#i don't implode with boredom

[asiancatboy]

made some bread today. yaaay 🫶🏽

[eve6262]

happy birthday komaeda

Someone sits on a ledge in a ruined city and thinks about jumping.

The fall is deadly. His body has always been weak, frail and untrustworthy; even his own luck couldn't save him. There's nothing soft down there, harsh edges and rusty rebar tempting him into a fate guaranteed. Few things in his life have been guaranteed, and something about that promise feels comforting, like it's the one thing he'll always have up his sleeve.

In his mind's eye, he jumps. He falls. His imagination has always been lively, but for some reason, this part is blank. "I die" is the only thing he can come up with- the image eludes him. He's scared, maybe, of truly seeing it- the same thing happened when he was kidnapped, mind hazy and gone, wondering: "what happens if he forgets to feed me?" He doesn't want to remember that.

He remembers it anyway, because the one thing the cancer refuses to take his is memory.

When Kamakura looked at him, he thought he might implode. Not for the reason the others thought- something about hope and despair and a name that tastes like sweet poison on his tongue. Not because he was infatuated, even if he is. Because Kamakura looked right through him and saw whatever vines twisted a thousand times over his heart and had the gall to say, "What was the diagnosis?"

He already knew. Komaeda doesn't know why he asked. But he did, and Komaeda answered, and then he huffed, turned on his heel, and walked away.

(That wasn't Komaeda. That was Servant, someone who doesn't exist, a shell of a person.)

Are the children looking for him? He doesn't care, and they don't care; this is a moment to himself, while everything falls apart around them. Monaca could manage on her own if she wished; there's a cruel boredom to her smile, but no matter what anyone seems to think, it's different. There's something hollow about it, something lonely, something sad. Something like the look in his own eyes when he smiles in the mirror.

And Towa City is at least calm. Already destroyed in some sense, largely intact in another. So of course he ended up here. There's no battle for him to fail through or politics to ruin. He just has to sit here, and mess up whatever job given to him, and be laughed at.

He thinks of a serial killer and writer sharing a body and laughs.

He thinks about Kamakura and stops.

He thinks about jumping.

---

"Komaeda, are you sure you're okay?"

They're sitting in a room together. Outside Future Foundation headquarters, but not far- they want to keep tabs on the group, considering heavily whether they'll be let in or not. Some are a given- Fuyuhiko, Hajime, Sonia. Others are questionable- Mikan, Teruteru, himself. Komaeda isn't sure what the suits think, but he imagines Hajime will be staunch about it, and he'll be let in as the group will. Even if he's only a patient for Mikan to fuss over when there's little to do, that's fine.

He has never minded being just a body for the machine. As long as the machine is working towards good ends, he can be a nothing gear.

"Of course. Don't worry about me."

To be specifically accurate, Hajime is half-sitting half-laying in bed, blearily looking at him from across the room, as Komaeda sits at a desk on a laptop. He woke up an hour ago and wanted to be busy with something, anything as a distraction, and he keeps the apartment spotless out of the same urge. But there isn't much work anyone piles onto him, so he's just sitting here, wondering a bit aimlessly why he opened the accursed thing.

Why he woke up is irrelevant, really. People wake up at four AM sometimes, it's nothing strange.

(He remembers stale wind and red skies, and a building, and thinking about plumetting. Except, in his dream, he actually falls, and falls, and falls, and then there's a spear in his heart and-)

Hajime closes his eyes, and falls back on the bed. Komaeda turns back to the laptop, and decides that if he can't do anything productive, he can at least try to bring Hajime's files into some semblance of order.

For a moment, he thinks that's all it'll be. And then he hears the blanket shuffle, and footsteps, and he says, "Am I keeping you up?"

"No," Hajime tells him, circling his arms around his front. Breath hitches in his throat- he can't stand to look back. Disappointment could fill his eyes, or annoyance furrow his brow, or pity worry at his lip, and all three of them would destroy him like a shattered porcelain doll. So he doesn't look back, even if he does sit back in the chair a little. "I'm not really sleepy anyway."

("I'm don't get tired easily," a quiet Kamakura tells him unprompted. He's rarely responding to questions, anticipating them and answering before they leave your lips. "They wanted efficiency." Servant hears what's unsaid and stores it in the shell he's got left of what he was.)

"Did you want to use the laptop?"

Silence meets him. Anxiety frays at his heart- what's Hajime thinking? Is he waiting? Hoping he'll come back to bed so he can make sure Komaeda is sleeping enough for his condition? That's Mikan's job, to worry over his health- he hopes Hajime isn't back to that old haunt that Kamakura used to take up when the two of them were in Towa City. To this day he isn't sure what about it drew the man in.

"You should tell me what it was," is what Hajime settles on.

Komaeda smiles. It's an instinct, like a deer in headlights; if something's too prying, smile and wave it away. "Nothing, really. Just couldn't sleep."

"...That's not true," Hajime insists. But there's sleep still stuck in his throat, thick and syrupy; if he plays his cards right. maybe Hajime will decide he's too much trouble and go back to bed.

("You're trouble," Kamakura states. It's not a question and doesn't sound like a complaint, and it's not like Servant could respond to such a thing while bedridden. There are more words, but sadly, his consciousness fails him, and they all sound like static.)

"...It's nothing I can't deal with myself. You should go to bed- you sound tired."

Hajime just makes a noise, properly bending down into a hug. His arms tighten, and Komaeda almost wants to look back, but doesn't. Now it feels like cheating, peering at an answer he's supposed to solve himself. And he's never been opposed, but the shame curls around him like a serpent.

"I'll join you in a minute," Komaeda promises.

"...I wasn't having a great dream either," Hajime tells him, and course he knew the whole time. It doesn't take a genius to have figured that out. But he was hoping it could be kept in its box where it's contained, not growing, simply existing. A therapist would tell him that's a bad idea, but Komaeda thinks he knows his own brain well enough to cope nowadays. "It was about Towa City."

"Ah."

"You were standing on a high rooftop. I was across the street in a building, watching from a window."

Komaeda puts a hand on his, tentatively and slowly, in case it'd be rejected. Hajime takes it in his, tight and secure. "You were looking down. And I couldn't move."

"And then?"

Hajime pauses. "And then I felt cold, so I woke up. I don't know what was going to happen."

"I see."

"But I think Kamakura does."

Komaeda says nothing. Kamakura's powers of observation are second to none, and of course the husk that Servant was never cared to hide anything he didn't need to. If Kamakura had looked at him for even a nanosecond while he was up on a building, he'd probably see the image in his mind.

(They're on top of one such building. Servant is staring at the edge in lieu of disgracing Kamakura with his eye. He does not notice the arm moving until it's already around his shoulder, tugging him closer. He assumes, in this moment, that Kamakura is cold, or maybe that he thought the ground was going to collapse that close to the edge.)

"You were thinking about jumping," Kamakura states plainly.

"Yes." Hiding from Kamakura is silly. It's like trying to socialize in a hospital bed. "Back then, anyways."

"Come to bed," he states plainly. "It is worse alone."

Komaeda obliges, because he knows there isn't much getting out of it. He shuts the laptop and gets up, Kamakura trailing him into the bed. Laying down is awkward, unsure of what Kamakura wants- which turns out to be fine, because he doesn't care much about taking it for himself, burying his face in Komaeda's neck and pulling him close.

It's warm. With whichever one of them- Hajime, Kamakura, both if they'd prefer that thought- it's hard to think about that moment, because in the memory it is cold and dry and distant and lonely, and now there is a beating heart so loud in his ears it's hard to think.

"...I am glad you never did," he says. "While I was there I would have stopped you. But there were moments you could have."

"There were," Komaeda says. And, truthfully, he thinks that black void is the reason he didn't. The lack of an idea, the sudden fear of the plunge when he imagined the end- Servant could only do things he could imagine, and he couldn't imagine the final moment. Even in the end, he was scared- it would make him hysterical if not for the calm, collected beating heart he feels under his hands. "...That's over now."

"Even if it isn't," Kamakura tells him, "I would rather know you are safe."

He thinks about saying something in response, but they really were tired. After a few more moments, their breathing evens out so suddenly he thinks Kamakura must be able to enter REM on command- the thought is almost funny.

But, really, it's hard to be distracted by anything when there's a beating heart so close to his own.

[anulithots]

ok so i'm a bit curious

why does anuli hate faerself, and how does faer happiness cause harm to others? i've seen some posts about faer and fae is so interesting!!! if the reason is a spoiler for your wip i completely understand!!!! fae is my favorite <33

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE ASKKKKKKK! <3 <3

I think spoilers are better than trailers, shrugs SO YES I SHALL INFODUMP!! (Also most of this is backstory and I'll eventually get to the present day plot... aka: Anuli's insane shenanigans in an effort to rewrite faerself.)

("ANULI GUESS WHAT? YOU'RE GETTING FANART AND BEING A FAVORITE!!!"

... ignore faer reaction.)

Anuli is a houseplant, and given that fae's outside and permanently separated (fae doesn't remember how and I don't want to write it... it was in previous drafts, and I wasn't feeling it.), the elders of the Unseen deemed faer as condemned pretty much immediately, no whole 'evaluation period' like with other fairies (it's a whole process that's still pretty much inescapable when someone important suspects a fairy, but since the process is complicated the elders can use the excuse that they give the condemned/fallen fairies plenty of chances.)

So while all that happens in the background -Anuli's never that aware of the worldbuilding... or the world in general - Anuli's tethered to a 'fence' near Kamari's tree, (The elders wanted to condemn them both, so they placed Anuli near Kamari... meanwhile found family ensues). Anuli spends faer day daydreaming, telling stories, and hoping that Kamari stays forever and STOPS LEAVING.

Anuli gets both understimulated (can't get faer ideas out that much and this causes faer feelings to build up) and overstimulated (faer tether is really itchy to faer and without anyone around to distract faer from it, the tether bothers faer) when Kamari leaves, which causes faer to do everything under the sun to stay happy and pleasant. Anuli feels everything so strongly: happiness, distress, boredom, and fae often gets overwhelmed by them.

To deal with said emotions, fae makes stories to process them, and its happy endings fae clings to the most, and it's happy endings fae has a difficult time with.

All that's to say, one day Kamari leaves for a little longer than usual, and Anuli gets sooo upset at everything that fae tears off faer tether and goes to search for Kamari.

One whole arc I still have to write later, in which Kamari's entire life implodes, and the platonic ship implodes, and Anuli's safe place implodes, and Anuli is effectively a fallen fairy and...

Whenever Anuli is happy, fae makes some sort of mistake. Mistakes cause pain to others, ruin thier happy endings. Happy endings are what Anuli struggles with, so the story must not want faer to have one. What sort of character can't have a happy ending, what sort of character hurts others and deserves to suffer?

Villains, of course.

And because Anuli processes all faer thoughts and feelings through stories, fae puts faerself in this box, and justifies it because every. single. time. fae's happy fae makes some sort of mistake and spirals right afterwards. Every. single. time. fae's happy then Kamari suffers (fae isn't exactly wrong here...) and it's awful and there's so many icky emotions that Anuli cannot handle. Every. single. time. fae's happy Anuli re-realizes that everyone would be better off if fae wasn't.

So fae tries not to be. (fae wants it so bad)

Fae repeats the whole 'ripping off tether' situation, Kamari's distress afterwards, over and over and over again, constantly stews in that regret, over and over and over and over.

Fae deserves it. All that self-caused suffering and little self-destructive behaviors. It's a good thing, then not only will no one else have to suffer, but faer sensitive soul won't have to deal with the pain

TL;DR: it's a safety mechanism so faer past doesn't repeat itself (it always does).

THANK YOU AGAIN FOR THE ASKKK!!!!! KKFDSF I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY LITTLE BEAN

[greenlotusleaf]

Something to alleviate boredom. I'm not expecting a response.

Are you ever embarrassed because of how you eat? Do you notice the side eyes you get? They can't believe someone could let themselves go like you have. Has a stranger ever been bold enough to lecture you about eating healthier because of your condition? Or does the attention excite you? The expressions of disgust and awe at your size. They touch your belly and surmise twins or triplets. I don't even know the truth, but I'm glad to help you grow rounder and rounder and rounder...

The funny thing about this is, IRL I'm quite thin. Fantasies aside, this is just the way my body is, and I don't really do anything to try to maintain my weight. When my office started a running club and people were preparing for 5ks, people kept adding me to the group chat without asking me, because I'm "obviously a runner." (I'm not a runner.) So despite the fact that I'm often snacking, nobody ever gives me any shit about it. Just one manifestation of my thin privilege.

Now, if they knew the sorts of things I fantasize about? I'd implode with embarrassment, holy shit. I'd die on the spot, twice.

[terraliensvent]

Not a vent

I don't think xiao stepped down, they didn't have any badges for a little and now they have the approval mod badge again, so yea, still a mod (just info since recently some people said they weren't a mod anymore)

Also the server is so dead rn, I can't believe they're letting this last so long, im not sure how much needs to be fixed but ugh, the server is just a pool of boredom rn

xiao stepping down

i just looked and it doesnt seem that way, heres their current roles and the badge on their name

maybe you had a glitch?

also yeah, but i can kind of understand it being dead rn since a lot of staff left

i mean its better dead than imploding

[ruiniel]

Second meeting

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Relationship: Carmilla x Lisa

Characters: Carmilla, Lisa, kid!Alucard

Rating: G

Tags: Carmilla POV, Crack, Kid!Alucard, Lisa and Carmilla making small talk, Carmilla low-key crushing on Lisa idk, mature language

Also on ao3

Summary:

The randomness continues. Practicing warm-ups & ended up with this scene of Carmilla being out of her element while waiting for an audience with Dracula. crack, yes, crack

AN: this is for the anon who asked me to write a continuation to Frost. While I wrote this one a while ago and it has nothing to do with 'Frost', thought it would be fun to share another oneshot featuring these two here. What canna do, they're a fav crackship

It would be an outrageous insult if strenuous circumstances did not coerce her into this.

Carmilla’s stare burns holes in the back of the woman’s head, as if the right amount of staring could make Lisa implode.

Wishful thinking, a part of her whines, the part that sometimes has the unpleasant effect of reminding the vampire that she, too, was once human. She watches, calmly, in wait, as the doctor works her mixtures and blends and takes notes after notes, that frantic style humans have of marking everything onto something lasting longer than they.

Dracula has her waiting here like some lowly debtor, and now she’s stuck with his family of all things. Has the old man finally gone mad, procreating and... and settling with one of them, not even turning them? Not to mention handing over his knowledge for free to make them stronger.

And there's the brat, too, stealing curious glances at her for a while now. The last time they met, he was a dollop of a child. Now he’s still somewhere around the snotty age, a hatchling no older than ten, perhaps. Carmilla taps her nails over the long dark table she's leaning against. She must be dying of boredom indeed, allowing her thoughts to drift away when what she must do, is observe. These two are her liege’s most trusted possessions as it were, his only weakness.

"Is it terribly chilly in Styria this time of year?"

Carmilla winces, for some stupid reason having not expected Lisa Țepeș to strike up a conversation. But the woman gives the vampire a brief look that is both well-meaning and assured, and as such...

… For-god’s-sake.

The rules of hospitality must be upheld on both ends. "It’s always cold in Styria, lady Țepeș," and she smiles in a manner that leaves no doubt about it.

The woman stares her in the eye, and as much as that annoys her one supposes it’s expected from a human with such gall as to play house with Dracula of all people. "When there are no blizzards, there are storms, and with our limited resourcing…" The borders are harder to guard against greedy upstarts, food is more difficult to obtain. Humans are a crafty bunch, too, they know how to hide and fight, sometimes do it well. Styria’s mountains aren’t as populated and thus less bountiful than in dear old Wallachia, and the bastards don’t know how good they have it here. "... everyone struggles. Even us vampires."

"I’m sorry to hear," says Lisa, and did she just mean it? Carmilla resists the urge to roll her eyes as she tends to at displays of inane courtesies. "But either way, I’m sure my husband will be able to assist."

Assist. Not a word to ever describe Dracula in her known memory. It takes some strength of character to admit she is somewhat taken aback by the certainty of Lisa's tone. But she will not pick at matters of state with a human, even if this human exhibits some manner of intelligence and wit.

"Oh!"

There's coughing and arms waving, and Lisa flapping sheets of parchment at a thick yellowish smoke rising up in the air that might just smell like the sulfurs of Hell because it makes her gag;  she barely manages to keep her poise, hating them all the way. "What's happening?" she straightens, more alarmed than she cares to admit.

"The usual, don't worry."

The brat has spoken. She glances sideways at him, sees that ridiculously bright mop of hair pinned up with a purple bow like he's somebody's awful little surprise.

"Everything's fine!" Lisa is opening windows, looking abashed as she smiles over her shoulder at Carmilla, and doesn't that feel strange. "I've only botched certain quantities for this solution which means I must— oh, excuse me, I'll be right back."

Carmilla starts pondering whether she really, really needs Dracula's aid this time. Maybe Morana can think something up after all. Maybe they can retrieve those lands even with their odds of three to one.

"Adrian will keep you company," Lisa adds, rushing out of the wide laboratory and reception space.

"How lovely," the vampire mutters, rubbing at her temples. How she misses the good old nights, when such official matters involved a somber reception in a throne room, and leery, jealous power-grabby assholes she'd cut down one by one. When fucking Dracula knew whose side he was on.

"I've never met a queen before."

The spawn, it croaks. He's not looking up from his place at a desk, holding a piece of black chalk in his hand and hashing the roots of a flower or weed or some other such nonsense.

Carmilla huffs, a snark rolling so easily off her tongue only to recall that letting an immeasurably irksome pup peeve her would be a poor reflection on any such queenly qualities indeed. "In Styria," she answers with emphasis, "we do not jealously guard power. We rule as a council."

"So," the child frowns, taking up another page, "you’re not a queen," he states matter-of-factly. His nose is still in his scribbles and his heels thump against the wooden bench as Carmilla stares at him.

Why you impudent little rat.

"I am but—. We each have a part," she drawls, cursing Dracula again in her mind for good measure. "As a quartet."

"Hm." A shrug. "All right."

She's spared further pains with the return of Lisa, who makes an appearance with a few dusty scrolls under her arm and an urgent look on her face.

[corpsegold]

 I'm realizing that I use people like drugs. I get tolerance to them and then get bored. I never really turn up for them, I only pretend to when it serves me. I sometimes spend my energy on them to maintain the structure of the facade of the relationship but really I have no idea how any of it works and never really care about it intuitively. This might not be true all of the time but it's definitely true most of the time. I think sometimes I care about other people and can empathize, but 99% of my actions are entirely self absorbed, relating to how people feel about me and things.

How I make other people feel is not that relevant unless it relates to how they feel about me. How people feel about me is the most relevant thing period. This has been changing slightly with going to AA and thinking about practicing gratitude. I think sometimes I am kind even when no one is watching or would remember as well, it's just not my intuition to be like that.

This makes me a very unsavory person, even though I try to cover up that I’m this insecure and shallow. Even my family don’t like me, but I think that was true when I was a kid as well. This causes me to become very isolated- I struggle to make or maintain any relationships, even with other neurodivergent or addicted people for the most part. This causes me to drink to anesthetize, out of boredom, depression, social anxiety- missing the emotional regulation that comes from connecting with other people and getting perspective. I spend far too much time in my own head navel gazing and pathologizing myself. I’m obsessed with my own pain. I interact with people when it serves my fantasy, and get rid of them when I get uncomfortable, because I don't trust that they won't conspire to sabotage me, or because I don’t cope with any kind of perceived criticism well.

I’m realizing that the way I think is like, if someone is nice to me, it's because they fancy or are envious of me. This makes me distrust them because it means they’re dangerous, unless I’m drunk. If someone isn’t nice to me, it's because I’m awful and need to hide in a cave (or drink on my own.) Either way it results in drinking, but one of the big processes underneath it is being self absorbed in a paranoid way. I want to be a nice person. I’m excited for the journey to learn how to be, if it's possible. The way that I’ve been living has not been well. 

This explains why trying to be abstinent and engage with a program makes me feel suspicious of other people and want to retreat into drinking. Not because I enjoy the drinking (tho naltrexone has shown me that I do actually) but because it dims down how much I care about what other people think about me, letting me pretend to myself that I’m normal for a while. I need to find a safe way to deflate my ego without imploding, and get some real self esteem without becoming overtly grandiose- then people will like me even less. I have to learn how to manage my ego so I can tolerate being alive

[tales-of-cerano]

How I Overcame Insecurity as a Growing Artist with the Power of Appreciation.

TLDR: When looking at other people's awesome art make an effort to point out specific reasons as to why you like it. Great if you struggle with comparing yourself to others.

I've been on and off of creating art for the past ten years (though I was always into creating something) and the one thing that I've struggled with greatly is looking on the beautiful artwork of others with both admiration and jealousy. Following every thought of "wow look at that, it's amazing" was "I could never do something like that." My insecurities and anxieties would hijack my brain and just make me feel awful while making it really easy for me to quit.

And I've gotten a lot of advice from a lot of people on the world wide web and real life.

-dont give up! You miss 100% of the shots you don't take

-your art is great too!

-you just need to keep practicing, don't worry about the others

And much more like that. But for some reason it never really sunk in or I would ignore it thinking that it applies to everyone but me. I think the problem with a lot of common art motivational speeches and tips on growth is that they don't come with a lot of action or direction on what to do.

I'm a doer, I've always been, so abstract general advice of "keep trying" was never very effective for me. What really helped me was giving myself something to do when I saw art of others.

Whenever I see a piece I really like I force myself to go through it top to bottom, left to right and pick out everything I like about it. I look for very specific reasons as to why I think this piece looks cool or pretty or particularly interesting. Make sure you don't bring up yourself or your abilities when doing this. Pretend you are a curator looking to add a piece to your home collection. "oh I love the color pallette they chose" "they did a really good job on their typography" "that's some good use of line weight" A few great things come out of this simple change in mindset.

1. It gives my brain something to do so I don't go instantly to putting myself down. I think a lot of my personal insecurities come from boredom. Active minds need something to do or else they implode.

2. I appreciate art for what it is more. Instead of just simply thinking the other person is better than me I focus on why I find something beautiful. The value comes from concrete opinions rather than comparisons.

3. I put my ego on the back burner which makes me more open to others and the world as a whole. In a weird roundabout way the reason my brain comes up with why I'm never going to be good enough is to protect itself (from others saying it first or from trying with no success). Dr. K at healthygamergg helped me a lot when it came to understanding how ego can play a big role in insecure thinking. I highly recommend listening in on any of his streams/YouTube videos. Focusing on yourself (ego) when looking at other people's art just makes things worse.

And there it is, my only real art advice I feel like I can give. Thanks for sticking around if you made it this far. I hope this helps anyone else struggling with these feelings. If you have any advice please reply/reblog! I'd love to hear anything you got.

[eppysboys]

The way the bugs talk about how they need a Daddy figure to be able to tell them what to do and who is allowed in the studio but anyone who wants to step up to that role is rejected because it's impossible shoes to fill...

Yeah :(

It was incredible to see just how ridiculously hard they were pushing themselves to work and fill up their schedueles after Brian passed away. Brian worked them hard, but they decided to work even harder in his absence. What also stands out is that while everyone around them (MLH, mainly) are suggesting these huge spectacles, The Beatles seem to be more enthused about things that bring the focus on themselves and them playing music. Brian was theatrical but he wasn't daft - he could cook up Shea Stadium and the Our World set up and the various music videos but he knew buying an island was a stupid idea and that the Maharishi was bad news. He knew how to present them because he had more faith in their charisma and talent than the hysteria around them. But more than anything, he knew how to collaborate with them, he knew when to compromise and when not to.

It's during the time Get Back is filmed, more so than before, The Beatles are coming to terms with the fact they can't function on their own - something they probably somewhat believed they could do and felt disheartened when it became clear they absolutely couldn't. They wanted someone on their side, someone to patch up the cracks in the wall, fix up their problems and sweep certain things under the rug - and someone 'ordinary' wasn't going to cut it for any of them. It seems to me like they were only going to be drawn to someone with a big bold reputation, someone who seemed like they'd get things moving rather than just flatter them, quietly do their job and be a pushover for all of them. The appeal of Klein was obviously that he 1) Had that intriguing reputation (yuck) 2) He came on strong with bold statements about how great he was and how well he knew them and what direction to take them 3) John was having a breakdown and was desperately seeking security and safety 4) John and Paul had been flirting with the idea of him for years and was always going to appear on the list of potential people to look after them.

Why didn't they bother having a drawn out, careful and thoughtful process of selecting a manager? Because things were breaking down faster than they bargained for and emotions were exploding and imploding all over the palce. With The Beatles (ha) everything had to be done quick quick quick, no time for boredom, no time for wandering aimlessly, we've decided we need someone so we have to get them now! Who's the nearest shiniest object we can look to from our sinking ship? Which is probably makes up a part of why Paul looked to John Eastman the way he did - no time for meetings, no time for interviews (which would have been a struggle to organise with the others and I don't imagine he would have wanted to fish for potential managers by himself behind the backs of the other three), no time for outsiders who clearly had bad intentions - who's the nearest shiniest object I can look to and trust?