug myself even deeper because there’s gonna have to be a part 3 as well. i have the restraint of someone who has no restraint at all when it comes to getting carried away with supposed to be one-shots. 

if you’d like to read it, it’s also on ao3.

part 1 can be found here.

[badgirl/bully!joohyun x freshman!seungwan]

...

Bae Joohyun loves playing with her food. And Son Seungwan makes a very tasty snack. She finds herself victim of Joohyun’s entertainment time and time again; all these wicked little games of cat and mouse she’s forced to participate in whether she wants to or not. It’s awful. Awfully thrilling too; never able to shake the feeling of being watched from round corners, behind doors and… goddamnit, not even work provides her an ounce of solidarity. 

But she… likes it?

After filing out of class, Seungwan spots the black velvet trio in their usual inconspicuous corner, draped in all their menacing glory and laughing about something she can’t quite hear. Seeing as they’re partners now, Seungwan doesn’t think it’s too bad an idea if they got a little friendlier with each other.

Being nice never hurt anyone, she mentally hypes herself up for the challenge.

Feeling emboldened, she gingerly taps Joohyun on the shoulder, proud that she hasn’t passed out from gaining the attention of God herself. She musters up the courage she’s never had to in all her years of living.

“H-hi sunbae,” she says sheepishly, mindful of the girl’s seniority, “I-I think – I think y-you look nice today.”

Her innocent attempt at a compliment backfires instantly, when Joohyun suddenly whips completely round to face her. Books and loose sheets of paper drop like bombs, scattered at her feet when she sees the older girl’s features contort into a scowl that threatens to eat her alive. Poor Seungwan’s absolutely horrified, frantically wracking her brains for where she could’ve possibly misspoken.

The next thing she knows, she’s in a verbal joust; and no points for guessing who’s winning.

“Today!?” Joohyun scorns in disbelief, breaking away from a very amused Jennie and an unbothered Sooyoung, “what, so I don’t look good every day? Huh? Is that what you’re telling me, freshman?”

“N-no! No! Of – of course not!” Seungwan’s brown eyes double in size and she vigorously shakes her head, automatically backing away at the sight of a rapidly advancing, angry Joohyun, “I-I… I just meant t-that–”

“That I usually look hideous but today I ‘got lucky’!?”

The shorter girl gasps in shock when she feels the pointy angle of a door handle dig painfully into her lower back, making her cringe, cornered once again.

“T-that’s that’s th – no no no, I’d n-never!” she winces, brows knitted in fear, trembling hands up in surrender, more than ready to black out there and then.

The intensity of those unwavering pupils is enough to make the kingpin of the largest drug cartel in the world crumble to his knees. And if that’s the case, then Seungwan has even less hope than she’d originally thought. She carelessly grasps around behind her in search of… anything, really.

Joohyun just stands there, clearly enjoying watching the smaller girl fight to stay upright.

“Say, ‘I’m an idiot’.”

The instruction is concise. Clear. But Seungwan unfolds herself in a squeak of confusion; say what?

Her hesitation does her no favours, and a palm slams against the side of her head, rattling the hollow wooden door she’s pressed against. Seungwan’s never complied faster in her life, her words sloppily copied and pasted like a broken inkjet printer.

“AH! I-I’M AN IDIOT! I’m an i-idiot, pleasepleasedon’thurtmeplease…” she pleads, bracing herself for the worst.

And just like that, Joohyun’s sweet, airy music-box giggling fills Seungwan’s ears like she hadn’t almost made her drop dead two minutes ago. Creaking a wary eye open, she sees Joohyun much too close for comfort, grinning knowingly and twirling a lock of her caramel hair between her long fingers. The raging blush now colouring Seungwan’s cheeks is accompanied by distant snickers from the other two loyal observers.

“You’re too easy, Seungwannie,” she whispers so only Seungwan can hear, giving her hair a quick ruffle like she would a little brother, “so cute. Makes me want to bully you all the time.”

Paralysing hysteria and that warm, fuzzy feeling concocts a dreadfully perplexing mixture in her chest, and a dishevelled Seungwan can only watch the back of her bully as she struts off with her posse.

Okay, what the hell was that… and when can she do it again?

~~~~~~~~~~

Joohyun realises she’s five minutes early for her ‘study’ session with Seungwan today. She had insisted they study at her dorm seeing as she had it free for the whole afternoon, but eventually realised Seungwan was too much of a deer in the headlights to be able to make sense of the directions she’d given her. So here she was, playing babysitter, waiting for Seungwan to finish her writing class so they could walk back together.

Blithely sauntering over to the on-campus sweet shop, she orders herself a plain yoghurt smoothie, and a taro milk tea for her little study buddy. Taro milk tea that will definitely stay in the cup like it’s supposed to, this time. Surprised at her own actions, she hands her card over to the man as she hooks her fingers through the handles of the plastic bags holding their drinks. Eh, it’s the least she can do for hovering a jackhammer over Seungwan’s sugar-glass heart yesterday, she thinks.

Her lively mood quickly sours when she notices her favourite nerd across the halls, engaged in conversation with a random boy she’s never even seen. Joohyun grits her teeth, staying stagnant behind the pillar she was passing, watching this stupid boy waste Seungwan’s time.

… … …

Seungwan couldn’t say she’d really noticed him until he’d come up to her today. Deep almond eyes, spidery emerald locks framing a dashingly chiselled jawline, and the fashion sense to match; she could appreciate his good looks. Other than the fact that she wanted to know where he got that black padded baseball jacket and the suede boots on his feet, she desired nothing else from him. That was all it was: objective curiosity.

Although he seemed to be interested in a lot more from her, unfortunately.

“So, I’ve seen you around,” he mumbles through the cigarette between his lips, cupping his palm over the flickering lighter. Seungwan offers a kind smile, unsure of what exactly is going on here.

“Uh yeah…” she offers lamely, trying not to let on the fact that she’s holding her breath to try to avoid inhaling the silvery smoke escaping his lips, “I’m majoring in literature… uh, what are you��”

“I work here part time. Men-Tei, Japanese restaurant just across building B,” he says, cutting her off with a confident puff, “this whole uni business isn’t for me. Dropped out of school when I was 15 and everything.”

She didn’t ask, but okay.

He continues before she can say anything, “yeah, anyway I’m Jong-in. I’ve seen you in my restaurant a couple times too. Figured I’d catch you one of these days to ask you out for a drink or something if you’re down. What’s your name?”

Seungwan lets out a nervous laugh in response to the awkwardness. She really, really wants to leave. This guy may have been blessed with an impressive face, but his approach was anything but. The whole time he was speaking, Seungwan was unfazed by the intensity of his gaze, only thinking about how she could be working under a much more favourable one.

“So what’s your name then, pretty?”

Ugh, gross.

Just as she’s about to hit him with the good old ‘none of your business, coconut head, I have my sights on someone else’, she feels a strong arm curled around her bicep. It’s Joohyun. Just the person she’s never stopped thinking about. She looks proper mad, and she evidently isn’t afraid to speak her mind, looking damned hot while she’s at it; as Seungwan’s fluttering heart will attest without a doubt.

“And that’s not happening, you arrogant bastard,” Joohyun resists the urge to spit in his gorgeously smug face, “get a clue and shove it up your arse.”

Spinning on her heels, she drags an undeniably amused Seungwan along with her, leaving a confused, annoyed man in her dust. The younger girl can’t help but notice a moist coolness brushing against her leg as she’s being led to Joohyun’s dorm, and she glances down, trying to peer into the bags.

“S-sunbae,” she asks between strides. Joohyun is really pulling her along, “w-what did you get?”

Joohyun glares at her for the briefest of moments, but Seungwan sees right past the anger transparently masking those fairy-like features. Plus, she could’ve sworn she saw those cinnamon eyes soften ever so slightly at her curiosity.

“You’ll see. Wait till we get back.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The whole ‘backs-against-walls’ trope fast becomes a common occurrence whenever they are together, and Seungwan can’t help but wonder if Joohyun gets a kick out of this… an innocent kick, of course! Perhaps she finds Seungwan funny when she’s scared out of her mind, perhaps she likes seeing the way she flinches, the way her hands quiver when she’s holding them out like a shield. Or maybe she’s just keeping her on her toes for… god only knows at this point. There is just no straight answer when it came to the girl who pretty much forced herself to be Seungwan’s partner.

They were getting work done, at least. Well, more like Joohyun sat there and let Seungwan juggle between doing a good a job as she could at deciphering age-old literacy, and balancing a rapidly accelerating heartrate and a blood pressure sink-hole.

And she was doing an amiable job at keeping it all together this bright Friday afternoon, if she did say so herself. They were on the floor of Joohyun’s dorm room, open books and note-pad paper spread out around them, and Seungwan was just re-analysing her summary of the notes she’d made against the original text. She was getting into it, finally able to block out the fact that she was unwillingly being observed under a microscope.

That was until…

“Seungwan. Oi. Freshman. Did you hear what I just told you?”

A frazzled Seungwan darts up from her analysis, dropping her pen onto the wooden floorboards with a clatter. She helplessly watches it roll under the bed then looks up to see Joohyun sliding herself across the floor so she’s face to face with her.

“Ah s-sorry… what did y-”

Joohyun suddenly grabs Seungwan by the drawstrings of her hoodie and tugs her in, her cruel smile broadening as she leans in to purr into her ear.

“I told you to be a good girl and not to make me jealous.”

The way Joohyun threatens her so delicate yet menacingly has Seungwan struggling to breathe. She clutches at her own drawstrings, careful not to graze the girl’s grip, and unsuccessfully tries to straighten up, chuckling nervously when it’s obvious Joohyun isn’t done with her just quite yet. Her senior’s eyes warn her of the severity of what she’s just said as she leans forward again, suggestiveness dripping off her words like molten lava.

“…or you’ll make me do something nasty.”

Yep, a defibrillator and stretcher would be useful right about now.

“I-I…”

Seungwan utters the beginnings of a defence as soon as her hoodie is released, but she’s too caught up in whatever the hell that just was, and she just can’t seem to remember how to speak in full sentences.

The one-sided study session continues, thankfully, without another hitch.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her alarm is deafening, and Seungwan blindly reaches her hand over to swipe it off. She hasn’t even had the energy to open her eyes when the image of Joohyun’s teasing smirk the other day flickers in her brain. Before she knows what’s hit her, she’s got a face full of carpet and a sharp sting on the back of her head from where she’d swiped her whole phone down with her. Groaning out loud, she buries her face in the duvet still tangled in her legs.

Ugh, must she be this way?

God couldn’t have blessed her with an actual sense of coordination, could he? Well, perhaps he had, but she’d wasted it all the first day she met Joohyun, and now there was nothing left. Great. Just as she’s pining her loss of the ability to put one foot in front of the other without thinking about her attractive senior, Seulgi’s face peeks through the door.

“Yah, you having nightmares or something? This is the third time you’ve fallen out of bed.”

Seungwan scoffs from under the plush fabric. Nightmares have nothing on Bae Joohyun. She delegates them, if anything. Nightmares have nightmares of Joohyun. She honestly wished she could say she was having bad dreams… I mean, can’t be any worse than accidentally calling your customers ‘babe’, getting very well acquainted with doors to the face, or checking round the corner of everywhere you go just in case a certain someone happens to be there… which was what Seungwan’s entire week seemed to consist of ever since Joohyun had very nicely threatened her. The memory remains pin sharp, and it has Seungwan a complete and utter mess.

Seulgi watches the duvet mountain on the floor collapse and huff in an unspoken request to leave it in peace. It’s a beautiful morning, but the carpet is oh so comfy. The girl rolls her eyes.

“Fine, whatever. I’m making breakfast, hurry up and get ready.”

About twenty minutes later, Seungwan strolls into the kitchen in an oversized, stripey monochrome jumper and some skinny jeans. Her best friend has a piece of toast between her teeth, pattering around the kitchen in search of something or rather. She stops to sniff the air as Seungwan sits at the counter, slouching over with her chin in her palm.

“Are… are you wearing perfume? Ag-again?”

Her only response is a grunt and a hand into the fruit bowl. Seungwan absentmindedly crunches into an apple, eyes glazed over and staring into space. Seulgi observes her zombie of a friend mechanically chew the same mouthful of apple for a good two minutes before she’s had enough.

She sets her own toast down and reaches across to snatch the fruit out of her non-existent grip. Seungwan flinches, almost choking on the apple slush, as it is now, before managing to swallow it down, “yah, what’s wrong with you!?”

“Just checking you can do something other than groan and grunt,” she replies, hands on hips but extremely concerned, “anyways what’s happening? Is this about the assignment? You’ve been talking about it a lot…”

Seungwan hasn’t lied to Seulgi, per se. Told her a vague truth? Yes. Left out a few questionably majorly important details? Also yes. She did feel horrible for it though, seeing as they’d been best friends for years and Seungwan had made them promise to never keep secrets from one another.

With a sigh, she finally comes out with why she’s been acting like a fool all week.

“So… yes it’s about the assignment…and… and I’m uh… I’m paired with someone...”

Seulgi’s reaction is withheld, clearly because Seungwan has a ton more explaining to do.

“And J-…” she catches herself, proceeding to figure out a way to describe ‘she-who-shall-not-be-named’, “… the person I bumped into on the first day… y-you know, the day where you warned me to lay low…”

Seulgi goes wide-eyed with realisation and Seungwan uncomfortably bounces her knee as she finishes the hardest thing she’s ever had to tell another human being.

“Um so yeah, I’m w-working with her, i-it’s good, it’s good though so… so like, no worries or anything we’re good now.”

“You’re working with Joohyun?”

Ugh god no, at the mention of that name alone, Seungwan has another image of vantablack and cinnamon zap through her like lightning. She slumps down onto the countertop, the cool surface almost sizzling at the contact of her forehead. She nods against the marble.

“Oh my gosh, Wan-ah,” Seulgi exclaims. She’s surprised but still able to put the kettle on for her morning tea, “is that why you’ve been such a klutz recently? Yah, she’s messing you up isn’t she? Is she bullying you? Do you need to talk to someone about this?”

Christ sakes, she would’ve… if only she didn’t like being ‘bullied’ as much as she did. She lifts her cast iron head, gazing at her best friend with a look of pure misfortune, “it… it’s not really like that.”

“Then wh-” the other girl stops when it hits her; the perfume, the insomnia, the falling out of bed, “oh no, oh no, no no no… please don’t tell me you’re actually falling for her.”

You poor, poor thing, Seungwan thinks as she sits there watching her friend make breakfast, carrying on with life as usual. She was way past the warning signs; she’d walked right off the edge with a smile on her face. And she’d fallen.

She has fallen and can-not get up.

~~~~~~~~~~

It really was one thing after another with Joohyun. For once, Seungwan is early to class, avoiding the hassle of squeezing past a line of other people and saving herself the embarrassment of having to apologise for tripping over a bag strap or clipping someone over the head. She’s all set up, feeling rather happy the seat next to her is empty. She isn’t claustrophobic or anything, it’s just nice having more room to yourself sometimes. Although Seungwan can’t help her wandering gaze, scanning the sea of faces for a particularly mean one. She spots her usual seat, but it’s just Jennie and Sooyoung. They’ve got their phones out and they’re whispering; probably something evil, Seungwan assumes.

She inwardly shrugs. Guess Joohyun’s a no-show. How typical, she thinks, guess who’s gonna have to catch little miss ‘I’m-too-busy-being-sexy-and-intimidating-to-come-to-class’ up with today’s lesson. God, that girl is something else. Seungwan makes her mind up, she’s standing her ground today. No more reading off her notes. If she can’t come to class on time, then she can find someone who’ll roll over and let her read theirs.

Of course, it’s not until half an hour into the class, when Seungwan’s finally getting into the groove of what the lecturer is saying, when she feels an all too familiar presence materialise in the seat next to her. She almost doesn’t want to look. And when she finally not so discreetly does, she’s met with windswept tresses cascading in shiny, black waves down a Saint Laurent rib-knitted black cardigan and cheeks flushed a slight pinkish. How someone who’s clearly had to run to class can still look like she’s ready to walk the runway at Paris Fashion Week is beyond Seungwan.

Whatever concentration she’s built up in the thirty minutes class has been in session evaporates into thin air sitting next to this stunning beauty. This stunning beauty whose hand was ‘accidentally-not-on-purpose’ gently resting on her forearm, raising her body temperature to dangerously high levels.

“Can I see your notes?” she whispers, leaning in so her breath is hot against Seungwan’s ear.

Shivering inside and out, she instinctively slides her exercise book across the table. She doesn’t see Joohyun’s sneaky little smile as she reads the neat cursive of Seungwan’s hard work. The younger girl focuses extra closely on the way the lecturer’s tie is slightly off-centre and how he has one cuff folded while the other remains snugly buttoned. She knows she’s just going to give herself a breathing problem if she looks the other way.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hyun-ah,” Jennie says, bringing a fistful of popcorn up to her mouth, “when are you gonna quit playing with her?”

Joohyun gives her a questioning hum, as if she doesn’t know exactly what her friend is asking her.

“Yeah,” Sooyoung quips with a laugh, “come on, aren’t you worried you’re gonna give her like… a heart attack or something? That poor kid’s a medical emergency waiting to happen if you ask me.”

“What’re you implying, Young-ah,” Joohyun says, nonchalantly pressing a strawberry to her lips, “you saying I’m gonna kill her?”

Sooyoung huffs in amusement, “duh, I mean I literally saw her soul leave her body that time after class. You aren’t afraid she’s gonna like, I dunno, snap and get you back someday?”

At this point, even tough-as-nails Kim Jennie and Park Sooyoung can sympathise from afar, all too knowing of how Joohyun’s little bullying games could end.

“Nah, she’s a good girl, she knows she’s mine. C’mon, start the movie.”

“Good girl, huh,” Jennie sneers, snatching the remote away before Joohyun can even reach for it, pink lips curled into a playfully sly grin, “hey Young-ah, I think Hyun has a crush on that little nerd.”

“Defs,” the girl replies, settling down between them both, “this is the longest you’ve kept up with tormenting someone. When are you gonna move on, huh Hyun? Stop playing with her.”

Sooyoung and Jennie’s smug expressions visibly deflate when Joohyun purses her lips, indifference written all over her face as she looks them straight in the eyes.  

“I’m not playing with her. I’m going to make her my girlfriend.”

The almost indiscernible smile that traces her lips after that last sentence tells the other two that she means damn well what she says. The conviction in her aura is unwavering. Jennie and Sooyoung exchange quick glances before shrugging; nothing they can do about it anyway. Joohyun’s mind is made up. And their friend’s the definition of a go-getter.

“Aight, whatever, call me when you guys get together,” Sooyoung teases, grabbing the bowl of popcorn out of Jennie’s lap and reaching for the nearest cushion to cuddle as the latter presses play.

Joohyun finds it increasingly difficult to concentrate on the movie they’re watching and not let her mind wander to clumsily charming milk tea spillages and nervously stuttered apologies.

~~~~~~~~~~

Seungwan would find it easier to wrap her head around if someone had dumped her upside down in a mirror maze with a map of Disneyland and a small audio recording of a voice screaming, ‘biscuits and cheese’. 

Because right now, she is confused with a capital ‘c’.

Joohyun magically pops up during every one of her shifts at the café, and Seungwan can pretty much make her iced Americano blindfolded with her hands tied behind her. Joohyun likes it with exactly five ice cubes, no more, no less. Not that Americanos are hard to make in the first place, but Joohyun seems to know how to make Seungwan’s hands just that bit shakier, and her mind, just that much fuzzier. Between spilt milk and chipped teacups, it’s a wonder she hasn’t been fired yet, if she’s brutally honest.

But it isn’t as simple as that.

Joohyun is there during her break hours too, every time without fail, holding up none other than her favourite: taro milk tea with half sugar and less ice. Seungwan notices the seat next to hers in their shared literature lectures might as well be reserved for her royal highness, with how frequently she turns up ‘late’, and has to sit next to her out of nothing but ‘convenience’. And that one pivotal occasion where Joohyun corrected her ‘sunbae’ to ‘unnie’ in the midst of one of their little weekend revision sessions. That’s another thing. Their usual allocated Friday meetups after Seungwan’s writing class has bled into full-blown weekends of ‘study time’, where Seungwan finds herself discovering more and more about the girl who wears mystery like a well-loved winter coat, the girl who’s like a baked cinnamon roll; burnt and scalding to touch, but warm and sweet in the middle.

There is really no turning back from all this.

Seungwan is in waist deep, and she can only pray Joohyun is too.

[iholdmysaiproperly]

This is my contribution to the @daredevilexchange, a fic for @valinorbound using the prompts, Foggy, Karen, and Matt setting up their new partnership, a post-Defenders reunion, and team as family. 

“What do you mean you haven’t spoken to any of the other Defenders?” Foggy asked as he strained to squeeze a conference table into the space above Theo’s shop. The Three Avocados, as Foggy liked to call them, were busy trying to convert space previously used for storage into a semblance of a lawyer’s office. 

Foggy and Karen were trying to treat Matt’s vigilante side job like a normal extracurricular activity. But it was proving to be a little harder for them than if Matt had taken up, say, the violin. Foggy thought that Matt was better off in a team up, rather than working alone - safer that way - and had brought up the Defenders. It turned out that Matt hadn’t spoken to any of them since the Midland Circle debacle.

Matt, after trying to duck the question for at least five minutes by attempting to clear some clutter from what was soon to be their waiting room and keeping up a running commentary of what he guessed the items were, had finally mumbled something about not having seen them since the building had come down. He hoped they would drop the subject, but judging from Karen’s quick intake of breath and the fact that Foggy had completely stopped all movement for about 10 seconds told him that this was never going to happen.

“Matt, buddy,” Foggy began, “I saw them after it all happened. When we all thought you were, you know,” he dropped his voice to a whisper, “dead.” 

Behind him, Karen rolled her eyes, but stayed silent, emptying out an old file cabinet she hoped they could use.

“And, let me tell you, man, they were pretty broken up about it. I mean, you stayed down there when they all came up. That leaves a mark on people. Hell, Matt, YOU leave a mark on people, and you really need to get better at the whole,” here he stopped his futile efforts with the table and leaned against it, “you know, communicating thing. Starting with NOT LETTING PEOPLE WHO CARE ABOUT YOU GO ON BELIEVING THAT YOU’RE DEAD.”

“What Foggy is trying to say,” Karen interrupted, shooting Foggy a look over her shoulder as she approached Matt, “Is that even if you don’t team up with these people again, you should at least let them know that you’re ok.”

“I’m sure they’ve heard by now,” Matt answered them dismissively. “It was a little hard to miss Daredevil’s return; it was all over the news!” Hearing both Foggy’s and Karen’s heartbeats start to pick up, he asked, “What?”. They were both getting worked up about something, but he really just wanted to focus on what they were doing - making a fresh start for the new Nelson, Murdock, and Page and making sure they were ready to open the doors on schedule. 

Seeing that Foggy was about to yell again, or possibly pull his hair out in frustration, Karen placed a hand on his arm and took a step forward, “Matt, don’t you think that they might want to hear it from you? Whatever the four of you went through down there, it was pretty intense. And then to think that you stayed down there when they all got out. That had to have been difficult for them. I think you owe it to them to at least let them know that you survived.” As she spoke, Karen moved slowly toward Matt, as if toward a skittish cat. “They may not love you like we do, but I’m sure they’d be happy to hear from you again if you were to reach out.”

Matt sighed, running his fingers back through his hair and turning away for a moment. They were right. He knew they were right, but at the same time, his plate felt awfully full just then. The Yakuza seemed to be trying to make a play for the hole left by the Hand, he, Foggy, and Karen were attempting to get their new partnership underway, which meant a lot of physical work as well as paperwork, and he was making more of an effort to be a better friend to both of them. This meant trying to juggle a worklife, social life, and his nightlife, and he lived in constant fear that one of those balls was going to drop on his head.

The thought of reaching out to three more people, even if it was just socially, was more than he really felt up to at the moment. Admitting that, however, was something that he just didn’t think he could do right now, either. He couldn’t see their faces, but he could picture the sympathetic looks that Foggy and Karen would give him, as well as the requisite pep talks and encouragement to cut back on his nighttime activities if he so much as hinted that he was feeling a little overwhelmed. 

After a moment, he decided that the only way through this was to admit that Foggy and Karen were right, and call up the other Defenders. Maybe he would get lucky and a quick phone call would suffice. 

____________________________________________________________________________

Murdocks don’t get lucky, Matt thought as the limo he sat in propelled him through the city. We get hit, we get up, we use pain to keep us going, but we never get lucky. 

Matt’s hope and plan went off the rails with his first phone call. It was to Jessica, who first hung up on him, then called him back to yell at him until he had to hold the phone away from his ear fearful of hearing damage. She hung up on him again, then called back, clearly inside a bottle, to yell some more. It took him two days before he recovered enough to call Luke, who was overjoyed to hear from him, but a lot more sane about the call than Jessica had been. Fewer expletives as well.

The call had gone so well, in fact, that he immediately called Danny, a decision he was now regretting. Danny had also been overjoyed to hear from him, and had immediately suggested that the four of them meet and catch up. “You don’t have to do a thing,” he promised over the phone, “I’ll arrange everything. Hey, did I tell you I bought that restaurant we all met at? Yeah, after the car came through the front window, I sort of had to in order to avoid being sued. Anyway, it’s mine now so I can host you all there for a reunion dinner! I’ll call the others and set it up, how’s the 20th work for you?” Given that it was the 1st, and the 20th seemed ages off, Matt agreed and hung up the phone wondering what he had gotten himself into.

The next few weeks flew by as they continued getting Nelson, Murdock, and Page up and running. They were officially open for business, and the word about the hot shot pro bono attorneys was spreading. Karen was almost never in the office, off following some lead while Matt and Foggy did their best to keep up with the unending stream of people who flowed through their doors.

They were so busy, in fact, that Matt had completely forgotten about his dinner with the Defenders until a limo had pulled up outside of the shop one evening, and a beaming Danny - he could actually hear the man smile - had him by the arm and inside the limo before he had time to blink. 

Any attempts Matt made at stalling or entering the restaurant quietly were thwarted by Danny, who pulled him inside, while calling out enthusiastically to the others the whole time. Matt was immediately greeted by a punch to the gut and an, “Asshole!” from Jessica, who was clearly still mad at his failure to communicate the fact that he was still alive. He struggled to get his breath back while he felt Luke watching him, “I’m STILL not giving you a hug,” the bigger man told him, his hands folded inside his hoodie, “But I am glad to see you, man. Glad you’re still with us.” And with that, he good naturedly swatted Matt on the arm while Matt tried not to flinch, remembering the wallop he had just received.

Luke moved off toward Jessica, who Matt could hear pouring shot after shot of what smelled like cheap whiskey. Guilt flooded him for a moment as he faced the fact that his decisions had caused this pain. But, he had promised Foggy and Karen that he was going to start doing better, so he took a deep breath and steeled himself for what was coming next.

Danny, who hadn’t let go of his arm as if afraid Matt was going to turn around and leave again, pulled him further into the restaurant toward a table in the back that was already filled with food. Given how much Danny could eat, that wasn’t surprising. Matt seated himself and began to toy with this knife and fork. For a moment he was actually thankful to be blind, as it meant he didn’t have to make eye contact with anyone as the others seated themselves at the table and dinner got underway.

The meal started out somewhat awkwardly with Danny doing most of the talking. Eventually, Matt managed to get a word in edgewise, and apologized to the others for not reaching out sooner. There was a brief pause while the others let him squirm for a moment, and then things relaxed and the evening became a lot more, if not fun, then at least enjoyable. 

So enjoyable, in fact, that when Jessica announced she had to leave to follow up on something, the other three decided to join her. A lot of whiskey went into this decision, but Jessica had said this was a routine surveillance, after all, so what could go wrong?

____________________________________________________________________________

Matt cursed the Murdock luck again as he ducked what sounded an awful lot like a computer printer flying at his head. The paper tray had come loose and was sliding outward in one direction while the power cord whipped around in the other, making a whistling sound that distracted him. He dodged the printer easily, but the cord caught him across the face. He grabbed it and used it to swing the printer back at the thug that had thrown it at him, knocking the guy backwards so that he stumbled into the man standing behind him, taking them both out.

 Jessica’s “routine surveillance” had turned out to be on a very angry and destructive executive who had been caught slipping back into his office presumably to destroy evidence that showed the fact that he had been appropriating funds. Jessica was acting on a tip that the scumbag was planning on leaving the country soon, and she was hoping to gather evidence of this tonight. 

A security guard clearly on the man’s payroll spotted Jessica taking pictures, though, and all hell had broken loose. The next thing any of them knew, they were engaged with several hired goons who had clearly been instructed not to let them get away. When the hired thugs realized that they were clearly outmatched, they became desperate, throwing everything but the proverbial kitchen sink at the group. It didn’t really matter in the end, but it did slow the Defenders down enough that the evidence was destroyed before the executive was out the door and into a town car. This led to a heated argument about whether they should follow him, or simply turn over the images that Jessica had managed to take before the shit hit the fan and walk away from the mess. Matt was personally torn on the subject; this wasn’t normally his game, but he hated to see guilty people slip away. Luke was all for turning over the evidence and getting out of there before someone called the cops on them, and Matt was leaning toward agreeing with him, but Jessica and Danny were outraged and argued that it wasn’t enough to simply send some images when the guy could be anywhere within an hour.

In the end, it was decided that Matt and Danny would trail him while Jessica and Luke got the images into the right hands. Thankfully, the guy was easy to trail from the rooftops, and they were able to keep reporting on his whereabouts while Jessica and Luke got the info to her client, who was able to go to the police with his case. 

It was dawn before Matt made it back to his apartment. He managed a quick shower and a quick nap before he dragged himself into the office for the day. For the first time in ages, he actually considered calling in, but he knew that if he did the others would worry, and he had enough guilt to deal with. Making them worry wasn’t something he could bring himself to do just then.

Foggy and Karen were waiting for him, both of them clearly eager to hear about how his evening had gone. Matt could hear them talking excitedly when he entered the shop and headed for the back stairs. They were hoping that he had enjoyed himself and that maybe he would consider working with one or more of them in the future, which Foggy felt would be safer for him in the long run, to have someone watching his back, what happened at Midland Circle notwithstanding. Matt was touched, and had to pause for a moment before he let them know he was there. He didn’t want them to realize that he had overheard them. That, and he was pretty sure he looked terrible after last night, plus he was moving a little oddly due to Jessica’s punch, which had left him a very sore, and black and blue stomach. 

He could smell coffee, though, and in his rush to arrive on time he hadn’t had any yet. He was so desperate for caffeine he was willing even to drink the coffee if Karen had made it. In fact, he might have to ask her to make him his own pot; he was so tired he was afraid he’d end up doing something dumb like forgetting to put the carafe under the stream. 

Pausing outside the door, he straightened up, suppressed a hiss of pain from his bruised abs, and plastered a smile on his face. He knew he looked bad, but he wasn’t sure exactly how bad until he went in and heard both Karen’s and Foggy’s heart rates jump up about 50 beats a minute each. They were both silent for a moment before they rushed him, talking at once.

“Matt! What happened,” Karen asked as she ran to take his cane and steer him toward a chair. 

“Matt, buddy! What the hell happened last night? I thought you were having dinner with Danny, Luke, and Jessica!” Foggy was alternating coming in close and quickly backing up again, obviously not sure what to do. “You look like shit, buddy. Don’t tell me you blew them off and went out Daredeviling,” Matt could hear the frown in Foggy’s voice and was quick to reassure him.

“No, no, I did meet up with them. I swear. And it was nice, really. I mean, Jessica punched me in the stomach when I first walked in,” Matt paused as he heard Karen’s sharp intake of breath. She reached a hand toward his stomach, but he brushed it away with a shake of his head. “I’ll be fine, really. And I did deserve it. I realize now that I shouldn’t have left them hanging like I did. And, can I get some coffee? Please? I was out till dawn, and I haven’t had any yet.” He trailed off, his head starting to pound from caffeine withdrawal. He must have looked as bad as he felt since Karen got up to fill him a cup without asking any questions.

“So, what, did Luke and Danny take turns on the rest of you? It looks like you got smacked in the face by a whip,” Foggy had finally succumbed to his need to be close to Matt, and was gently turning Matt’s face toward the window with his fingers so he could get a better look at the damage. 

“Actually, it was the power cord from a printer,” Matt said sheepishly as he took the cup of coffee from Karen, “Thanks,” he told her, “this is exactly what I need.”

“A power cord?” “From a printer?” Foggy and Karen spoke over one another in their confusion. Matt had to laugh in spite of himself. 

“Yeah, I know, it sounds weird. But… trust me we did have a great time. It was a little awkward at the beginning, but then we relaxed and it was good to catch up. I apologized for not having reached out sooner.”

“And they whipped you with a power cord?” Foggy interrupted. He and Karen were both confused, and starting to wonder if Matt had hit his head. 

“No, no, that happened later,” Matt laughed. “Jessica needed to go to check up on something for a client. We decided to follow her, and if I’m honest a lot of whiskey went into that decision. Things went a little sideways, which is where the printer came from. I’ll spare you the details, but the cops arrested the guy just before 4. We split up then and I made it home before 5, grabbed about two hours of sleep and here I am. We agreed to stay in touch, though, maybe make dinner a regular thing if not the fighting.” Matt smiled at his friends, who he could tell were torn about how they felt on this subject. 

“Well,” Foggy began slowly, “are you sure you want to be here today? No offense buddy but you really do look like shit. In fact, I’m not sure you should see any clients; I think you’ll scare them.”

Matt started to protest, but then paused, weighing Foggy’s words. It was true his appearance might be off putting to some of their older clients if Foggy and Karen’s reactions were anything to go by, and it was also true that he was trying to be more open about how he felt with Foggy and Karen - part of their agreement when they decided to work together again, but he honestly didn’t want to leave either, despite how gnarly he felt. He decided to come clean.

“Yeah, I know I probably look awful, and frankly I’m not feeling that great either, but I think I’d really rather be here with both of you than home on my own.” He paused to try to get a read on the others, but they were still and silent, heartbeats steady. More nervous now, he continued, “I could just hole up in the back, take care of the back end details, Foggy you could handle the face to face for the day,” he trailed off, as the others were still not giving him anything to work with.

Evidently, though, they had both come to a decision, “Sure thing, buddy,” Foggy said, standing, “Why don’t we clear off that table near the closet and you can work there for the day. It’s kind of hidden behind those weird Chinese screens my mom stashed up here, so no one will see you. And besides,” he said, with a glance at Karen, “I think I speak for both Karen and myself when I say that we’d probably be happier to have you here with us where we can keep an eye on you than have you off on your own, knowing that you’d be likely to jump off a fire escape or something just to help an old lady across the street.” He was smiling, Matt could hear it in his voice. Karen said nothing, but refilled his coffee cup and went to start clearing off the back table. 

Matt smiled at Foggy in relief, glad to finally have no secrets between him and his friends - his family.

[catchester]

12 Days of Christmas

Title: Twelve Drummers Drumming

Authors: @evieplease​​​​ and @catchester​​​​

Which character: Actor!Tom and OFC Rocky

Genre: Humour/Explicit

Fic Summary: Tom and Rocky spend their first Christmas as a couple and Rocky meets Tom’s Mum for the first time. Expect 12 gifts, too much boozy, bad puns and lots of fun!

Rating: Mature

Previous Chapters: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17138390/chapters/40304798

AN: Well, we just scraped it in on the 12 night (as long as you don't live in the UK) and we have a special little epilogue planned, which we hope to bring you tomorrow. 

Also, sorry for not tagging directly, but tagging seems to work much better for @evieplease​ than  for me.

12 Drummers Drumming

When I told Tom to bring his guitar he knew I had something musical planned but I could see him becoming confused when the cab drove us away from the centre and towards Croydon. He held his tongue until we parked in a very nice new development of town houses and flats. 

“Okay,” he said, looking around as he retrieved the guitar case from the boot while I paid. “I give up, why are we here?” 

I just smiled and took his arm, tamping down my own nervousness, leading him to one of the new townhouses and ringing the bell. It was opened a moment later by slim, sandy blonde man in a black t-shirt and faded blue jeans. 

“Rox!” he said with an enthusiastic smile, leaning forward for a cheek kiss. I never liked that nickname, but he was family so he got a pass . . . sometimes. And since he and Dave had allowed me to hijack their evening at the last minute, he definitely gets a pass tonight. Though I did wince at the name.

I turned to Tom, just in time to catch his smirk. I knew he was filing ‘Rox’ away in that prodigious brain to use in some future nefarious plan. I would, if the situation were reversed, after all! I warningly narrowed my eyes at him, and his smirk grew wider. He knew I couldn’t do fuck all about it at the moment.

I dragged myself back into the moment. I do want him to like my family, and my family to like him. Right, so.

“Tom, this is Ryan, my brother-in-law.” 

Tom had to switch his guitar to shake hands but he professed he was pleased to meet him. He even managed a warm smile for Ryan, while shooting me a glare that promised retribution for not warning him that he was about to meet my family.

Ryan shook Tom’s hand and then froze, giving me wild eyed look as he twigged to Tom.

“Oh, Rocky you’ve outdone yourself! Dave is absolutely going to shit! I can’t believe you brought Loki home! No wait. Yes I can.” Dave shook his head and grinned at Tom. “Come on in, Tom, you’re just in time for the fireworks!” 

Ryan offered to take our coats and Tom’s guitar. 

“What can I get you to drink?” Ryan asked Tom, then listed off the wines they had available. 

“Whatever’s open is fine,” Tom smiled, as we seated ourselves on the sofa and Ryan headed off into the kitchen. Tom grabbed my elbow and hissed in my ear as soon as Ryan was out of the room..

“You didn’t tell your family anything about me?? Rocky...” 

“Sure I did, Tom! I told ‘em that you’re wonderful and kind and fun. You make me laugh  and you like me. What else do they need to know?”

Tom’s eyes softened. “Rocky, you…”  he shook his head, apparently speechless. But I knew better. I was sure to hear about it later.

I flashed him a cheeky smile as we sat down. “I just thought it was probably best not to give you time to get drunk before meeting my family,” I teased. 

The glare he levelled at me was slightly spoiled by the smile he couldn't quite repress. 

“You’re here!”

We looked to the doorway where my clone stood, assuming I was 6 inches taller and 60lbs heavier. He also had short hair but the family resemblance was uncanny. 

“You must be Dave,” Tom said, rising from the sofa to greet him. 

“I am indeed,” Dave grinned, shaking Tom’s hand genially. “And I’ve heard an awful lot about you. All good, of course.” 

Tom turned and gave us both some serious side eye, looking back and forth. 

“Have you met your sister?” he asked Dave.

Ryan clapped a hand over his mouth and did his best to stifle a giggle and letting out a small snort over madly twinkling eyes, while Dave laughed ruefully.

“Too true, but ‘All I know is that you have dodgy plumbing and work away sometimes’ doesn't really sound very polite.” 

I stood to reach up and kiss Dave hello. “And that’s why you haven't met my family yet, Tom,” I glanced at him and teased. “Let me just apologise in advance for my brother.”

“Right,” Ryan said as he returned with three glasses of red wine and a bottle of beer for me. He’d been a bartender in college so he could juggle far more beverage than the average Joe. “Can’t you lot stop sniping at each other for just one night?” he teased us.  

“Oh please,” I smiled. “You give as good as you get.” I’d always liked Ryan. 

“Yes, but I find it’s best to break new people in gently.” He tilted his head at Tom in a ‘sorry, mate’ eye roll.

“Oh, don’t worry about Tom.” I waved an airy hand. “He’s so broken in I’ve ridden him hard and put him away wet many times now.”

Ryan nearly choked on his wine and Tom couldn't stifle his laugh. 

“She speaks the truth,” Tom agreed. “Although she could learn a little tact.” 

“That’s what I keep you around for,” I explained. 

“Well, don’t stand on ceremony,” Ryan gestured to the sofa behind us and as we sat down I heard a small ‘ding’ emanating from the kitchen. 

“I’m up, I’ll go,” Dave offered since Ryan had taken a seat too. 

“I knew I could smell something delicious,” I said as Dave went into the kitchen to serve the nibbles. “Ryan’s a caterer,” I told Tom. “A very good one too.” He’d catered a few prestigious events so he was used to acting naturally around famous faces, although his events tended to be business and politics more than theatrical, but he’s told us all about meeting Stephen Fry at one of his events. 

“I can’t believe he hasn’t noticed yet,” Ryan whispered. 

“I know!” I whispered back. He’d understand once we took him upstairs. 

Tom looked slightly nonplussed by the conversation but he turned to Ryan with a friendly smile and asked, “What are we having?” 

“Well given what Rocky said about tonight, we’re just having a series of finger foods, starting with mini kebabs marinated in satay and hoi sin sauce. The satay is a teeny bit hot but nothing most people can’t handle.”

“Is it just us?” he asked.

“While introducing you to my family really should be a one at a time thing to avoid premature ageing, Dad and Paul are still in Florida.

“Well they may have sun, but we have hors d'oeuvres.” Dave returned with a serving plate of mini kebabs, two small pots of extra sauce in the middle. He put them on the coffee table then sat on the sofa opposite us, next to Ryan. 

“Rocky tells me you work in Finance?” Tom said to Dave as he helped himself to a kebab. 

I jumped in. “Dear god, Tom, don’t get him started, we’ll be hip deep in spreadsheets!”

“It’s a little more sophisticated than that,” Dave rolled his eyes. 

“What Dave, I keep telling you that one and one are two. Two and two are four. It’s not hard.” I teased him, tipping my glass at him.

Dave grinned back. “Bet you can’t tell me the square root of three, though!”

I opened my mouth and shut it. I had no idea. Dave took a sip of his wine and managed to look like the cat who got the cream.

Ryan laughed. “Do you want to tell her, or shall I?” 

Dave toasted Ryan and snickered. “Be my guest.”

Ryan put a consoling arm around me. “Darling. Three is a square root,” he said gently.

“Well, shit.” The two men chuckled at me, but Tom winced. I knew he didn’t know, either. I flopped back on the sofa and scowled at my smartypants brother. For some reason Dave got all the maths in the family. Dad was right annoyed when he went into banking, instead of staying home and doing the books for the family plumbing business. But really, Dad’s very proud of Dave. And so am I, come to that.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Tom tried being more direct this time as he reached for another kebab and offered me the plate. 

Those things were moreish and I was tempted to hold onto the plate and finished off the remains. Good manners won out however and I returned them to the coffee table. 

“She didn't tell you?” Dave asked playfully. 

“No, she didn't,” Tom levelled a narrow eyed glare at me. “Secrets abound tonight, it seems.”

It was time to put him out of his misery. 

“It just so happens that although he wears a suit and tie, and has the world’s most boring job, in his spare time, my brother here happens to be a world-class drummer.”

“Hardly,” Dave blushed. “But I enjoy it.” 

“Don’t listen to him. He’s good. Really good, and I have the scars to prove it!”

“I can’t see any scars!”

“They’re all mental, dear brother.” I smiled sweetly and took a sip of my wine.

Ryan choked a bit. “Shall we get on then?” 

“I thought you two could have a little jam session,” I told Tom. 

“While Rocky and I will gaze on adoringly,” Ryan added, batting his eyelashes only slightly sarcastically. 

“Oh no,” Dave shook his head. “If I have to play, you two have to sing.” 

“I’m game,” I grinned. “Besides, we’re running low of kebabs,” I said as I popped the last one in my mouth.

“So,” Tom cleared his throat, “When do we start?” he said in his Loki voice, doing his best to suppress a smirk.

“All right,” Ryan stood up. “Let’s do this!” 

Tom picked up his guitar from the hall and we all trooped upstairs. The Marvel posters lining the stairway and the upper landing didn't escape his notice and I could see the penny drop with regard to why Ryan as surprised Dave hadn’t recognised Tom. 

“Who’s the Marvel fan?” Tom asked. 

“That’d be me,” Dave answered. “Do you like the MCU too?”

“Well, I suppose you could say that, yes.” Tom blushed slightly but I don't think the boys noticed.

“I’ve got a collection of awesome memorabilia in the bedroom. I’ll show you once we’re done here, if you’re interested.”

“Are you indecently propositioning my boyfriend?” I asked innocently. 

“No, but I do have a new life size cutout of Captain America that might tempt him away from you,” Dave fired back with a smirk. 

Tom snickered. “I’m fairly sure that Rocky looks better in tights, mate! ” 

“I can feel the righteousness surging! Let’s hear it for truth, justice, and the American way!” I did my best Loki impression, which was shite, but when I tried to walk backwards at the same time and nearly fell on my arse it got a laugh.

Tom lept forward and caught me. “Darling, that was pitiful! Are you sure you want to talk about our kinky bedroom habits in front of your brother,” Tom teased as we were guided into the music room. 

“Our kinky habits?!” I tried to sound outraged.

Ryan laughed out loud. Dave narrowed his eyes..

“Wait, there’s an American Way?” He glared at Tom. “Just what the hell are you doing to my sister, mate??”

I clapped a hand over Tom’s mouth just as he opened it to tell Dave. “Now Tom, there’s no need to tell my brother just what you get up to in Captain America’s tights!”

Ryan held up a hand. “Right! That’s enough out of all of you! You’ll be giving Dave nightmares, and I need my beauty sleep!”

Tom didn’t let it go, though. He bent down and purred in my ear so just I could hear. “Don’t worry, darling, you will kneel for me later.”

Fuck me! My knees wobbled.

He, of course wandered off into the room without a care in the world leaving me feeling all hot and bothered on my brothers landing. 

Bastard. 

The largest bedroom had been turned into the music room and the walls were covered with some sort of soundproof foam. A large drum set took up about a third of the room, but there was also a keyboard against one wall, and a guitar propped up against it.  

There were also two small sofas and a couple of stools, so obviously jamming sessions weren’t unheard of. 

Tom looked around. “This is great, man!”

Ryan nodded. “Dave needed the space for his gear, so we use one of the smaller rooms for our bedroom. 

“It’s a terrific set up!” Tom enthused. “Do you play the piano and guitar too?” Tom asked as he pulled his guitar out of its case and began to tune it. 

“The guitar is mine,” Ryan admitted with a grimace. “I haven't been playing long, though.”

“The keyboard is something I keep meaning to learn,” Dave added. “Trouble is, the drums are just such good stress relief.” 

“We’ve pretty much decided we’ll have to adopt some kids and fill out our band with them,” Ryan teased. 

“The Osmond’s mark two,” I quipped. 

“The family that plays together stays together,” Dave shot back, while Ryan clutched his head.

“Oh god no! Not the bloody Osmonds! 

We all laughed. 

“Go on then,” I gestured for Dave to play his drums as I took a seat on one of the couches. “I promised Tom drums, after all.”

“But what about the other eleven drummers?”

“Sorry. This is the discount 12th day. All the other drummers were sold out. All you get is Dave. But he can play Wipeout like he has twelve pairs of arms!”

“All right Oh, thanks very much, sister dear! No pressure there!” He sat behind his drum kit and looked surprisingly nervous. A few deep breaths, however, and he launched into the familiar opening bars of Wipeout. His hands and feet moved with a furious pace and at the correct time, Ryan jumped up and grabbed my hands and we both launched into a gyrating dance and sang along, sort of na-na-na-ing the missing electric guitar accompaniment. Tom joined in after a minute, riffing on his acoustic guitar. Who didn't know Wipeout? 

At the end we all fell back, laughing and clapping.  Tom got up and offered his hand for Dave to shake. 

“I’ve got to say, I’m impressed.” He said that last in his slightly deeper Loki voice, but Dave was too busy blushing to notice. 

“Thanks.” Dave had turned a bit pink around the ears. “It’s one of my favourites, so I’m very practised at it.” 

“Very,” I agreed dryly. 

Dave chuckled. “When  we were kids I went a bit overboard one summer, obsessed with getting it right. One day Rocky got so fed up at hearing the same tune over and over she stormed into the garage and swore that if I ever played Wipeout again, she would get a gun and stab me to death.”

That story was one of the family staples now, Dave’ll be telling his grandkids one day about crazy, homicidal Aunt Rocky, no doubt!

“I’m not very coherent when I’m angry,” I shrugged. “And while we’re on embarrassing musical stories, I seem to recall you having a thing for Michael Jackson’s Man in the Mirror, only you kept singing, ‘and no moustache could have been any clearer’.”

Dave blushed again. “Oh please, I was only about 12 or something.”

“Yeah? I was 12 when you were driving me mad over wipeout, and you’re still telling the story!

Tom smiled and doing his Michael Jackson impression, carried the song on. “If you want to make the world a better place take a look at yourself and then make that... shave.”

We all laughed. 

“Excuse me a second,” Ryan left the room.

“If you want to talk misheard lyrics, you can’t beat our dad,” I smiled at the memory. “You know that Abba song, Chiquitita? He always used to sing Chicken Tikka. ‘Chicken Tikka, tell me the truth’.” I sang. 

“Our brother, Paul, has the best one of all time though,” Dave explained. “Everyone knows Bohemian Rhapsody but when Paul was about seven or eight, he kept singing, “Beelzebub has the devil for a sideboard.” 

“Did you correct him?” Tom asked me. 

“I was too young to, I didn’t know,” I explained. “And I think Dave enjoyed the fact he got it wrong.” I slanted a look at Dave. “In fact, I think Dave used to feed him wrong lyrics all the time. Remember ‘Scare a moose, scare a moose’?” I grinned.

“Bastard’s good at everything, I can’t enjoy the fact he fucks up such a well known song?” Dave growled. “I think he figured it out in his teens. I remember him being moody as fuck one day because his friends made fun of him for it. Now he knows better, but he does it just to annoy me.”

Ryan returned with a tray containing a selection of crispbread with various toppings, plus a pitcher of margaritas and 4 glasses. “Got to keep our strength up.”

“And our dutch courage,” I added. 

“Absolutely! Citrus is good for the vocal cords, as well!” He grinned as he handed me a glass. “Right, what’s next?”

“Let’s do something we can all join in on,” Dave suggested. “Anyone know any Queen?” 

“Not well enough to play without sheet music,” Tom admitted. “Unless, maybe Crazy Little Thing Called Love.” 

“I love that one! It’s a great dance tune! What about it Ryan? I’ll take the low parts if you’ll take the high ones!” 

“Deal!” 

Mounted on the wall over the keyboard was a huge flat screen TV because Dave limed to practice with some musical accompaniment sometimes, and Ryan liked watching Youtube guitar tutorials. Oh, the things you can afford when you’re a DINK. For the uninitiated, that’s Double Income No Kids household, and Dave does not like being called that, but that’s mainly because he think’s the word dinky doesn't reflect well on his manhood. So of course I use it whenever I can.

Ryan turned the telly on and spoke his google search into the remote. They’re gadget freaks too. Just about every room has an Alexa. It wouldn't surprise me if she was even wired into some of their sex toys! EWW! No, no, nasty stray thought! Back to lyrics. 

Even with the lyrics on screen, we still got some parts wrong because we were too busy trying to dance while seated and just generally hamming it up. 

“I hear Adam Lambert might leave Queen and try going solo again. You should audition,” I teased Ryan. 

He clasped his heart and uttered a gasp that would rival any of Ru Paul’s drag queens. 

“Sacrilege!” he pointed at me. “Get this blasphemer out of my house this instant! Away, demon! By the power of Gay I command you, leave this place!” 

We all laughed. His views on replacing Freddie Mercury were about on par with mine, only I wasn't quite so theatrical about it. 

When we finally stopped laughing we continued disavowing any new iterations of Queen for a minute or two, then we discussed songs again. 

“Hotel California,” I suggested, “Everyone knows that.” 

“Not known for it’s drum solos, though,” Tom reminded me. “But if it’s for everyone,” he turned to Ryan. “Don’t tell me you haven't learned to play Hey Jude yet?” 

“Well, it is one they usually teach beginners,” Ryan admitted. 

“That’s a yes,” Dave explained. “Come on, if I have to perform, so do you.” 

Tom handed Ryan his guitar and approached the keyboard. 

“All right, I can take a hint.” 

“How do you turn this thing on?” Tom asked, examining the keyboard.

“Need to turn it on at the plug.” Dave did it for him. 

“My saviour is here,” Tom teased and Dave smiled. He got the marvel quote, he just hadn't had the second realisation yet.

Tom sat down and played a chord, which sounded like a church organ. He switched it to piano and tried again. 

“There we go,” he smiled. 

“Is this a Gibson?” Ryan asked, examining Tom’s guitar. 

“It is,” Tom confirmed. “Beautiful instrument, you’ll love it.”

Ryan looked a little green around the gills and swallowed, probably understanding its worth. He slipped the strap around his neck despite already sitting down.

It had left me breathless for a moment when I realised how haphazardly I’d been slinging around a £2,000 guitar, but it had survived my laissez faire treatment, so I was fairly confident of its ability to survive Ryan’s playing. 

Tom  and Ryan played around for a few moments, familiarising themselves with their instruments. “Ready?” I asked when they quietened. 

They nodded and I counted to four then began. We’d sung this fairly often as kids. Dad had an accordion and Hey Jude was one of his favourites, so I was fairly confident the words would come back to me. If not, I didn't expect to be the only one singing, someone else would pick up my slack. 

There’s something about hey Jude, it just sort of unites people, like a world war two knees-up around the piano or something, except a totally different style. 

Usually I thought the na na na nas went on a bit long for my tastes but I’d have been happy carrying on longer tonight. The final note held for four beats, then we all clapped. 

“That was brilliant!” Ryan gushed. 

“It was! We should form a cover band! We could call it Duvet!”

“Dung Beatles more like,” I joked.

“Scarabs, if you don’t mind, Tom said loftily. 

“Oh we’re in treble now, boys!”

“Speaking of the Osmonds, and given geek boy here’s comic book addiction, we could be The Ozymandias… ians?” 

“Not the snappiest name,” Ryan laughed. 

I took a sip of my drink and helped myself to one of the last crispbreads. 

The evening continued in a similar vein with Ryan regularly bringing fresh treats and drinks to keep us nourished and hydrated. 

We played, drank, ate and sang for a good couple of hours. 

Tom dropped a few more Loki hints but it seemed my brother was determined to remain  as dense as Thor [Love it!]. Then Tom suggested Immigrant Song. It actually sounds really good on  an acoustic guitar and Dave  was able to provide drum backup, but I have no idea if he was true to the original or not. 

Tom handled most of the lyrics but Ryan and I join in on the bits we knew—basically the ah-aah-aaaah-ah bits. Turns out Ryan can get that bit really high when you pinch him at just the right moment! When the song finished We were all smiling. 

“I’d never really paid much attention to the lyrics before, but that stuff about hammer of the gods and what not, I can see why they used it for Ragnarok.”

And then I could literally see the penny drop as I watched the colour drain from Dave’s face. It was enough to gladden a sister’s heart!

“Wait, you— You’re not—? Holy fuck, you are!” 

We all cracked up laughing, Ryan even clapped. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” Dave rushed on. “It’s  just with the ginger and the glasses and the tan you’re so. . . and with the black and pale skin he’s so. . .”

Poor Dave. I was going to pay for not warning him earlier but it’s a sister’s job to torture their siblings. And honestly, I really did think he’d recognise Tom instantly. He even had a Loki action figure for Christ’s sake! 

“Sorry, mate. It’s all Rocky’s fault, you know” Tom ticked his chin at me.

I clutched my chest dramatically. “Under the bus! I can’t believe you pushed me under the bus, Tom!”

“Yes, well, I needed company under here, didn’t I?”

Ryan turned to Dave and slipped an arm around his waist. “They’re well matched, don’t you think?” They both turned to look at us. I stuck my tongue out at them.

Dave snorted, looking at Tom with pity and shaking his head. “Poor sod.”

Tom wrapped his arms around me from behind. “I know. But I like a challenge…”

I rubbed my arse against Tom and reached back to pat his bum. “It’s alright. He’s well up to the job!”

Dave groaned. “I’m going to need brain bleach after this night,” he muttered.

“Why don’t you play us some Hank Williams,” I suggested, to give Dave a chance to recover a bit. 

Tom played Move it on Over which we didn't know but on the choruses we could just echo him and be his backup singers. Everyone knows Hey, Good Lookin’, of course, and then he sang Your Cheatin’ Heart, which we knew from Patsy Cline (our dad was a fan) but the words were the same so we joined in. Dave had even recovered enough by then to back him up on the drums.

After that Ryan and I managed to do Chasing Cars together. He’d been teaching himself the tune and I’d been obsessed with that song it first came out. Then Tom and Dave were forced by popular demand to play In the Air Tonight, and Dave made the most of his drum solo, expanding it. 

“Couple of kids I went to school with had that song as their first dance at their wedding,” I laughed as I clapped. “I sat there trying not to giggle as they gazed into each other’s eyes while Phil sang, well if you told me you were drowning, I would not lend a hand.”

“Okay,” Dave held up his hand. “Worst first song to play at a wedding, winner gets the first serving of Ryan’s sinful sticky toffee pudding. Go!” he pointed at Tom. 

“Uh . . . U2, I Still Haven't Found What I’m Looking For.”

His suggestion was greeted with a mixture of laughter and wincing ‘Ooh!’s

“Rox,” Dave pointed at me. “And no, you can’t say Phil Collins!”

“Ummmm . . . My Chemical Romance, I Don’t Love You Like I Did Yesterday!”

“Ryan.”

“Don’t Marry her, Have Me, by The Beautiful South.”

“You turn,” I told Dave. 

“Lady Gaga, Bad Romance.” 

Then the suggestions were just flying and I could hardly keep up with who was suggesting what.

Tainted Love by Soft Cell, D.I.V.O.R.C.E. by Tammy Wynette, The Human League’s Don’t You Want Me Baby... Jar of Hearts... What’s Love Got to Do With It?... You Give Love a Bad Name

 You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling... Another One Bites the Dust... Highway to Hell... I’m All Out of Love, anything by Adele, You’re So Vain… You Can’t Always Get What You Want... I Will Survive... Gold Digger by Kanye, 

“No, I’ve got it,” Tom cut in. “Engelbert Humperdinck and Please Release Me, Let Me Go.”

“Step back!” Dave said. 

“We have a winner!” Ryan finished for him. Everyone clapped and cheered.

We adjourned back to the living room for dessert, Dave and Ryan going off hand in hand to the kitchen to fetch it. They’ve been together for about five years now, and it’s good to see they’re still just as lovey and gooey as they always were.

Tom pulled me down onto his lap on the sofa, making me giggle and squirm just as the boys returned with the sticky toffee.

Ryan handed me a double sized portion on a single plate, and went to sit on Dave's lap with theirs.

Tom moaned out loud when I fed him a spoonful, and everybody cracked up. Except Tom, who was too busy having a food orgasm.

“That’s brilliant stuff, Ryan! Can I have the recipe?” I nodded my head frantically, my mouth too stuffed with deliciousness to speak.

Ryan chuckled as he fed another spoonful to Dave and listened to his own moan of appreciation. 

“Nope. You’ll have to come back if you want more!”

Dave chimed in. “Oh yes, please do Tom! You can even bring my sister with you, if you must!” He leaned in confidentially, “Ryan only makes it for company, you see. It’s the only time I get it!”

Ryan rolled his eyes at Dave and turned his attention back to Tom. “But I’ll send the rest home with you, if you like.”

Tom popped the last bite into my mouth and shoved me off his lap, standing abruptly. “It must be getting awfully late! Don’t you think so, Rocky?” He stretched and yawned ostentatiously.

“Oh, um...yes.” I looked at my bare wrist. “Will you look at the time! I’ll just go get the rest and we’ll be off, shall we?”

Ryan laughed and shook his finger at us. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re planning on doing with my sticky toffee, you naughty things! Tell you what, I’ll even give you an extra pot,” he winked.

Dave thumped his head on Ryan's shoulder. “Ryannn,” he whined, “that’s my sister!”

Ryan turned his head and dropped a kiss on Dave’s head. “Oh like you aren’t planning something naughty for the extra piece I kept!”

Dave leapt up. “Here, let me help you with your coats! So sorry you can’t stay longer!”

Despite being hustled out we had hugs and kisses all around, and plenty of laughter.

“I like your brother. Ryan too. They’re nice chaps.” Tom said later as he was hanging my coat at his front door.

“Yeah Dave’s not bad. He got bloody lucky with Ryan, and he knows it too. Now, where’s that pudding? I have things to do with it!”

The smile on Tom’s face broadened into a leer. “Do you?”

“Yep. I have to give my boyfriend his just desserts for being such a good sport tonight.” I reached for the carrier that Ryan had given us, but Tom lifted it high over my head teasingly. 

I narrowed my eyes at the bag. Nah. Too high. Well, if Mohammed can’t get to the mountain, the mountain will have to come to Mohammed! 

“I’m not jumping for it!” I stamped my foot.

“But darling, it does such charming things to your...charms when you jump!”

I took a couple of steps back, and started to peel my jumper off. “Oh, I think my charms are fine just the way they are.” I reached back to undo my bra strap and the rustle of the bag hitting the floor signalled my victory. Darting under Tom’s arm as he lunged, I swiped my prize and scrambled for the sofa, holding the bag behind my back.

“To the victor go the spoils,” I grinned. 

“Too right,” Tom smiled. “Looks like I win either way…”

I glanced down at the girls. My bra had slipped down under one boob and the shoulder straps had come down to bind my elbows. Well, damn.

Tom strolled in front of me, reaching a finger out to push my bra the last bit off my other boob. I could have easily struggled out of my bra, but Tom looked so happy, what the hell.

Still being in possession of the bag, I raised my head defiantly. “You want my pudding?” I asked.

“Darling, I would love your pudding. Name your price?”

“Hmm,” I pretended to think aloud. “Nice newish car on the driveway… Decent bank balance… Lots of designer gear… Hmm… I want…” I drew it out. Maybe there was a little bit of drama queen in me. “... A kiss.”

“One kiss?” he clarified and I nodded. “One single, solitary kiss?” I nodded again. “That sounds easy enough, deal.”

“Oh, I may have forgotten to, mention, this kiss has to make my toes curl and forget my own name.”

“Is that all?” he smirked. “I think I can oblige.” 

Tom knelt on the floor, carefully taking the bag from my hand and setting it on the side table. He lifted his warm hands to cup my boobs, and I'm honestly not sure who moaned. His hands slid smoothly down my ribs to the waistband of my jeans and deftly undid them, pushing them down and helping me step out.

He nuzzled at the junction of my thighs and made a deep humming sound. Abruptly he stood and slung me over his shoulder. I shrieked as he grabbed the dessert bag and strode off to the kitchen.

He set me down on the edge of the table and opened the bag. “Now, let’s see what we can do with this…”

I opened my mouth to tell him just what he could do with it, but he beat me to it, sliding a finger full into my mouth and following it with his tongue. This time we both definitely moaned. God, the silky toffee flavours, combined with Tom’s tongue? Nirvana!

We giggled and fought a bit over the morsel, Tom trying to steal it back, but he conceded it at last and he let me swallow.

Putting a hand between my breasts he pushed me slowly back to lie on the table. I blinked up at him, still trussed helplessly in my bra, and licked my lips.

“Now I have you just where I want you, my pretty!”

I rather thought that I had him just where I wanted him! The bag rustled and he was dripping caramel sauce over my boobs with a maniacal grin. God, it’s cold! I shivered.

“Thank Christ he didn't make rice pudding!” I joked as Tom drizzled more toffee sauce over my nipple. 

“But baked Alaska might have been fun!” Tom suggested.

“Thanks, we’ve done that—” My words cut off as Tom’s hot mouth wrapped around my nipple, sucking the sauce off and leaving me nearly dizzy with want.

Tom stood back to admire the artistic swirl of sauce he’d left on my body, and fortunately for him, to take his clothes off. I growled at him for taking so long and opened my mouth to scold him, but he popped another bite of the sticky stuff into my mouth.

“Hush now, Rocky! None of your lip, I’m busy!”

He planted a large hand on my torso and began to very delicately lick up all the sweetness from my body. Oh god, he was driving me mad.

Heat was flowing through my body, making me squirm and I felt Tom’s chuckle vibrating on my skin. When he lifted my hips and took a long lick and swirl around my clit I nearly came off the table.

Then Tom was pushing into me at last, leaning over me to kiss me as he thrust into me, rocking us both on the table. I could feel the coil inside me tightening and tightening, Tom’s breath harsh in my ear. 

“Fuck, Rocky!” Tom’s burning eyes stared into mine and I couldn’t look away. His hand went between us, and at the first press of his fingers I exploded with a scream. Tom shouted along with me and I felt the hot wash of his release, both of us still grinding into each other the last little bit of pleasure.

“Oh,” I sighed, getting my breath back. “Thanks for pudding up with me.”

Tom chuckled at the awful pun. “I think you’re flan-tastic, Rocky.”

I groaned. “You know what this means,” I said with gravity. 

“What?”

“We need a bath now.”

“But you’re  cleaning the table!” 

[guernsey-island]

Please answer 1-98 >:3

Weird asks that say a lot

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?      water bottles 2. chocolate bars or lollipops?      chocolate bars 3. bubblegum or cotton candy?      cotton candy, though I don't like either very much 4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?      I don't know 5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?      plastic cups??? 6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?      sportswear I guess 7. earbuds or headphones?      I only have earbuds right now, but I like both 8. movies or tv shows?      tv shows, but that doesn't mean I don't like movies too 9. favorite smell in the summer?      the ocean 10. game you were best at in p.e.?      capture the flag 11. what you have for breakfast on an average day?      whatever I can find 12. name of your favorite playlist?      "Good Songs :D" 13. lanyard or key ring?      key ring 14. favorite non-chocolate candy?      I don't particularly like any non-chocolate candy. Too artificial and sweet :/ 15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?      Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes 16. most comfortable position to sit in?      leaning back and with my legs out 17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?      white converse 18. ideal weather?      raining or a mild temperature like 80 degrees F paired with high humidity 19. sleeping position?      I fall asleep on my side and wake up on my back 20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?      Google docs heheh 21. obsession from childhood?      I was one of those warrior cats kids (no, I didn't pretend to be warrior cats at recess) 22. role model?      Snickers 23. strange habits?      popping my back, checking sunset/sunrise times 24. favorite crystal?     all crystals are great 25. first song you remember hearing?      Counting Stars by OneRepublic 26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?      hiking 27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?      reading 28. five songs to describe you?      Modern Loneliness- Lauv // Scared of Heights- Loving Caliber // backpack- slchld // By Now- Will Jay // Come True- khai dreams, Forrest., Biskwiq 29. best way to bond with you?      don't annoy me 30. places that you find sacred?      the beach when no one is there or deep in the mountains 31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?      ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 32. top five favorite vines?      road work ahead, jared 19, damn daniel, 2 bros chillin in a hot tub, x files theme 33. most used phrase in your phone?      probably >:3 34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?      that spotify ad about peter and jumping/skipping rope. IF you knew what an 8track tape was!! 35. average time you fall asleep?      ~2:30am 36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?      the pepe the frog memes 37. suitcase or duffel bag?      suitcase 38. lemonade or tea?      lemonade but tea is also superb 39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?      lemon cake bc I've never had lemon meringue pie 40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?      I don't really remember. Let's go with Mr. Rightmyer and Mr. Mikow in general (ig matrix_multiplication). or maybe the time Sami put a lamp on her head and pretended to be Shaggy 41. last person you texted?      Snickers 42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?      jacket pockets 43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?      hoodie 44. favorite scent for soap?      hmmm something tropical 45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?      sci-fi 46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?      clothing 47. favorite type of cheese?      swiss or colby jack or parmigiano-reggiano 48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?      peaches bc they're the best fruit 49. what saying or quote do you live by?      "you become what you think about" "success is the progressive realization of a worthy goal or ideal"- Earl Nightingale "the opposite of courage is not cowardice, it is conformity" "sanity and happiness are an impossible combination"- Mark Twain "If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading"- Lao Tzu "failure will never overtake me if my determination to succeed is strong enough" - Og Mandino 50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?      let's go with https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TilHylia7rE and more recently, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voncdcV648g 51. current stresses?      upcoming exams, writing essays 52. favorite font?      My current favorites are Frank Ruhl Libre, Overlock, and Rajdhani 53. what is the current state of your hands?      good, though I perpetually have a bump on one finger from writing too much 54. what did you learn from your first job?      job?? what job? 55. favorite fairy tale?      three little pigs 56. favorite tradition?      sleeping 57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?      I don't know 58. four talents you’re proud of having?      Freestyling (ground moves and juggling), shooting knuckleballs, popping my back really well, running a 5-6 minute mile 59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?      I don’t know what my catchphrase would be 60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?      a shonen where the protagonist is trying to survive in a crazy world, become the best at something, or master some special power (examples: tower of god or solo leveling if it was an anime) OR something with a mafia 61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?      "Well, if you only knew how little I really know about the things that matter"- Elio in cmbyn the movie (think about this quote all the time) "Let us cultivate our garden"-Candide in Candide by Voltaire “The bird fights its way out of the egg. The egg is the world. Who would be born must first destroy a world. The bird flies to God. That God's name is Abraxas.”- Sinclair in Demian by Hermann Hesse “I wanted only to live in accord with the promptings which came from my true self. Why was that so very difficult?”- Sinclair in Demain by Hermann Hesse “Know yourself and go in swinging.”- More than this by Patrick Ness “Just leave me alone. I’m not myself. I’m falling apart, and I don’t want you here.”- Charlie in Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes Tons of quotes and references from Arthur, httyd, and other media 62. seven characters you relate to?      Lance (vld), zuko (atla), okonkwo (things fall apart), nwoye (things fall apart), bokuto (haikyuu), sinclair (demian), hiccup (httyd) 63. five songs that would play in your club?      Wednesday Girl- Elijah Who, Aso, Peachy!, Kudasaibeats, slchld // Way Back Home- SHAUN, Conor Maynard, Sam Feldt // Let Me Down Slow (Acoustic)- New Hope Club // Crush Culture- Conan Gray // All Night Long- TAEYEON, LUCAS 64. favorite website from your childhood?      animal jam 65. any permanent scars?      I have a ton of scars on my legs and knees. I ran into a cart at staples once and have a big scar from that. I have a few scars on my elbows too 66. favorite flower(s)?      columbine (CO state flower) 67. good luck charms?      none 68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?      I have no idea 69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?      I don’t know 70. left or right handed?       right 71. least favorite pattern?      cheetah or zebra print 72. worst subject?      hmmm biology but only bc I don't put in the effort 73. favorite weird flavor combo?      I don't know. I like food 74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?      I don't think I've experienced enough pain to accurately answer this question. I've only taken ibuprofen once (when I got my wisdom teeth taken out), but I didn't think it was that necessary to take 75. when did you lose your first tooth?      probably when I was six 76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?      scalloped potatoes, hash browns, Spanish tortillas, potato salad, mashed potatoes 77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?      aloe vera 78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?      sushi from a grocery store 79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?      school ID 80. earth tones or jewel tones?      earth tones 81. fireflies or lightning bugs?      they're called fireflies 82. pc or console?      pc 83. writing or drawing?      writing 84. podcasts or talk radio?      podcasts 84. barbie or polly pocket?      no 85. fairy tales or mythology?      mythology 86. cookies or cupcakes?      cookies 87. your greatest fear?      Accidentally biting off my tongue and then choking on it, seeing things in mirrors, being stabbed with a knife as I enter a hotel elevator, receiving emails 88. your greatest wish?      Happiness??? I don’t know 89. who would you put before everyone else?      Snickers 90. luckiest mistake?      I don't know 91. boxes or bags?      boxes 92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?      sunlight 93. nicknames?      let's not talk abt that,,, 94. favorite season?      spring or summer 95. favorite app on your phone?      google play books, goodreads, tumblr, kakaotalk, spotify, google keep 96. desktop background?      it's a slideshow. the background at the moment is a photo of Manarola, Italy taken by Peter Hegedus. It's one of my favorite photographs of all time 97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?      three not including 911 (so four) 98. favorite historical era?     1300s in the Mongol empire or around when the spice trade was at its peak, 1800s in America during westward expansion, 1920s, ancient egypt, Harlem Renaissance 

[master-sass-blast]

Wade. No. Stop.

Sometimes, I write fluff. Sometimes, I write angst.

Sometimes, I write crack

Welcome to the drug trip.

Summary: Wade finds out that Piotr grew up on a farm and teases the two of you relentlessly about enjoying cow play. He crosses an unforgivable line, and you decide to get revenge.

Pairings: Piotr Rasputin x Reader, Nathan Summers x Wade Wilson, and Ellie Phimister x Yukio.

Rating: M for utter sexual inappropriateness, vague descriptions of vomiting, and strong language.

Many thanks to the CACAT discord for helping me come up with some of Wade’s various pranks.

Being best friends with Wade Wilson comes with a number of advantages.

First, if you ever need someone to help you hide a body at 3:48 in the morning during a tornado watch, he’s your guy. He’ll even take you out for pancakes afterward.

Second, his extensive knowledge of the Internet and all things Golden Girls makes him a surprisingly valuable ally on trivia night.

Third, he always has a vast supply of junk food on hand, hidden in little stores around his room --in airtight containers to keep bugs out, thank you Nathan. Snack nights with Wade are the best.

Fourth, he’s genuinely everything you’d ever want in a big brother. Severely inappropriate sense of humor with a gun collection he’s happy to let you borrow from and the best taste in spike heels? Uh, yes please!

You know, not to mention the fact that he loves on you at any given opportunity like the touch-starved octopus he is, will happily waste a day watching YouTube or movies with you if you’re feeling down, and always checks before each shark week to make sure you’re stocked on everything you might need --even though he knows that you and Piotr manage that just fine, he says you deserve to have someone checking in on you.

Which is wonderful. He’s wonderful. In his own weird, mildly stabby sort of way.

However, there are times where being friends with Wade comes with... challenges. Let’s call them challenges.

First challenge: Wade is a purely destructive force of nature when he gets bored.

And not in the ‘I-tried-to-do-wood-shop-things-and-broke-a-few-power-tools’ kind of way.

He’s most liable to go to Blind Al’s and get high on cocaine. Which was unnerving the first couple times he did it, admittedly. Wade gets extremely wound up when he’s on coke, and while his dust bunny catching skills are impressive, the French maid’s outfit he prances around is not.

That particular incident had been a distinct feature in your nightmares for several weeks. You’re still not sure you’re over it.

Fortunately, though, now that he and Nathan are together, most of Wade’s coke episodes are handled by the time-traveling cyborg. He simply scoops Wade up with some telekinesis, takes him to their shared room, and stays in there with him until Wade comes down from his high.

Unfortunately, however, Wade’s boredom fits don’t always involve coke --and, when they don’t, Nathan’s ability to circumvent Wade’s destructive tendencies runs out pretty quickly.

When Wade isn’t coking himself out, he’s shooting things. Or blowing things up. Or lighting them on fire. Or... doing unspeakable things to them.

And, since none of the telepaths in the mansion can read Wade to figure out what he’s doing ahead of time, there’s no stopping him beforehand. It’s always follow the sounds of destruction and clean it up afterward.

Which is what the ‘flaming pool incident,’ the ‘juggling chainsaws incident,’ and the ‘whipped cream in the fire suppression sprinkler system’ are all categorized as. As are the ‘carpet of actual kittens, Wade how did you even get this many kittens, oh god Remy’s allergic to cat hair someone get his Epi-Pen,’ the ‘mac and cheese overflowing from all the toilets,’ the ‘how did Poptarts get glued to the ceiling?’, the ‘wait, you aren’t actually barbecuing a person, oh shit you are, WADE NO, I don’t care if it was for a job and you only need a picture and you weren’t actually going to eat it,’ and the ‘en masse tp-ing’ incidents. Not to mention--

Perhaps the list ought to be left for another time. You know Scott has a file cabinet or two devoted to Wade’s exploits, and there’s no way you’re going to make it through all of them right now.

(Though, in Wade’s defense, if he had known Remy had allergies to cat hair, he wouldn’t have brought cats into the mansion.)

Second challenge: Wade will argue with anything.

True story. It doesn’t even have to be breathing. You’ve watched him carry on a two hour argument with a plastic ficus at Sister Margaret’s. And he lost.

Admittedly, this comes in handy when the game of the night at the X-Mansion is ‘debater’s table.’ You and Wade have an unbroken winning streak.

Unfortunately, that winning streak is only a total of one because everyone decided --aside from you and Wade--that ‘debater’s table’ would be banned henceforth. Possibly maybe definitely because you tried to supplex Scott through the table when he called one of your points ‘uninspired.’

In your defense, Wade tried to help.

In both of your defenses, they really should’ve known better than to put two of the most combative people in the house on the same team --let alone play such a competitive game with them.

Extra unfortunately, Wade’s argumentative streak is the literal biggest pain in anyone’s ass at any other given time.

Especially when rules are involved.

“Wade!”

“Hang on! Hang on!” you shout as you hear your boyfriend tromp through the mansion in defense mode. You grab your bag of insta-popcorn from the microwave and run in the direction of Piotr’s angry stomping, swearing as you toss the searing bag from hand to hand. You sprint towards the clinic room Wade is being patched back together in and dive into your chair, perched between Ellie and Neena.

Neena opens the bag without burning herself, somehow. “Thanks. These are a pain in the ass to sit through without a snack.”

Ellie reaches across you and grabs a handful for her and Yukio to share. “Try to get the Parmesan cheese kind next time. The generic flavor is boring.”

“I tried, but I think we’re out. We’ll have to restock.” When you realize Piotr is watching you four with a mildly exasperated expression, you wave your hand at him. “You can start now. We’re ready.”

He shakes his head, then refocuses on Wade --who’s still regrowing a leg and several bullet holes. “Wade. How many times do I have to say--”

“You can say my name as much as you want, you big silver stud,” Wade interjects before your boyfriend even had a chance to work up a head of steam. “I never get tired of hearing it.”

“Down, boy,” Nathan mutters in his seat next to Wade’s hospital bed.

“What is first rule?” Piotr asks, arms crossed over his chest.

“Label everything in the refrigerator.”

You wince internally as you watch Piotr restrain himself from yanking Wade out of the bed and slamming him against the nearest wall. “Why does he keep opening with that?” you whisper to Ellie. “It never works.”

“Because he’s hoping it will someday,” Ellie whispers back. “Pass the popcorn.”

“You know that is not first rule,” Piotr growls --and damn if that doesn’t do something for you--accent thickening with his anger. “As much as you play idiot, you are not one.”

“Oh, honeypie, I’m touched! But not in the way I’d like to be, if you know what I me--”

You cough pointedly, and Wade relents with an apologetic gesture of his hands.

“Point stands, Tin Man on steroids, I genuinely don’t know what I’ve done wrong or what I’ve done to deserve this raging Russian display of restrained passion --not that I’m complaining, mind you--”

“Rule One: No killing. Ever.” Piotr’s jaw flexes, and there’s a slight metal scraping noise as he grits his teeth. “How is that so hard to understand?”

“Uh, because some people deserve to die. Specifically, the actual child traffickers we were fighting today. Because they’re actual. Child. Traffickers.”

“You do not have right to take lives!”

“Uh, like hell I do! Did you miss the part where they were child traffickers?”

“Who’s winning?” Yukio asks quietly as she scoops more popcorn into her mouth.

“Unfortunately, I think Wade is,” Ellie murmurs.

“You can’t honestly look at me and say the world is worse off for me having killed those guys. Honestly.”

Piotr’s hands clench into fists. He’s on the losing side of the argument, and he knows it. “Your actions reflect on all of mutant kind.”

“Not a mutant, my comrade. I’m a reject science experiment. Come on, the first movie literally covered this in extreme, nude detail!”

“Your actions still reflect on X-Men. We can’t afford to have easily misconstrued actions on our hands.”

Wade shrugs. “Hey, you asked me to come with. You know how I handle people like that, and you asked me anyway. Frankly, I’m not sure I like that you’re willing to let fuckers like that live for the sake of your image.”

Piotr’s jaw tenses.

“Holy shit,” Neena breathes. “He’s winning. He’s literally regrowing a limb. How is this even possible?”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” you mutter. “Wade fucking Wilson.”

“Need I remind you that staying at X-Mansion is privilege,” Piotr says, tone icy. “Those who cannot follow rules cannot stay.”

“Fine. I know where the door is. Say the word and I’m gone. I’m still gonna deal with the irredeemable assholes of the world the way I always do whether I’m here or not: scrub them out, one at a time, until there aren’t any left and I can finally retire for the rest of eternity.”

You’re starting to see just exactly why Nathan fell for Wade.

Piotr glares at the mouthy merc for a moment before turning on his heel and storming out of the room.

Wade flops back against his bed with a wince and sighs. “I take it that one goes to me?”

“Amazingly, yes,” Ellie says as she stands, hand already wrapped around Yukio’s. “Stop killing people, dipshit.”

“No can do, Negasonic Beetlejuice. Bye, Yukio!”

“Bye, Wade!”

You toss the empty popcorn bag into the trash and brush your hands off on your pants. “I’m gonna go find Piotr before he implodes on himself.”

You could technically add in Wade’s less than lucid days and grumpy pain-slash-feeling suicidal days in as challenges, but you don’t think there’s anyone in the mansion that would have the heart to assign that to the him as a consequence of his own behavior and choices.

Which, by default, only leaves one other challenge: Wade’s perverted sense of humor.

Wade’s sense of humor is like a fire hydrant: all or nothing. Unstoppable once it’s started. Overwhelming in every sense of the word.

Unlike a fire hydrant, it’s also largely sexual.

Which happens into some less than stellar moments where Wade hits on anything in sight --including your boyfriend--not so much because he wants to fuck whatever he’s laid eyes on, but because he loves the reactions his increasingly horrifying innuendos get.

And, admittedly, he’s funny ninety-nine percent of the time. He has a mouth that won’t quit and he’s not afraid to use it.

However, he does happen into that one percent of the time where it’s just. Too. Much.

Cue the cow-play incident and your revenge on Wade for all his related wrong doings.

You’re all sitting around the kitchen table when the fateful bit of information comes out.

“Wait, hold the fucking phone for a minute.” Wade stares at Piotr, shocked. “You grew up on a farm?”

Piotr nods. “Da. In Siberia.”

“What did you farm? Ice?”

That gets an eye roll. “Nyet, Wade. Cattle, mostly. It was easiest to maintain.”

“Well I’ll be darned,” Wade says in an offensively hickish Southern accent. “Ol’ Petey-pie’s jus’ a regular cowboy, ain’t he?”

“Stop it,” Ellie says flatly as she scrolls through Tumblr. “You sound stupid.”

“That was the point, Negasonic laser canon, thank you very much.” He refocuses on Piotr with a familiar glint in his eye. “So, is it stereotypical of me to ask if you two do the cowgirl position a lot?”

You flick a Cheeto at him while Piotr sighs heavily. “Stop it. Stop being gross.”

“Okay, that’s fine. I don’t want to know about all your cow-play activities anyway.”

And that’s... not a term you’re familiar with. You dig your phone out of your pocket and type in the term into your search engine.

Across the table, Ellie sucks in a breath. “Y/N, no!”

It’s too late.

It’s all too late.

Your precious brain will never be the same.

You stare down at the Urban Dictionary definition, unable to tear your gaze away as your brain tries to comprehend the horrors of Wade’s implications.

Next to you, Piotr drops his head into his hands. “Wade, no--”

“So you do know what it is! You kinky fuck! Here I thought you wouldn’t want to be milked--”

That mental image makes you scream. You drop to the floor and cover your face with your hands. “Oh God, why? Why! Wade, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Hey, no kinkshaming! As long as you two are both consenting--”

“Shut! Up!” You roll to your feet and glare at him. “I didn’t need to know about any of that! I was fine just the way I was without learning about that corner of the world!”

“Oh, but you so weren’t!” Wade cackles. “Man, your reaction was priceless--”

You charge after him, hellbent on beating the ever living shit out of him.

You do, but it’s too late.

Wade’s hooked on the joke.

It starts with texts. Usually late at night, when Wade’s still up and normal people are trying to sleep.

The first one comes in the same night at two in the morning. 

It takes a moment for your eyes to focus on the small lettering, but when they do you wish they hadn’t.

Bro: So, how did the milking session go tonight?

Piotr groans when you toss your phone across the room. “What?”

You flop down next to him with a huff. “Don’t even ask.”

From there, it just gets worse. Not only do the texts become at least a daily feature in your life, but Wade starts tormenting you and Piotr in other ways.

Bro: Question. Does Colossus ‘moo’ when he climaxes?

You: Fuck. Off.

You hadn’t thought anything of it other than Wade was hellbent on being an annoying prick, and had shoved your phone into your pocket.

Until later that night, when Wade loudly, dramatically shouts “I can’t find my phone!”

And Piotr, being the kind and gentle soul that he is, says “I can call it.”

You spy Wade’s phone on the kitchen table, in very obvious and plain view, which isn’t anything suspicious because Wade could lose anything, anywhere.

What is suspicious, however, is the devious grin Wade’s wearing.

You almost tell Piotr to hang up, but the call connects before you can say anything.

Wade’s phone vibrates across the table, playing the distinctive sounds of cows mooing in chorus.

You smack your palm against your forehead, while Piotr merely sighs and hangs up. “Just stop it already!”

After that, it’s just unstoppable.

You find cow everything everywhere. Black and white pictures taped inside the covers of books or tucked in your shoes. A bundle of cow fridge magnets addressed to your boyfriend in red crayon --not subtle, Wade, by the way. An email with a couple’s Halloween costume set of a farmer and --you guessed it--a dairy cow.

The subject line of the email reads “Because milking should be an equal opportunity pastime,” which really should’ve been all the hint you needed.

And the texts. Holy fucking tits, the texts.

They’re horrible. Obscene. They use entirely too many emojis in ways that the app creators never intended!

Bro:  philly cheesesteak all in that order, chili cheese fries as a starter got the steroids keeping me stronger bitch im a cow, bitch im a cow, i am not a cat, i dont say meow bitch im a cow, bitch im a cow

Bro:  ca$h rules everything around me ice cream ice cream you a calf bitch, you ma daughter i ain't bothered get slaughtered got the methane, i'm a farter with my farmer mcdonald and they feed me real good, it's a honor

Bro: I took the liberty of doing a little redecorating before leaving town for my job. Hope you like it!

Okay, that last text isn’t necessarily obscene, but it is... concerning.

You meet Piotr right by the main staircase. He looks just as panicked as you do, which means he got the text, too. “How bad do you think it’s gonna be?”

He looks up the flight of stairs, expression fearful. “Probably worse than what I could imagine.”

The two of you climb the stairs in silence, proceeding like prisoners to their slaughter --execution.

Dammit Wade.

There’s a trail of straw in the hallway that leads to your shared bedroom.

“Oh God no,” you whisper. “Please. No.”

Piotr groans. “This will be impossible to clean up.”

“I think there are other priorities to think about here.”

“I can’t. If I do, I might go insane.”

You walk together to the bedroom door, which has a note attached to it.

You’re welcome for fulfilling all your kinky dreams! --Wade

Piotr tears the note off and crumples it. He put his hand on the door knob, then looks at you. “Like bandaid, da?”

You take a deep breath, steel yourself, then nod. “My body is ready.”

He pushes the door open, and--

It’s worse than you could’ve imagined.

The floor is covered with straw, from corner to corner. On the desk is a machine that looks extremely suspect--

Piotr groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “...blyad.”

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Da.”

“Dammit, Wade.” You spy a Hello Kitty sticky note attached to the side and peel it off.

Fun fact! You can buy Dairy Cow milking machines at Walmart! Who knew? --Wade

Perhaps most suspect, however, is the massive cardboard box sitting on your bed.

With a sigh, you walk over and tear it open. “May as well get it over with. How bad could it be?”

So much worse, is the answer. Apparently.

Sitting right on top are a cattle prod and a branding iron.

You close your eyes and try to breathe through the aneurysm you’re suffering from right now. “Life Lesson Number One: It can always get worse, especially when Wade’s involved.”

There’s also a pack of gloves that go all the way up to the shoulder, a coupon for a free septum piercing, and a book.

On.

Artifical. Fucking. Insemination.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, and it takes all your will power not to chuck it out the window. You inhale deeply and look down at the screen.

Bro: You like it?

You: FUCK. YOU.

The final straw, believe it or not, actually comes a few weeks later. Because you draw the line at being made to vomit.

You’re in the kitchen, innocently pouring yourself a glass of milk to go with a few cookies you’d swiped from one of Wade’s snack stashes when the merc himself walks in.

He stops, waits for you to eat one of the cookies and drink half the glass of milk, then cocks his head to the side and says, “You know, I may have not expected you to milk Pete, but I sure as fuck didn’t think you would store it in the fridge and drink it.”

And that sentence --along with the mental image it conjures up-is enough to make you gag. Your eyes water and your stomach churns, and you have to set down your glass of milk to keep from spilling it all over yourself.

Wade’s waiting, grinning deviously, clearly expecting you to give him hell for what he just said.

Except you don’t. You can’t. You can’t get the mental image of... that out of your head, and it’s making you nauseous.

You sprint past Wade and to the nearest bathroom. You throw open the door, flip the toilet lid and seat up with a resounding smack, and brace yourself for the oncoming storm.

Halfway through puking everything in your stomach, Piotr darts in and pulls your hair away from your face. “Myshka, is everything alright? Are you sick? What happened?”

“She can’t talk,” Ellie says somewhere in the background. “She’s puking. And Douchepool’s looking pretty guilty.”

You can almost hear the glare Piotr gives Wade. “Wade. What did you do?”

“I wasn’t trying to make her puke!”

You dry heave once, twice, and then when you’re sure nothing else is coming up anytime soon you glare over your shoulder at the merc and point an accusing finger at him. “This means war. I’m going to fucking murder you.”

Wade, at least, has the decency to look sheepish. “Yeah, I probably deserve it.”

You’re in the middle of plotting what exactly you’re going to do to Wade --high road be damned, Piotr, some things just required a strong response--when you happen upon a calendar and realize what’s coming up in three days.

It’s perfect. Fated by the universe. There was never a better time for revenge than now.

You fish twenty dollars out of your wallet and go in search of Nathan.

The older man’s in his room, sitting at his desk while he glares down various monitors with findings about various corrupt politicians, black markets, and skeezy billionaires.

You knock on the door frame. “Got a minute?”

“Sure.” He swivels in his chair and takes off his reading glasses. “What can I help you with, kid?”

You hold out the twenty dollars to him. “I made a deal with you about six months ago. You helped me escape Wade’s rant on Halloween in exchange for me promising to help you prank Wade. And twenty bucks.”

He accepts the cash with a sly smirk. “You did.”

“I take it I don’t have to bring you up to speed about Wade’s latest bullshit?”

“You don’t.”

“So, here’s what I’m thinking: I help you prank Wade, and I also get my revenge. Sound good?”

He grins. “Mutually beneficial. Good way of thinking.”

“Great. Do you have a driver’s license?”

“I have a fake one.”

“Close enough. We need to get some supplies.”

There are, of course, a few ground rules.

“One, no destroying anything. Two, nothing about Vanessa; I don’t want to give him a mental break down. Three, nothing I can get in trouble with the Professor for.”

Nathan nods. “Sounds reasonable.”

The first stop is Whole Foods, where the two of you get the blandest, healthiest, boring-est stuff you can find. 

Quinoa. So much quinoa. You never want to see this much quinoa again in your life.

The next stop is Home Depot. You clean them out of leaf blowers.

The stop after that is Lowes. You clean them out of leaf blowers, too.

The average person might find it suspect that your plan requires so many leaf blowers. You really don’t care about what average people think.

After the hardware stores, you stop at a craft store and buy as many plain t shirts as you can and enough fabric markers and puff paint to stock a summer camp.

When you drag everything into yours and Piotr’s room --sans leaf blowers, you leave those in the trunk of Nathan’s car for the time being--you boyfriend gives you a puzzled look. “Myshka? What is all this for?”

You grin up at him. “Revenge. Duh.”

He sighs. “Moya lyubov’, I thought we talked about taking high road.”

“I promised Cable I would help him prank Wade for April Fool’s! You wouldn’t want me to go back on my word, would you?”

It’s a bullshit argument, granted, but it’s not one he can technically out talk you on without giving himself a headache. He sighs and gives you his patented “dad look.” “Y/N.”

“Piotr. We’re not destroying anything, we got our own stuff to make sure we weren’t damaging X-Men property, and we’re not doing anything that relates to Vanessa. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He relents with a sigh. “Very well. Since you are being responsible about it, I will not complain.”

You lean up on your toes and kiss his cheek. “Thank you, honey. Can I ask one little favor, though?”

“...Da.”

“Can we use your forty-eight hour or less delivery thing with Amazon? There’s some stuff we couldn’t find at the craft store that we still need to get.”

The night before April Fool’s, you and Nathan put everything into motion while Wade’s out of the house on a job.

You switch out all his snack stashes with the healthy, delicious, bland shit you got from Whole Foods; you commandeer the food, hiding it in yours and Piotr’s room.

“It’s just for a day or two, and then I’ll give most of it back!”

“All of it.”

“Ugh, fine!”

Next, you hide all his shirts and replace with them blank ones you’d gotten from the craft store --after writing “I hate Bea Arthur” on all of them with fabric markers and puff paint.

The cherry on top, though, is the death gauntlet you and Nathan construct in the backyard. You tarp off the sides and the tops, put a spraying rig at the very front filled with aerated spirit gum, and attach the leaf blowers at regular intervals down the length of the gauntlet.

And then you fill the barrels of said blowers with glitter.

“Where’d you even get this idea?” Nathan asks as he eyes the fruits of your mutual labor.

“Wade,” you say as you pull the final piece of the puzzle out of your backpack --Wade’s unicorn, Mr. Fluffykins. “He wanted to do this to Scott.”

Nathan chuckles, sharp and gravely. “Nice.”

You carefully carry Mr. Fluffykins down the gauntlet, careful not to disturb any of the glitter canons on your way. You set him on a pedestal out of range of the canons, give him a pat, then creep back down the gauntlet again. Once you’re free, you exhale and grin at Nathan. “I think we’ve got April Fool’s day pretty well in hand, don’t you?”

He grins back. “I’m inclined to agree.”

The day starts, delightfully enough, with Wade wailing at the top of his lungs.

You snicker as you sit down at the kitchen table while Piotr rummages around in the fridge --having anticipated the absolute hell today would bring, he’s already in defense mode. “Do you think it’s the shirts, the unicorn, or the snacks?”

He shakes his head, but you can just barely see the corner of the amused smile he’s wearing. “No comment.”

Wade storms into the kitchen, looking pissed off. “What the fuck did you do with Mr. Fluffykins? Where is he?”

You smirk. “Good morning. How’d you sleep?”

“Perfectly fucking fine, until I realized that my one and only unicorn love was missing. Where. Is. He.”

“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”

Wade flips you off and storms upstairs. Less than five minutes later, you hear him shriek again. “Quinoa? I hate quinoa!”

You revel in self satisfaction as Nathan’s cackling and Wade’s bitching float down the stairs. Strap in, bro. It’s gonna be a rough fucking day for you.

Wade throws an absolute shit fit when he finds the shirts --“How dare you! How fucking dare you!”--but largely spends the whole day searching the mansion for Mr. Fluffykins.

After a quick confer, you and Nathan decided to not tell Wade about the outdoor gauntlet until he notices it or gives up.

It isn’t until three in the afternoon that Wade finally notices the giant tarped structure outside, which is a record even for his track record of obliviousness.

You and Nathan stand a safe distance away as Wade scampers around the construction, looking for a quick way in and out. “You remembered to hide his knives too, right?”

Nathan gives you a look that says ‘yes, what kind of idiot do you think I am?’

“And you can handle the glue sprayer and the leaf blowers with your telekinesis, right?”

“Relax. It’ll be fine.”

“For us. Not for Wade.”

By the time Wade figures out just what he’s looking at, a small crowd including the X-Force, Logan, Remy, Scott, Jean, and Hank has gathered by the back door.

Wade jabs an accusing finger at you. “You! You did this! You traitor!”

“This is what happens when you take your jokes too far!” You retort. “This is what happens when you joke about things that aren’t meant to be joked about! You dig your grave, and you lie in it!”

Nathan simply holds out a pair of lab goggles and a dust mask. “You might want these.”

Wade gapes at him. “Et tu, Brutus?”

“Take them now or spit up glitter for the next decade. Your choice.”

Wade snatches the goggles and mask before Nathan can take them away. “Just for this, buster,” he grumbles as he puts on the goggles. “You’re sleeping on the couch for the next two weeks.”

Nathan chuckles. “Sure thing, princess. Whatever you say.”

Wade flips him off as he adjusts the mask over his mouth, then walks over to the front of the gauntlet. He inhales deeply, stretches, then mutters “maximum effort” before sprinting down the gauntlet.

There’s a series of screams as Wade flails around inside. They pause when he reaches the safe zone and procures Mr. Fluffykins, then start anew --with added vigor now that his unicorn is being exposed to the glitter death run--when he bolts for the only exit.

A chorus of laughter erupts behind you as Wade emerges, covered head to toe in every conceivable shade of glitter and a sheen of glue.

You smirk triumphantly at him as he tries --and fails--to brush the glitter off him and Mr. Fluffykins, then spin on your heel and strut inside.

Victory to you.

Later that night, when your sitting in a pile of Wade’s snacks, watching YouTube videos and shoving Keebler Fudge Stripes in your mouth, someone knocks on the door.

“Come in!” You smile deviously when Wade shuffles in. “Ah! Have we learned our lesson?”

“I had to take a three hour shower before I stopped rinsing glitter out of my ass! How is this fair?”

“You bought us a milker, a book on artificial insemination, and covered our floor in straw. We’re still finding pieces of straw everywhere.”

Wade grimaces. “Okay, fair enough.”

“Also. You made me vomit!”

“I said fair enough!”

You cross your arms over your chest. “Wade, I’m serious. I love you like a brother, but there are times where you go too fucking far--”

Wade holds up his hands in a calming gesture. “I know. I figured that out when I made you puke. I’m sorry.”

“I just... I really don’t appreciate you joking about my sex life to that extent. I know it makes Piotr uncomfortable on any level, but it really crossed the line after the cow magnets.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I wanted it to be funny, not traumatizing.”

“I know.” You smile fondly --albeit somewhat exasperatedly--at him. “And I forgive you. I really do. But Piotr needs to hear you say that, too.”

“What do I need to hear?” Piotr asks as he walks into the room.

“I’m sorry for taking the cow play stuff too far,” Wade says without prompting. “I took it too far.”

Piotr blinks, clearly shocked by the freely given apology, and then he smiles and pats Wade’s shoulder. “All is forgiven. Just... don’t do it again. Please.”

Wade nods. “Trust me, I won’t. I know when I’ve had my ass handed to me.”

You smirk triumphantly. “You mess with the bull, you get the horns.”

Wade opens his mouth, closes it, then groans. “I can’t comment, can I?”

“Nope. Suffer, bitch.” 

Wade looks like he’s about to physically explode, but manages to contain himself. “Can I at least have my snacks back?”

“Da,” Piotr interjects before you can say anything. “Please. Take them.”

You sputter, outraged. “What? No! Not fair! My tastebuds are in heaven.”

“Myshka, you promised you would give everything back.”

You continue sputtering as Wade starts scooping his goodies back into his boxes, then start squawking when Piotr starts helping. It devolves into a tug of war over a box of Cheez-Its that end with Piotr holding you out of reach of the snacks and with the three of you laughing.

Yeah, being friends with Wade comes with challenges.

But, for as many downs as there are, there are at least as many --if not more--ups.

It’s a friendship you wouldn’t trade for the world.

[rpoli3]

Please tell us a little bit about yourself.

I publish under multiple names in fiction and non-fiction, and am an internationally-produced playwright and radio writer. I spent the bulk of my career working backstage on Broadway, and a little bit in film and television production.

How long have you been writing for?

I started writing when I was six; I was published in school literary magazines, and, in high school, published in local papers when I handled publicity for the music department.  I started working professionally in theatre when I was 18. In college, my major was film and television production, and I veered away from the writing and more into technical aspects. Working off-Broadway, I started writing monologues for actresses looking for good material; that grew into plays, and then back into short stories and novels. So I’ve been writing for A Very Long Time.

What motivates you to write? How did you begin writing?

Writing is how I make sense of the world. How I explore other lives from the inside and the outside.

Do you have a writing routine? If so, what’s a typical day like for you?

I do my first 1K of the day on what I call my  “Primary Project” (whatever’s being drafted) early in the day. Feed the cats, do my yoga/meditation practice, write my first 1K of the day.

The rest of the day shapes up depending on if I’m doing only my own work, or a mix of my own work and client work and other freelance writing gigs. It’s shaped by what’s on the tightest deadline and the highest paycheck. I prefer to write in the morning and edit in the afternoons. Since I’m always juggling multiple projects, there are usually a handful of projects in various draft stages, and then some more in editing or galleys.  Scriptwriting usually requires a much tighter turnaround than books, so when those jobs come in, they take priority. Sometimes, I just have to stay up later or get up earlier to get it all done.

What was the first thing you did when you found out your book was being published?

Cried. Tears of joy, but I cried.

What was the publishing process like? How long did it take?

Months, of course. For me, there’s generally been one major edit from the editor’s initial notes and discussion, and then one to two more rounds of edits with the editor, with a tighter turnaround. Then, the copyeditor is brought in, and we have those edits and galleys. When I have unusual people names or place names or phrases in other languages, I submit that with the draft that goes to the editor and the copyeditor, so they can help me stay consistent.

For the series I write, keeping the Series Bibles updated is vital, too. As soon as a book is out of final galleys and headed for release, I update the Series Bible. I use tracking sheets for details that may change within drafts, but once it’s finalized, I update the Series Bible. That way, an inconsistency is a plot or character choice, not a mistake.

Are you currently working on anything new?

Always! The radio plays are getting a lot of traction right now, and I have four stage plays to finish this year: one on the painter Canaletto’s sisters; one on the gun violence epidemic; a collection of monologues called WOMEN WITH AN EDGE RESIST that’s a follow-up to one of my most popular plays, WOMEN WITH AN EDGE; and a play about two famous women authors. Plus, I have to keep up with the series I’m writing — The Gwen Finnegan Mysteries, The Coventina Circle Paranormal Romantic Suspense Series, the lighter Nautical Namaste Mysteries, and a few one-offs. Plus client work. So I’m always, always working on something new. This is my passion, but it is also my business, not my hobby. It’s how I keep a roof over my head.

If you weren’t a writer, what would your career be?

Still working on Broadway, as a dresser. Or, if I hadn’t gone down the theatre/writing path at all, probably an archaeologist.

What’s one thing you learned through writing that you wish you knew before you started?

Don’t let others define you. Define yourself. And realize that your life and your career are always a work in process.

What is your favorite book, genre, or author?

I don’t have just one of any of them! My favorite, favorite book, the one I’d need on a desert island, is THE COMPLETE WORKS OF SHAKESPEARE. I never get tired of Shakespeare. I also love POSSESSION, by AS Byatt.  Genre would probably be mystery. I find it often the most satisfying, although, as a writer, I like to mix it with other elements of other genres. Author? I don’t have a single favorite. Again, I always go back to Shakespeare. But it was Louisa May Alcott and Harriet Beecher Stowe who were the big inspirations for me to write. And Mildred Wirt Benson, the original writer of the Nancy Drew books as “Carolyn Keene.” She did another series, under her own name, with a heroine named Penny Parker. Penny is such a brat, but she’s hilarious.

I collect juvenile series mysteries from the early twentieth century: Beverly Gray, Vicki Barr, Judy Bolton, all of those. The racism in them is shocking, but it’s also a good snapshot of what was considered “normal” at the time and why we should know better now (but far too often don’t). You get a heroine like Ruth Fielding, a turn-of-the-twentieth-century heroine, who did all these great, adventurous things solving her mysteries, and then went on to a career writing in Hollywood, in a happy marriage. A lot of these heroines showed girls that there was more than one definition of “good” — and that it wasn’t a terrible thing to be smart, and show it.

What advice do you have for aspiring writers?

Put your butt in the chair every day and do the work. Books don’t write themselves. Plan time off as you want/need it. Don’t let the writing slide. And don’t blow first rights posting material from your drafts online or on social media if you want to sell the polished/finished work. There’s a world of difference between throwing out a rough draft and sharing an excerpt of a piece that’s contracted.

Is there anything else you would like to share?

Find your tribe. Find other writers you like to hang out with and talk to. Read each other’s work. Support each other. Every time one succeeds, it helps everybody. Jealousy and envy are a waste of energy. Learn the craft — craft is as important as art. Do the work, build the community, and you’ll start to see results.

About Devon Ellington

Devon Ellington publishes under half a dozen names in fiction and non-fiction and is an internationally-produced playwright and radio writer. She has eight novels published, several novellas, dozens of short stories, and hundreds of articles. She worked backstage on Broadway and in film and television production for years and teaches both online and in-person. Her main website, http://www.devonellingtonwork.com, will lead you to the websites for the different series, and her blog on the writing life, Ink in My Coffee, is at https://devonellington.wordpress.com

Facebook | Twitter | Tumblr | Instagram | Ello | Triberr

Buy Devon’s Books

The Coventina Circle Paranormal Romantic Suspense Series: Playing the Angles | The Spirit Repository | Relics & Requiem

The Gwen Finnegan Paranormal Archaeological Mysteries: Tracking Medusa | Myth & Interpretation

The Nautical Namaste Not-Quite-Cozy Mysteries (As Ava Dunne): Savasana at Sea

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Meet Devon Ellington [Author Interview] Please tell us a little bit about yourself. I publish under multiple names in fiction and non-fiction, and am an internationally-produced playwright and radio writer.

[davi-doo]

tagging game

Tagged by: @chenyounot 

//Disclaimer: I don’t really know how aesthetic work...//

APOLLO glitz and glamour. art galleries. turning the volume up. being made of gold. neatly organized music sheets. notebooks filled with poetry. bathing in the sunlight. the powerful urge to create. collecting vinyl records. beautiful cover of wonderwall. playing multiple instruments. tasting like sunshine. healing touch.speaking in prophecies. smile mingled with wrath. shunning lies. sporting shades. hanging out at music festivals with their friends. sleeps naked. arrow to the heart. paint brushes. probably has a tinder account.

ARES armed for battle. wants to raise a dog with their significant other. soft spot for children. gives piggyback rides. scarred body. blood on their hands and face. willing to fight the world for the ones they love. fights against injustice. warm hugs. well worn combat boots. boxing gloves. bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles. fist raised in protest. ignites revolutions. fear is a prison. more sensitive than what their tough shell would have you think. exhausted. damaged goods. force to be reckoned with. red roses.curses under their breath.

ARTEMIS keen sense of a hunter. freckles like constellations on their skin. piercing eyes. disheveled braid. moonlight peeking through the shadows. the calm of the forest at night. lying on the grass and staring at the stars. mother doe and her fawn. Protecting their kin. the moon shimmering on a still lake. quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree. running with wolves. bonding while circled around a campfire. not being much of a people person. arrow hitting a target. popping egos. patience on 3%. touches heaven and returns howling.

ATHENA discerning gaze. unreadable face. quiet museums. owl perched on their finger. armor that intimidates. eye for architecture. plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses. studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid. big fan of logic. loves brain teasers. ancient buildings. sweaters in neutrals and cool colors. hair done up.can kill you with their brain. heads to the library often to research. sharpened pencils. abs that can cut steel. stoic statues. pottery classes.

DEMETER soil covered hands. smile that can bloom flowers. skin loved by the sun. being the mom friend. can lift you and your friends. flowers kept in the pockets of overalls. takes pride in their beautiful garden. speaks to their plants. leaves rustling in the wind. stalks of wheat. picking fruit. greenhouses. heart as strong as a mountain. values simplicity. daisies dotted across a collarbone. curls crowned with flowers. folded pile of sweaters in warm hues. pulling out fresh baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.

DIONYSUS drunk shitposter. on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second. seductive smirks. untamed curls. rich fabrics on dark skin. sleek furred panthers. theatre masks. stage productions. receiving a standing ovation. rose caught between their teeth. being the baby of the bunch. wild parties that last from sundown to sunup. creeping vines. inspiring loyalty. grand opera houses. masquerade balls. rolls of film. shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine spilled floor. pouring champagne into flutes. lives for the applause.

HEPHAESTUS the calloused hands of someone who knows labor. sweaty brow. flame burning in their eyes. inventive mind. broad shoulders. steampunk goggles. nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes. ashes. striking a match. blueprints for future projects. fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades. wrestles with bitterness. work boots have seen better years. wrinkled plaid shirts. iron melted in blazing fire. huge jackets. crafting masterpieces. greased stained overalls. fascination with robotics. pain is fuel. stack of weaponry. even their muscles have muscles.

HERA resting bitch face. dressed to the nines. cows grazing on a pasture. cool rain. loving and hating fiercely. hand clutching a string of pearls. large chandelier with glittering crystals. plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims. romance to realism. pictures of the sky while flying on a plane. files that under fuck it. downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix. like their selfie or you’re grounded. knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man. dark eyes that penetrate your soul. marble and gold.

HERMES devil-may-care smile, always up-to-date on the latest technology. will steal your french fries. does it for the vine. shitposter. puts googly eyes on everything. meme hoarder. long drives on the highway. ma and pop diners. spontaneous road trips. folded maps. fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop. shooting hoops on the basketball court. chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations. goes jogging in the morning. mixes redbull with coffee. menace on april fool’s. hoodies and sneakers.

POSEIDON storm with skin. colorful coral reefs. waves crashing against the shore. stroking the soft fur of a cat. their heart pounding as their horse ’ s gentle trot speeds into a gallop. tousled locks. clothes smeared with paint. owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns to own more. leather jackets. fondness for diy projects. handwriting that flows across the page. nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin. velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams. mood as ever-changing as the sea. the roar of a motorcycle. compass with a spinning arrow.

ZEUS thunder in their heart. running on coffee. flash of lightning. un-natural charisma. eloquence. badass in a nice suit. aficionado of history. force of nature. lenny face. nightmare-filled nights. proud arm around their lover’s waist. high-rise buildings. planes soaring through a cloudless sky. technician on the piano. maintains order. strong handshake. juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease. expensive watch.

Tagging: //Why everybody already tagged everybody? I don’t know many blogs yet, so here are some I’m curious about...

@those-fucking-plastic-prick @ask-ruthless-chloedbh @ask-prototype-twins @connor-but-a-top @leo-calm-down @ask-uncle-hank-dbh @itsafuckingnovel @inactivestatus-rq800

[skymeria]

Olympian OC asks

I’ve done this already for the protagonist of my current WIP, but have been tagged again (can’t find the notification again now so can't remember who tagged me but thank you) so I’ve decided to do it again but this time for Katarina Aplin - my protagonist’s love interest ;)

Rules: Bold those traits and aesthetics that apply to your character.

OC: Katarina Aplin

APHRODITE      laughter-loving | sweet smiles | dressed in silk and satin | flower in their hair | thrives on attention | sees the world as a runway | unapologetically sexual | the sea washing their ankles | in love with love | stirrer of passion | cunning concealed by painted lips | secret daggers | doves | revolution in their kiss | delighting in the waves | flirtatious winks | strolling along the beach | staring wistfully from a balcony | this is how to be a heartbreaker | your girlfriend thinks they’re attractive | wants to be adored | gets turned on by danger

APOLLO          glitz and glamour | art galleries |2c sheets | notebooks filled with poetry | bathing in the sunlight | the powerful urge to create | collecting vinyl records | beautiful cover of wonder wall | playing multiple instruments | tasting like sunshine | healing touch | speaking in prophecies | smile mingled wrath| shunning lies | sporting shades | hanging out at music festivals with their friends | sleeps naked | arrow to the heart | paint brushes | probably has a Tinder account.

ARES     armed for battle | wants to raise a dog with their significant other | soft spot for children | gives piggyback rides | scarred body | blood on their hands and face | willing to fight the world for the ones they love | fights against injustice | warm hugs | well-worn combat boots | boxing gloves | bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles | fist raised in protest | ignites revolutions | fear is a prison | more sensitive than what their tough shell will make you think | exhausted | damaged goods | force to be reckoned with | red roses | curses under their breath.

ARTEMIS     keen sense of a hunter | freckles like constellations on their skin | piercing eyes | disheveled braid | moonlight peeking through the shadows | the calm of the forest at night | lying on the grass and staring at the stars | mother doe and her fawn | protecting their kin | the moon shimmering on a still lake | quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree | running with wolves | bonding while circled around a campfire | not being much of a people person | arrow hitting a target | popping egos | patience on 3% | touches heaven and returns howling.

ATHENA      discerning gaze | unreadable face | the patience of a lifelong teacher | quiet museums | owl perched on their finger | armor that intimidates | eye for architecture | plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses | studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid | big fan of logic | loves brain teasers | go-getter | balls of wool displayed on shelves | ancient buildings | sweaters in neutrals and cool colors | hair done up | can kill you with their brain | heads to the library often to research | sharpened pencils | abs that can cut steel | stoic statues | pottery classes.

DEMETER     soil-covered hands | smile that can bloom flowers | skin loved by the sun | being the mom-friend | can lift you and your friends | flowers kept in the pockets of overalls | takes pride in their beautiful garden | speaks to their plants (elementals) | leaves rustling in the wind | stalks of wheat | picking fruit | greenhouses | heart as strong as a mountain | values simplicity | daisies dotted across a collarbone | curls crowned with flowers | folded pile of sweaters in warm hues | pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.

DIONYSUS          drunk shitposter | on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second | seductive smirks | untamed curls | rich fabrics on dark skin | sleek-furred panthers | theater masks | stage productions | receiving a standing ovation | rose caught between their teeth | being the baby of the bunch | wild parties that last from sundown to sunup | creeping vines | inspiring loyalty | grand opera houses | masquerade balls | rolls of film | shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor | pouring champagne into flutes | lives for the applause.

HEPHAESTUS      the calloused hands of someone who knows labor | sweaty brow | flame burning in their eyes | inventive mind | broad shoulders | steampunk goggles | nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes | ashes | striking a match | blueprints for future projects | fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades | wrestles with bitterness | work boots have seen better years | wrinkled plaid shirts | iron melted in blazing fire | huge jackets | crafting masterpieces | greased-stained overalls | fascination with robotics | pain is fuel | stack of weaponry | even their muscles have muscles.

HERA          resting bitch face | dressed to the nines | cows grazing on a pasture | cool rain | loving and hating fiercely | hand clutching a string of pearls | large chandelier with glittering crystals | plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims | romance to realism | pictures of the sky while flying on a plane | files that under ‘fuck it’ | downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix | like their selfie or you’re grounded | knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man | dark eyes that penetrate your soul | marble and gold.

HERMES          devil-may-care smile | ink-stained hands | always up-to-date on the latest technology | will steal your french fries | does it for the vine | shitposter | puts googly eyes on everything | meme hoarder | long drives on the highway | ma and pop diners | spontaneous road trips | folded maps | fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop | shooting hoops on the basketball court | chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations | goes jogging in the morning | mixes redbull with coffee | menace on april fool’s | hoodies and sneakers.

POSEIDON         storm with skin | colorful coral reefs | waves crashing against the shore | the sea casting its spell | stroking the soft fur of a cat | their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop | tousled locks | clothes smeared with paint | owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns for more | leather jackets | fondness for diy projects | handwriting that flows across the page | nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin | velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams | mood as ever-changing as the sea | the roar of a motorcycle | compass with a spinning arrow.

ZEUS          thunder in their heart | running on coffee | flash of lightning| natural charisma | eloquence | badass in a nice suit | aficionado of history | force of nature | lenny face | pretends they don’t have feelings but they do | nightmare-filled nights | proud arm around their lover’s waist | high-rise buildings | planes soaring through a cloudless sky | technician on the piano | maintains order | strong handshake | juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease | most likely to be voted class president out of their peers | expensive watch.

I’m not gonna tag anyone specifically because I can’t remember who I tagged last time, but if you wanna do this then please do and tag me so I can see!

[dakt37]

MMHMMHMM okay screencapping this ask so I can respond with a cut because GUESS WHO TALKED A LOT, SPOILER IT WAS ME.

So like I said, there are currently 5 AUs where Rex is Tup’s dad or legal guardian. @swdomesticverse is on its own planet, and I don’t have anything off the cuff to add about it or the dad!Rex AU at the moment. But the other three!

1.

The grocery store AU is the newest, and is fairly nebulous at this point. Mostly it was just me coming up with new joke scenarios for how Rex’s co-workers find out he has a kid. Why that particular one fell out of my pencil the other day, I’m not sure. Some of the others were probably funnier. But a common theme was Anakin and Rex being roughly the same age and Anakin being like “I’m so young and already married! And my wife is pregnant!” and Rex being like, “That’s cute,” because his kid is already 2-5 years old. But as I tag-muttered, I’m also amused by the idea that Padme works at the store and Anakin is still trying to awkwardly woo her. So idk.

I’m not sure of Rex’s exact duties at the grocery store, mostly because I’ve never worked in a grocery store and don’t know the management structure. He’s at least a step above entry-level grunt, but he still has to radio someone else if a prissy customer demands to speak with a manager. He might be kind of new-ish to this store, and/or be juggling another part-time job as well. Anakin meanwhile has been at this store since he was in high school, plus he’s really ambitious, hence why he’s already a supervisor/ asst.manager/ whatever. Obi-Wan is the day shift manager above Anakin, Ahsoka is the cute lil’ teenage cashier who works after school and on weekends, and just today it occurred to me that Krell should be the evil night shift manager.

Anyway I’m not sure if Rex is completely on his own with Tup, or if he has to deal with an antagonistic ex. As a final note, I was poking around with the idea of ObiRex in this AU, because I kinda like that ship but have never really played with it before.

2.

I had to dig in my files for this one and omg it’s from August apparently. Have some delicious copypasta:

Wait did I in fact ever ramble about this alternate fusion of the dad!Rex AU and Domesticverse? Because there’s totes a fusion version. In this one, I’m not a moron about Companies so Rex is the older bro of Jesse, Kix, Hardcase, Fives, and Echo. Hardcase is probably just Case again. And Fives and Echo are twins because I love that okay shush. Anyway so those bros are all between the ages of 10-20ish, and Rex is in his very early 20s. He has a son, 3-4 years old, of course Tup. When Rex was 18-19 or so, he had a one-time fling with a woman who worked for his father (in her late 20s maybe?). She didn’t want a kid and she and Rex really weren’t a Thing at all and she was tired of being the office scandal, so once Tup was born and handed off to Rex, she kinda disappeared into the wind. New job across country. She’s a perfectly decent person, she just had her own life plans, you feel?

Okay but here’s the thing: That’s all a lie. Well not all of it. But the key ingredient is. Rex didn’t bang Tup’s biomom. His father did. Pops had an affair with his much younger secretary, and she got preggo. He tried to get her to terminate, but she refused for personal reasons. She wanted to just put the kid up for adoption, but he fought the idea because the kid would still be out there SOMEWHERE, just waiting for the worst moment to reappear and ruin him with scandal. So basically they got into a blackmail tug of war, threatening to destroy each other’s reps and careers. But then one day during one of their arguments, Rex is in the wrong place at the wrong time (or right and right?) and overhears. And he can’t deal with the idea that there would be a little (half-)sibling out who wouldn’t get to grow up knowing the rest of them, so he bursts into the room and offers himself up as a scapegoat. Into the future when he talks about how he ended up with Tup, he’s totally not lying when he phrases it in terms of being a wide-eyed teenager who made an impulsive, emotional decision without an exhaustive consideration of the consequences.  

Their dad is always pretty much a dick about Tup. He’s mad that Rex successfully cornered him, that the secretary agreed with the idea and teamed up against him, and that everyone else in the family seems really happy to have Tup around. So he comes off as mostly just being really judgey about Rex having a kid too young and with someone he had no intention of marrying.  People think it’s a little weird that he takes it so personally, but it’s not like that’s unheard of or anything. He’s also pissed because everyone is always so proud of Rex for “stepping up.” Especially since his wife is one of those people, and gets on his ass about helping out and visiting their “grandchild” and all that. So much awkward. 

Sometimes my ponderings of this AU spiral into various ways the cat could get out of the bag, but nothing I feel like committing to words yet.

3.

This one is the worst, because it came about during my binge of CSI and Forensic Files not too long ago. Not sure of the complete family in this one, but the mother is that one particularly evil Kaminoan from the brainchip arc, their father is dead, Rex is the oldest brother, Fives is somewhere in the middle, and Tup is the youngest. When Tup was about 9, he got brain cancer. He wasn’t responding to treatment, which does just happen sometimes, but it seemed suspicious, especially to certain people whose names are more than Fours but less than Sixes. Eventually he discovers that their mother was turning a profit on Tup’s real meds and giving him a mix of sugar pills and poison. It’s a clusterfuck of circumstantial evidence and finger-pointing, but eventually SCIENCE helps prove it. The investigation even does one better and exhumes their father to prove she offed him too. So her ass goes to jail and Tup and Fives go to live with Rex because he is conveniently old enough to legally take them. Tup gets back on track and eventually goes into remission, because I only allow happy endings.

[729renegades]

Being Healthy on the Inside and Out – Part 2

Following on from my article last month, I introduced you to the exciting new product that we are developing behind the scenes that’ll help us attract more business owners into the Renegades circle.

Everyone wants different things, but we all want to be successful and this month I continue to discuss what an important part your health and wellbeing plays in being healthy on the inside and out. I firmly believe that if you look after yourself in a small way, you’re better equipped to deal with the demands of running a business and juggling a family and private life.

Let’s be fair, if you feel like shit then you normally can’t muster up enough effort to have a great day. You may get away with the odd day for a cough or cold but if its sustained then everything suffers. This is why when I appraised myself and my situation, I knew things had to change for the better.

How many times have you used that old excuse of working long, tired, no time? Bollocks! It’s a matter of priorities.

Your biggest asset is you and your health and well-being. It doesn’t matter if you have the best ideas, or you are the greatest ever entrepreneur – when you’re dead, you’re dead! If you can’t muster up the energy to do everyday tasks then you’re going to struggle with the demands of running a business, being an entrepreneur, a wife, mother, husband, and a father.

I discovered that if I wanted to work on me, then I had to make time for me.

The good Lord isn’t making any more time.

Your biggest asset is you and your health and well-being. It doesn’t matter if you have the best ideas, or you are the greatest ever entrepreneur – when you’re dead, you’re dead

It doesn’t matter who you are or how much money you have, there’s still only 24 hours in a day. At some stage in that day you have to factor in sleeping and eating, the rest is up for grabs.

I heard a great saying the other day, “Busy is a choice”, I love that saying. How many times do you ask, “How are you?” or “How’s things?” and the reply is, “I’m so busy”. My inner voice screams “Really, really, everyone’s bloody busy”!! I obviously don’t say that, if someone has a genuine problem, I love to help but, on most occasions, they’re just moans and groans about life in general and life choices that people make.

My father used to say whenever he was asked that, “How are you?” question, he would always say “Good, Excellent or Great”.

I found out, as I grew up, he’s a wise man, he used to say, “It doesn’t matter if life is bad and things are getting you down, nobody wants to hear about how bad it is, so they simply don’t listen”.

He’s right, if you ask someone how they are, and they start back with, “Terrible because Auntie Ethel’s got a cold and Mum’s cat got run over….” Straight away you think shut up and switch off. We all have our own issues and problems.

What I’ve found is by saying, “Excellent” or “Super Well” people genuinely say, “really, how so” and are now interested and perked up themselves. I’d much rather people say, “Steve is such a positive person, always happy…” Than “Did you see Steve today, he’s a miserable old bastard…” your behaviour and demeanour can positively or negatively affect you and those around you.

I said I would share what works for me so here goes:

The alarm is set of 0545, I either go to the gym or I get to the office, whether that’s the home office or work office. I try and do between 3 and 5 workouts a week. Doing it by yourself at that time of the morning can be tough, so get a kindred spirit or do as I did and get a personal trainer. When I started that, could I afford it? No, my mindset was, could I afford not to? The answer again was. . . No. You don’t need to be loaded to get a trainer, again it’s about priorities. A decent trainer will cost you about £25 a session, that’s 3 bottles of wine a week or one take away – you pick!

I normally do 2 sessions with the trainer a week, Monday and Friday mornings are my preferred choice. Monday ensures the odd glass of wine on a Sunday lunch doesn’t spread to two bottles over the day! Friday finishes the week off when the energy levels can be sagging slightly and sets the weekend up perfectly. On the other occasions I’ll do a session the trainer has given me, hit the weights or even take a class in the gym.

One way I have found that spurs me on besides the thought of getting killed by my trainer is to set myself crazy challenges. I have done Duathlons, Obstacle Courses, Triathlons, 10K runs, I’ve already mentioned that Cardiff Half Marathon.

Most recently I set myself a target of raising £10,000 for a Cancer Hospital that saved my Mother’s life when she had breast cancer. She was 70, it was 15 years since she had the treatment. I agreed to cycle 400 miles in 5 days across the North Island of New Zealand with a bunch of other crazy folk I had never met before. That kept me going for a year!

On other days when I get in the office, I try not to get into work stuff until after 0830. That’s the same as if I’ve been training. On these days I do some self-development stuff. I write, I read, I listen or learn.

Recently I’ve started using an App called Headspace to meditate and that has really helped my sense of wellbeing.

The App allows you to meditate even if you’ve never had a go before or if you are a seasoned expert. It helps you and sets you on course.

For me I found it when I was struggling with a feeling of anxiety, but I use it now most days just to give my mind that time, perhaps 20 minutes, to switch off and declutter.

It certainly helps me as I find myself thinking fast from the moment my eyes open until they close at bed time.

Meditation gives me that peace and time to put things back in the places they should be. It’s like my brain files things where they should be while I am concentrating on my breathing!!!

These mornings are my saviour and it’s my working on “me time”.

A word here for all those people who say, “Oh I hate mornings” or “Sorry, I don’t do mornings. I was one of you, but I changed because I wanted to, and I saw the value in changing. I made a choice, you can too.

If you had asked my wife if she could see me getting up before 6am and doing what I do now, she literally would have died laughing. When we first met, I’d be in bed until after 8 most days. I was lazy and depressed. That allowed the negativity to keep eating away and I gave it the fuel it needed to survive by my routines and choices.

I find that once I’ve started the day off well, I make a sensible breakfast choice, I have energy, I feel good and that feeds through the rest of the day. When I feel like that and a challenge comes in then I’m ready to face it and find it easy to roll with the ups and downs of the day with a positive frame of mind. When I was in a bad place and bad routines then if a challenge came in, I’d blame every man and his dog and wished I’d never got up, the negativity would feed my day and it would go pair shaped from there.

There’s a saying, “Win the morning – Win the day”, and there have been loads of books and people to follow on this. Miracle Morning is a book that I read. It advocates getting up very early. I liked it but I made my own way. One guy that I follow on Social Media is Jocko Willick. He’s an American ex-Navy Seal Commander and he’s passionate about his morning rituals. He has started a 0430 club on twitter and takes a photo of his watch every morning showing something like 0431 Rise and Shine with his favourite #getafterit. Maybe he appeals to my ex forces mentality, but it does make me smile.

The morning is key for me. But what time is best for you? When will you be able to start a positive routine and stick to it?

I get the exercise done and, in the bag, early doors. It’s at a time that doesn’t give me an excuse that it could hamper with family – they are all still in bed and work can’t get in the way because that hasn’t started yet either. It gives me time to think and plan and I can sometimes kill two birds with one stone by listening to an audiobook or podcast while training. Self-development and exercise done by 7.30am!! If you honestly think you have no more time in the day – set your alarm earlier. I appreciate that those with young children may disagree but find your space at other times. If you have a young family, that normally means they are in bed for 8pm so instead of watching Netflix with a glass of wine, start your positive routine then. Get your running shoes on or just do something with your spouse or partner, read a book, work on yourself until 10pm. I know you’re tired, funny enough I am in the morning when I wake up for the gym! It’s a matter of choices. As I said at the beginning, be happy with your choices but don’t complain if they are not serving you.

One thing that does help me on those early mornings is a positive mantra I say to myself every morning when I wake up and swing my legs out of the bed onto the floor. As I sit there for a moment gathering myself together, I just say, “Great people do great things” and I’m away. Its sounds better than, “Move fatty!” I am sure you’ll agree. Find your mantra, something that works for you. There are no shortage of great quotes and motivational snippets to help inspire you. Just Google “Motivational Quotes”. Another of my clients was hit by the idea in one of our sessions to use the phrase, “You choose your attitude” and he uses that every day now. That has worked well for him.

Napoleon Hill talks about positive affirmations and mantras in his famous book Think and Grow Rich in the chapter Auto Suggestion. If you haven’t read that then that can be one of the first things you do in your new routine!!

Look at every aspect of your day and how you can install good positive routines that eventually become habits. Email can suck the life out of every day. We’re fixated in holding our smart phones and replying instantly to emails as they arrive. Try and segment the day and only answer emails at certain times of the day.

Again, I don’t have all the answers, many will have all the excuses, others will give it all a try and adapt to make it fit for them and gain little wins and that’s all you can hope for.

Fact of the matter is this. . . If you want things to change in your life you have to make changes yourself. If you keep doing what you’ve done, you keep getting what you’ve got. Think into your life and what you want from it, I doubt that lethargy, reactive and negative will be words at the top of anyone’s list. If that is the case make sure what you do every day ensures those words can’t get on your list as its filled with other more positive ones like confidence, proactive, energy, positivity etc.

Your behaviour and demeanour can positively or negatively affect you and those around you

There will be some tough choices and you need to give yourself a talking to in order to stop the lure of Netflix and the red wine bottle but, remember, these are YOUR choices – nobody makes them for you.

A great routine doesn’t have to start at 5am, what about 8am or 11am, what about using your lunch break or 3pm. Why not 9pm?

Do something every day that evolves around your values and energises you.

Walking, reading, meditating, breakfast with your family, a song sung at the top of your lungs with the kids on the school run. Whatever it is makes little difference, as long as it’s positive.

Give yourself permission to spend time working on you. One of my clients has triplet girls and the mornings are filled already with breakfasts, teeth cleaning, school uniforms, hair, pony tails and that’s before 7am!! How can you possibly throw some me time in there? We talked about giving himself permission to take an hour in the day, after all he works late, after the girls have gone to bed so why can’t he allow himself that hour in the day. By giving yourself permission, you avoid that feeling of guilt, “I should be at my desk…” that feeling is serving nobody. I’m sure that when you spend that Saturday morning at your desk you’re thinking, “I should be with my family” or when you work to 10pm every evening you say, “I should be with my wife”. That feeling is common amongst us business owners and is not helpful. If you’re like me, you’ll never get it spot on but with permission you will be better at it.

There are so many other things that people do and believe in, like journaling and time blocking but I don’t do those things.

Other people make to do lists, but I find that they make you feel pressured and worse, especially as we tend to make long ones and leave them unfinished.

This leads to frustration, feeling of inadequacy and helplessness.

Something that I do and advocate for everyone’s health and wellbeing is to write that list and make it as long as you want but when it’s done sit there and get a highlighter pen and mark the one, most important thing that you can do today that makes today a success.

Once you’ve done that, just do that one and you can leave the office with a win.

It doesn’t matter how big or small that task is but by highlighting it as the one thing and doing it – you’ve won the day and you can go home with a sense of accomplishment.

How many times do you write that list and don’t even do anything but spend all day running around like a crazy person? You fill the entire day and sometimes don’t even have time for lunch. When you get home your lovely spouse says, “How was your day?” and you feel like you’ve achieved nothing.

You can stop that ever happening again by picking that one thing and doing it.

Go home every day a winner.

That’s a great tip for being healthy on the inside and the outside.

All the things I’ve outlined over the last two months help me achieve good health on the inside and the outside.

Routines

Exercise

Self-Development

Meditation

Mindful of outside negativity

Never compare yourself to others

Doing what is right and works for you

Daily mantras

Positivity

Challenge yourself

Owning and taking responsibility for your choices

So, over to you –

How can you feel healthy on the inside and the out – every day?

What will you do tomorrow morning that could change your entire day?

How can that first hour really set you up to win the day.

What will you say to yourself when you put your feet on the floor as you sit on the edge of the bed? What will your mantra be?

What will you give yourself permission to do today?

Be intentional about looking after yourself on the inside and the outside and it’ll make a huge difference in your life.

Good luck!

from Blog | 729renegades https://ift.tt/2XIy7Ta

[thesmallcast]

Balinese

It has been a few exhausting past months, though I feel I had a manageable solution for each area in my life that was causing me distress (admittedly a bit after the fact). There was a build up of different things going on especially after things ending with PBJ. I knew that I had a holiday coming up which helped knowing there was a clock on it. I was having my best mates in town and  Bali for a week - what more could a girl ask for.  I had a flare up just before I went away- so I knew that I was overdoing it. I love how it's a gentle little reminder to pull it back.

Work has been a handful however I feel I finally have the confidence back after all the stress, and change that happened last year at work. I really went down a rabbit hole which I have never had in my career to the point that I took personal leave. I never have really updated my blog on that. Surprisingly, a lot of it was to do with my new manager, who has been at work for two months now after finding out she has Stage 3 cancer. She will be fighting it off with chemo for the remainder of the year. She has a husband and two teenage daughters. It's so devastating. I have never seen anyone so brave though in the midst of it or at least being courageous in the public eye. Work is so busy though,  with my manager being away it just leaves me holding the fort. Its been a balancing act of juggling all the components, taking on new workload and trying to navigate my way through. I have always been in pretty busy roles, but I've always known my way and what to do and led my way. The difference in my new role is that I don’t know everything at the back of my hand, I’m still learning. Also, I am dependent on other functions as well which is a different way of managing time. Before I went away for leave, my work bought me flowers just to say thanks and say they appreciate all the work I have been doing. It was a nice gesture as well as a friendly reminder to myself to not be so hard on myself and focus on all the good and my strengths. With the sheer amount of workload, I have put in some tactics, to write a to-do list, get out of work in time ( sounds like the opposite of getting work done, but I need to get out on time to enjoy ‘Sam’ time as well), spending once a week filing emails and reprioritising tasks. Its been working though I'm only keeping things afloat, I haven’t had the time to drill into the big projects.

On top of work, my exercise and gym routine has been out the window. I’ve had a slump in motivation, I have been out of the gym since February and being restricted by an injury which I left to get worse didn’t help. As I've been limited to what I could do. I tried running only to get tendonitis. I started going to the physio, which was the best thing I could have done and I wish I went sooner.  I addressed my tendonitis and started working on my hip mobility and my back pain I had been experiencing. One day I was at work and my right leg just started tingling, my foot was numb and I was so scared it would stay like that. My back has been in continuous pain off and on which is worrying me about how my training will progress. I haven’t been able to do weight lifting ( I had stopped as well cause I knew I didn’t have the strength and had wanted to work on saving at the time for my Europe plan). I have now signed up for a personal trainer at the gym for 1 on 1 session. It was my first week back and it was great! It's a bit expensive, but I see it as an investment. ( Since I'm catching up on this blog post a bit late I can say I have already noticed a major difference in my mobility and reduced pain. I can’t wait to get stronger and be stronger).

Most importantly making constructive ‘Sam’ time. I have been trying to find a balance of social life and "Sam" time. I’ve recently had numerous friends go through horrific breakups and I’ve been giving so much energy I was feeling low and drained. I didn’t realise how much your surroundings could affect you. I love supporting my friends and definitely backing them, as I would want my friends to do the same. I just wasn’t in tune with how I was feeling and probably needed to wind in the reel a bit. My mindset over this time made me realise that I was showing up but not being emotionally present, I had taken things super personal and been a bit sensitive which wasn’t being fair to those around me. Ready for the getaway.

Just before I headed out to Bali, my best mates were here for the weekend and save to say it was an epic weekend. Full of adventures and sightseeing in Sydney and we saw it all. I actually couldn’t believe how much we did - they saw all of Sydney ( Dammit). It was so nice having them here that it was hard to say goodbye ( I actually had a tear over it). Highlights: The Bondi to Coogee walk on day 1 having mad catch ups and yarns, the chef deluxe menu cooked by DK’s sister and husband, the blue mountains getaway and rewarding scones after, halloumi burgers in Marrickville ( even though cheese gives me the bloats and the poos), KB taking over my tinder chats, the ferry to manly, eating the worlds hottest corn chip ( the experience wasn’t pleasant but hilarious after)… I realised I just listed out the whole trip!

There was a small low light for me which was having an icicles moment. When we were in the Blue mountains I was giving guidance on the path to walk and no one was listening to me. The feeling of being unheard, I have done the walk but no one was listening so I walked to the loo. When I came back, Dk and his sis had picked the path we needed to take and I lost it because I had said it like 5 times. I knew this. I threw a childish little tantrum about it and went all quiet and stubborn. I didn’t know how to break free from it. There was a small crossroad at the opening of the path, I got asked which way to go, I just went all silent. They went down the stairs to one of the big views. I snapped out of it pretty quick. Usually, I sink lower into the funk because I’m embarrassed by how I’m acting and don’t know how to act normally its a weird feeling. I have in the past had funks and have had to sleep it off. I also haven’t had a funk like that in a long time but it went as quick as it came. It definitely didn’t ruin the weekend and no one else had even thought about it again but obviously, it played in mind.

I headed straight off to Bali. Bali was the perfect break, I flew over by myself to meet my close friend from back home, NB and her boyfriend (CB). NB had actually convinced me to buy the flights. It was a week of massages, food, relaxing, chilling in my bikini. We had a few day trips, one when we went to Ubud. We did the giant swings, walked through the rice paddies, checked out the monkey sanctuary, drunk coffee which had been pooped out by a Kopi Luwak (a type of cat). Please look it up, its a thing, I wasn’t just drinking cat poo. We spent a day at Finns Beach club, that was heaven we just had food and drink on tap all day long. NB and I swam in the ocean it was bliss. For most of the trip we stayed in the area, we had a villa in Canngu. The area was super laid back and safe. There was a lot of cross fit gyms, massage parlours and whole food eateries. We had dry heat the whole time. Canggu was a nice part of Bali as opposed to Seminyak where there were so many people, and so many Balinese drivers saying “Taxi?”. It did my head in but we spent one night in Seminyak eating and then going for a dance which ended up being just NB and I. It was magical like old times. Bali was a cheap trip and super relaxing. Most mornings, I would go for a walk an explore, grab some brekkie and get a massage then meet up with my NB and CB at the Villa. We had hired two scooters for the duration of the trip but I was not ballsy enough so we did rides. CB would take one of us and then come back for the other, we had a system. I could not drive a scooter and NB attempted only to drive into the wall during her introduction lesson. Its a NO from me. NB and I have been friends for over a decade now, the most beautiful thing about our friendship is it doesn’t change. We can go weeks, sometimes months without talking but for everything to be perfect and just the way it was. She’s always been so accepting and supportive of me and ensures I stand up for what I value and believe in. She also is so raw and honest! Bloody love her, I'm truly blessed with a tribe of amazing girls back home. KB, DK and I talk practically every day and I feel the exact same. I am so lucky, blessed and grateful for the amazing souls back home and a few near and dear here in Sydney.  

Now I have come back from Bali, with my energy revitalised and my soul feels lighter. I think I needed a break and it's so important to take them regularly. I go home often but it never feels like a break as I always cram and overdo it but I'm getting better. Back to the grind.

[jivingcryingboy]

Being In A Band

There's a always that situation for a musician when someone, like your girlfriend's mum, uncle, another parent asks you, "What do you do?" And you answer "I play in a band." Now, I've seen this first hand and it can go a few ways. One way is that the girlfriend's mum, or whoever it is, gets very interested and their eyes light up because it's an interesting journey and so on. The second way, which is common, is for the person to suddenly pause as if you've just told them their daughter is pregnant, kicked their dog and pissed all over their toilet seat. "Oh...that's nice", meaning that their girl's partner is someone who is broke and goalless and cannot provide for their daughter.

Now I'm not having a go at people who react like this. Usually these reactions are from people who don't play music and are casual music listeners at best. And ultimately, these people are only going to understand when you point towards the radio and go, "That's my band" or "Here's the paycheck". And yes, ultimately, even for the musician there does have to be some kind of success in terms of making music especially before huge responsibilities like a raising family come your way. And I don't mean success as in playing at Wembley or lots of fame, I mean earning money out of music so you can keep making music and doing what you love best.

And if that's not possible, you get a job on the side to fund the music you love doing. Making a living out of 'popular originals music', is hard. Extremely hard.

If you want to become a lawyer or an engineer or a doctor, there is some kind of path to get there. A very hard one, don't get me wrong, but there is a some kind of visible path to get there. You can't just stroll in to a ward and do an operation. You have to revise, take exams, get experience working in a hospital environment before you become a doctor. Making a living out of original music, there is no straight path. It's pinball. Some people take years to get there, some people are overnight successes, some people are rejected over one hundred times before they get a break, some people get lucky first time, some people never get lucky. There are no exams, no scale of how good or bad you are, no league tables, no nothing.

And that's the other side to all of this; everything is subjective. Good and bad have no significance. In sport, there are ways of tracking how good a sportsman is. Granted, there are subjective and aesthetic issues, but there are statistics to help you along the way. In music, we fall into that 'Art' category. That fucking word. For example, a single turd could be sitting in a white room at the Tate Modern and it could be considered the greatest statement of the 21st century through many eyes. Through other eyes however, it's just a turd in a white room. How is this special turd making such a statement? But I guess that's the beauty of it all. You could be watching a band, enamoured by their music whilst standing next to someone who can't wait until that band finishes. If you are a musician, an artist, a novelist, screenplay writer etc. you are in a game where there are no rules. For the people who get there, I reckon some of them don't even know how they got there.

'Art' is funny thing. It's as meaningless as it is essential. Whether you create some form of art or not is insignificant. We are all indulged in TV series, video games, films, novels, songs, paintings, theatre shows, whatever it may be. Most of them fictional. It is a natural human desire to wear a mask and pretend to be someone else whether you are performing or spectating. For me, if there is ever a specific definition that sums up 'art', it is the desire to be and to feel something more than ourselves. To express ourselves outside our human boundaries. Yep, I just did it. Pretentious art talk. Fuck it. I'm that pretentious guy at the party who says he writes songs. So even those people who don't fully understand someone's pursuit in this particular area, even they are indulged in some art form through whatever medium.

I keep banging on about there not being a 'good or bad' in music. I'll try and explain. Our debut EP was released not so long ago and I always try and get it reviewed. I emailed one particular website where I got a reply of which I'd never seen before. The guy emailed back and basically told me that he, the reviewer, does not pick what he reviews, 'tippers' do. Tippers are people who tell reviewers and blogs what to write about. It's a bit like keeping up with the latest fashion trends; if more people search for 'so-and-so band' on google, they'll review them, and people are more likely to click on the reviewer's page. Another website I found stated that you had to pay for the review. And if you put out that little bit extra, you get to be on the 'Upcoming Artist' Section.

Even though it sounds like I'm complaining, I'm not. It's just the way it is. I think there was a time before social media where this concept was less blurry. Before the internet, it was more about the music. I won't bullshit too much, image still played a massive part, but when the internet came along it introduced so many more factors that artists had to deal with. In social media, not only is it about music, it's about marketing, branding, audience, image, current events, being quirky and so much more. Quirkiness is everything. You can't just play your song and expect anything anymore. You have to play a song, live streamed with piano-playing cats, five people playing one guitar, juggling at the same time, looking gorgeous, crazy clothes, no gravity rooms, bla bla bla. The music becomes a passenger. This is why we have music videos. Audio is no longer enough. That's why we did our music video down Bold Street. Don't get me wrong, it did fit the song, but just releasing the track by itself won't get you anywhere. If you scroll down the Facebook feed right now, literally right now, (come back though) count how many videos there are. There's a tonne of them! So many! Why? Because it grabs your attention. Cats, racist people, accidents, Donald Trump. You have to punch someone in the face to get their attention. I think it's not about being good or bad, it's about being quirky, loud and different, even if it's shite, it doesn't matter

I know you can get magazines and blogs who rate albums out of five/ten stars but that's complete bullshit as well. Critic's Choice, IMDB, Rotten Tomatoes spoon feeding you your opinion before you've even made it. There used to be so much analysis about Kurt Cobain's lyrics, a ridiculous amount of people weighing in about what they thought Kurt meant, when Kurt actually for the most part did not really give much of shit about the words he was writing at all. I'm not gonna get started on the whole concept of criticism but there's a lot of vagueness going on there as well. In my opinion.

One thing I do know for sure is that you need money and to be fair, that could be said about everything in life. Uni fees are sky high, so many educational paths are laminated in debt. Maybe this is a naive point. Earning money though from your own songs is sticky.

https://www.theguardian.com/…/how-much-musicians-make-spoti…

The Guardian did a post not so long ago regarding stream revenue for artists. I think it was round the time after Taylor Swift kicked off and left Spotify. What this says ^ is that if, like us, you are an unsigned artist, in order to earn minimum wage in America ($1,260 per month) your songs must be played 180,000 times per month. That's for Spotify. That's $0.001 per click. 2% of all Spotify artists actually achieve minimum wage out of their music. There's torrenting, youtube mp3 converter files, the way to make money out of music bands on our level is touring. And that's another drama.

So why do it? Why be broke, play songs that maybe no one cares about and set yourself up for failure? I don't think there is a definitive answer to this as everyone has a different take on it. In my case, and I can only speak for myself, I guess it's meaning. A phenomenal piece of the makeup that constitutes to be living. Talking as someone who tries to write songs, creating something is such a beautiful thing. To give birth to little worlds, stories, characters that exist in my own creative realm is for me personally, the one thing I am most thankful for. Even if the next tune I write is the worst thing you've ever heard, even if you listen to the song and think, "please, never sing again", the feeling of creating something, making a story is priceless, indecipherable even. I also think what everyone forgets is that for the people who are pursuing 'originals' music as a career, we are in such a fortunate position; a position in life where we have the opportunity and capabilities to actually pursue music. We're not struggling to feed our families, we're not fleeing our countries because of famine and war, we are in a place where we can choose an artistic way of life, even if it doesn't pay well. For many people, the idea of even trying to make music is so far way from their reality as the restraints of their lives do not allow them a single chance to prove themselves at it. You get this one life, yolo, do what makes you happy. If you want to be a musician, work tirelessly to be one. Those people who look down on you, laugh at you are people probably not happy with how their lives have gone. Just do it. If we can continue to make and play music then job done. Even if it goes nowhere, I can be proud of what we have done, proud to say I was part of a music video down Bold Street, proud to say we released music knowing I felt emotions that would not have been possible for me to feel anywhere else. Through the difficult times we have had, music never lets you down. If anyone ever locks into our songs and tunes in to what we are doing, gets the same feelings as we got when we listened to our favourite bands for the first time, that is biggest cherry on top you can ever ask for.