#i have cried all four times i played that segment

[ilkkawhat]

no no but really, now that i'm already three drinks in tonight and just feel like sharing, there is just something about the koskela commercials that add to this weird sense of nostalgia when I play aw2, added in with just the general beautiful scenery, listening to the pat maine radio show and hearing filth by national nightmare in that early part of the game...it just makes bright falls feel like home in a way that i never quite expected, esp given that i never played any remedy verse game, let alone alan wake (though like many things i get utterly obsessed with, i was at one time exposed to it i think during the peak of my twin peaks hyperfixation), and to just have that much of a connection to a game i got into literally at the end of november (the 23rd of 2023 to be precise) and maybe it's just because i have been so desperate for an escape and that's what this game gave me and not just that, it has inspired me so much to the point where i'm fucking drawing again--something that i was like traumatically discouraged from at a much too early age--and giffing and making graphics and writing when i swore i never would again...just fuck man. i feel like i have a few "cornerstone" pieces of media that have impacted me on such a highly personal level to the point where they might even change me a little but this....alan wake, remedy-verse, ilkka, all of that is just......something special

[ccborrega]

Listen I will not apologize for loving TP so much, I was like 14 when it came out and I literally dreamed about getting it since I first saw a poster of it in like 2004 Game Planet in Plaza Loreto like 200 meters from the same hospital I was born in. I was THIS CLOSE to skipping a choral event to get home and play it right away when I finally got it and when I finally did get home it was already past midnight so my dad would only let me watch the intro for the time being. The way I CRIED legit tears at the majesty of that opening. I spent like a week playing it near-non-stop because it was christmas break, my mom and sisters had left for mom's hometown and my dad left for work for most of the day so I could literally act like a gremlin without any judgment on anyone's part (Except my dog) and I only stopped to get snacks/cook me or microwave me some proper food, drink water, go to the bathroom or sleep. The amount of times this game made me cry, even Breath of the Wild didn't quite reach the number. I have loved TP Zelda with my whole heart since I first saw her, I was so distraught when she does the life-force transfer thinguie with Midna that it was the only day I stopped playing early since I'd cried myself into a headache. When my mom and sisters did come back, I had to say I hadn't gotten all that far and reset my game file because my sisters got mad that I got to play first and they would have been furious had they known I'd finished, so I got to play through it twice back-to-back (Which is also why a lot of it I remember so clearly. Even Wind Waker or Four Swords that I'm certain I've replayed more times than this I can't remember as clearly.) The huge cast filled to the brim with all sorts of creatures and characters, the way the mission is not so much to defeat evil but to help the different tribes and groups unite and become community, to save the Kingdom by saving it's people. The way my heart soared the first time I got to ride Epona through Hyrule Field and listen to the Ballad of Twilight segment of the music for the first time. The Hero's Shade! Back then we didn't have the 'Canon confirmation' that this was OOT Link but as a kid who grew up with OoT and MM how could I NOT join the dots and KNOW that was him? How could I not feel deeply touched and devastated to see him trapped as a lost soul?! The way the world felt HUGE running through it and finding secret spots here and there, and it felt real because all sorts of people- people with bad sides and good sides, people who were afraid but found courage with a little push, people who were as passionate about helping others as Link himself. Midna's ultimate arc being about realizing that caring is hard and it's painful and it makes you vulnerable, but it's WORTH IT.

Zelda games with like, improved mechanics or bigger maps or whatnot have come and gone after that, but to me nothing beats TP and probably never will.

[xmyshya]

Pvssy murdered on the Orgasm Express

summary: MSBY takes a night train to Tokyo for a match, but Atsumu has better ideas than sleeping. genre: crack, smut warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected sex, MINORS DNI betas: @vanille–kiss​ I love you birdie so much, you help me a lot and I'm forever grateful to you a/n: Fic is part of the HQHQ Server Collab with a prompt "Public sex/Chikan"! You can find the masterlist here wc: 1.6k

[Freeze frame] You open the door of your tiny room in a sleeping train compartment, only to be met with intense gazes of Bokuto and Hinata. Your hair is a mess, your clothes are disheveled, but the man stretching behind you looks flawless with his flowy blond hair and a lazy smirk. It’s painfully obvious what you’ve been doing.

[Record scratch] Yep, that’s me. You’re probably wondering how I got in this mess. Buckle up.

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

It’s going to be a long ride. You can’t recall the last time you travelled by public transportation and neither do MSBY boys, yet here you all are, on the way from Osaka to Tokyo. There’s an important game tomorrow, and the team's bus had the audacity to break down yesterday. Luckily, management splurged a little on a sleeping train car for the team, which means getting at least some rest.

This is the longest section, 6-hour train ride after the last transfer in Yamashina Eki. It’s nearing midnight, so you instruct the men to split between the rooms and get some rest before another change. They oblige without objections, shuffling into their segments, and soon the compartment falls silent.

It’s way past your usual bedtime, and now that adrenaline rush is over, exhaustion washes over you. The bed looks really inviting, especially with your boyfriend, Miya Atsumu, in it. He’s waiting with his arms open, prompting you with his hands to join in. So you do, laying down with your back pressed against his chest, his warm embrace making you relax with a content sigh.

“G’night, ‘Tsumu.”

You mumble through your sleepy haze, but instead of an answer, you’re met with a gentle rocking of his hips behind you and grinding of a growing erection against your ass. His breath is hot on the nape of your neck.

“I said good night, ‘Tsumu.”

“Heard ya the first time.”

His ministrations don’t stop though; it’s the opposite, actually. His hand finds its way under your shirt, calloused fingers gliding along the skin of your stomach in small circles, while he leaves open-mouthed kisses on your shoulder. You’re trying hard not to give in, firstly, because you don’t want to give him satisfaction, and secondly, because you actually intended to get some rest.

But when Atsumu’s teeth graze the sensitive skin you can’t help but let out a quiet gasp, and you can feel his lips curl into a smirk. Of course he knows your body way too well. His palm moves up in a slow motion, until it reaches your breasts; he gives one of them a gentle squeeze and brushes his thumb against a hardened nipple.

The blond’s lips move up your neck, biting, sucking, and licking, leaving red and purple marks on its way. His fingers play with the bud, rolling it and circling at the same pace as the languid movement of his clothed cock against your butt. It drives you crazy, but it’s not enough.

You place one leg over his; his thigh is now pressed to your covered pussy and you shamelessly roll your hips in search of some friction.

“Are ya this turned on already, Princess?”

His voice is low, husky, and sends a heated shiver down your spine. God, you think, how can someone be so annoying and so hot at the same time? He pinches your nipple and you moan his name, in response his chuckle rumbles through his chest. He loves how sensitive you are, he loves how his touch makes you pliant and needy.

“‘Tsumu, touch me.”

“I am touchin’ ya.”

Of course he knows what you mean. But he would lie if he said it doesn’t turn him on when you’re asking for things. When you’re demanding things. Another pinch on your bud and you jerk your hips at his cock.

“Finger me. Now.”

His erection twitches in his pants, and he’s dying to rip them off and just bury himself balls deep inside of you, but first, he has to oblige. Atsumu gives your breast last squeeze before trailing down. He draws his knee up opening you for his touch, and slides a finger along your covered slit.

“God, you’re soaked.” He half whispered, half groaned.

“Atsumu…”

He pushes your panties to the side and slips one finger between your folds. He pumps it in and out of your cunt, thumb massaging your already swollen clit. One of your hands disappears under your top, and through the thin fabric he can see you playing with your tits. His cock twitches again, and he pushes another finger in.

Atsumu picks up his pace, curling his fingers to make sure to brush against that spongy spot on your wall, that makes you clench so tight. You can feel the heat blooming in your abdomen, your boyfriend’s digits sliding and scissoring against your fluttering walls, as his thumb draws circles on your nub.

You come with loud moans of his name, screaming “Atsumu, fuck me” over and over again. And it’s all he needs to let go of his inhibitions, rolling you on your stomach and hovering over you.

He pulls your panties off and spreads your legs, kneeling in between them. Finally, he frees his already leaking cock, and it slaps against his abdomen.

“Lift yer ass a little, Princess.”

Calloused fingers dig into your hips as he helps you get in the position. The angle is low and uncomfortable, but works well with the moving and rocking train. Atsumu leans on one hand to your side, aiming his cock with the other. He glides inside in one swift motion, stretching you so deliciously, tip kissing your cervix.

“Move, please!”

The man shifts to all fours, and pulls back almost entirely before slamming his hips into yours. He does it again, and again, retracting slowly, letting you feel each vein of his cock, to thrust back in with enough force to push you forward on the sheets.

Atsumu rolls his hips in a circular motion, reaching deep and the angle allows him to drag his head along the g-spot repeatedly. He knows the pace is too slow to push you off the edge, but you still squeeze him tight with every brush on your spongy spot.

“Fuck, ya feel s’good. You… yer doing so well.”

He hisses through clenched teeth, praise sending a wave of pleasure through your body.

“‘Tsumu, faster.”

Your pleas are always his weakness, how could he say no to his little Princess when you’re asking him like that? He’s quickening his pace gradually, pushing out a moan after a moan from your throat. God, you sound so, so good.

“Babe, ‘m close.”

He groans as he reaches his hand between your thighs, the sudden rub on your clit makes your walls spasm and cry out his name.

“Baby, cum for… cum for me.”

The way Atsumu moans out those words drives you insane, his brutal rutting and relentless circling on your bud makes your orgasm hit you like a train. Your cries fill the whole room, and with the way your cunt clenches frantically around his cock, he can’t hold back either. He fills you with his milky release, as he rides you both down from your highs.

“Do we have wet wipes?”

The faux blonde mumbles against your shoulder blade, receiving only a hum as an answer.

“That good, huh?” he mutters as he hears your simple response, reaching into your bag to collect them.

“‘Tsum, gotta go to the bathroom.”

He cleans you and himself with damp tissues, and then helps you put on some clothes so you could leave the room. Atsumu snickers at your troubles with standing up, and you slap his chest for looking too proud about it. After a moment you’re able to take a few steps towards the door, and the man manages to pull up his boxers a moment before you slide it open.

Terror and embarrassment creep up on your features when you’re suddenly face to face with both Bokuto and Hinata, the former slapping something into the hand of his teammate.

Bonus scene:

Bokuto wakes up from his bladder being painfully full. He won’t be able to hold it in for another minute, so he taps his foot in darkness in search of his shoes. Still half asleep, he slides them on and waddles through the whole way to the toilet. It’s on the other end of the car, right behind your and Tsum Tsum’s room.

At first he doesn’t register the sounds, but as he reaches your door, the voices become clear. Moans. You two are having sex. And good sex at that. If Bokuto opened the door, he’d see you with your face buried in the pillow and ass up, and Atsumu railing you from behind.

But he doesn’t open the door. His first instinct is to run back to his room and disrupt the slumber of his mate.

“Chibi-chan! Wake up!”

The other man mumbles and turns to the other side, but Bokuto doesn’t get discouraged.

“Hey! Shoyo! You gotta hear this!”

With this Hinata sits up and rubs his eyes, but his friend already pulls him out of bed and into the hall.

“Bokuto-san, where-”

“Shhhh!”

And then he hears it. Your voices calling each others’ names.

“Who do you think is on top?” The taller man asks.

“Atsumu-san for sure.”

“I bet…” Bokuto searches his pockets and pulls out some bills. “2000 yen that it’s Y/N. If she comes out with nice hair, she was on top.”

Just as Hinata cheerfully declares “deal!”, the door slides open and they’re standing face to face with you. With messy hair. Behind you Atsumu is stretching looking as flawless as ever. Bokuto quickly slaps the money in Hinata’s hand.

[spidermilkshake]

"Sunny Shine"

A more dolled-up digital thing! We get a little fanfic vignette dohickey to go with this lovely digital drawing. Ethaniel is a real name I've known given to a real child by the way... XD Given FNAF's settings seem to have been largely centered in Utah the number of newfangled and hybrid-type names popping up in my Security Breach stuff will make sense.

Below this cut is the Story time! It is decidedly fluffy. XD

Sun was not supposed to, it knew. But once the boy's cries softened enough that he could choke out a whimpering account of what happened, the Daycare Attendant became caught up. By design, it was caught between two unbearable transgressions: It had, ever since the After-Close Halloween Prank incident, been explicitly banned from the ventilation systems, yet that was where 4-year-old Ethaniel's Freddy Fazbear Super-bounce ball had ended up, and its nerves were specifically grated at by its childcare programs the longer it detected tears on the boy's face. Ultimately, it made a choice, and had one protocol be manually overridden in that second of pause.

There was no need to damage any vent grates, thankfully, since the one Ethaniel's prized ball had disappeared into was already hanging open by a single half-stripped screw. It was dark, but due to the lighting of rooms it passed leaking through the periodic grates it did not quite dim enough to trigger Sun's mode shift into Moon-mode. The Daycare Attendant flinched in anticipation of the raucous clang it made as it dropped down a level and landed on its palms. It couldn't take too long; with noise like this, someone in kitchen staff or a ticket-taker would report the strange bangs. Its head revolved around, scanning each direction down a four-way split. Something brightly-colored caught Sun's eye and it sunk down into the narrow passage, hip segment needing to revolve the wrong way around in order to fit. The ball! ... The balls, plural. With a stunned silence Sun ogled the veritable hoard of lost toys, wondering if these had all been here this whole time, and how indeed so many had ended up only in this dead end passage somewhere above one of the staff kitchens. Its long fingers gave a furtive fidget; it could finish with these pretties later--for now, it plucked out every one of the globular forms it could make out and squeezed them tight between the fingers of one hand. A full set! Thankfully not any more than that. It needed its other hand to climb on the route back out.

Ethaniel had sat, flopped and pouting on the ground on the far end of the play zone, watching and waiting where his mechanical playmate had vanished into the wall, ten feet off the ground. Gradually, a series of low clanks and thunks began to grow in volume through the dark, echoing tunnel of dusty, galvanized metal. The boy stared--half scared as this was exactly the sort of place The Monsters would come from, and how their nearing presence would be sensed--but hopeful that something much friendlier would pop out of the ventilation warrens. And, like a bright yellow ferret, Sun materialized in the shadows and popped out, one arm dragging itself with a shrill grunt of disgust through a large cobweb, the other arm's hand crabbed up close to its torso--clutched around something. The boy perked up.

"Oof!" The Daycare Attendant made the ten-foot drop in the form of a rolling somersault, springing harmlessly back up though studying itself very warily on all parts vent-grime and spider-silk were now clinging. It grinned down at the pre-schooler, "Well, it needs a bath about as bad as I do, but lookee what I found!"

The boy gasped; his own arcade prize--the best he could afford due to most of the cabinets and party games being geared towards the slightly older audience--sat in Sun's large palm with just a bit of dust stuck to it. Between each finger was the Super-bounce with the designs of the other band members--a Chica, a Bonnie, and even a much-coveted Rockstar Foxy. These were varying levels of crusty, but with the promise of a good disinfecting the full set was as good as new. Ethaniel jumped to his feet and clamped himself onto the heavy photosensitive fabric covering Sun's leg in a tight hug. The robot squeaked, knowing how much dead insect matter was likely to be on that fabric by now, but chuckled anyways.

"Ohoho... well, now we all need a clean-up. Hold on tightly--let's go!" Sun strode off, pace slowed owing to having a passenger, hand balancing four colorful orbs and a processor humming with a bright, odd fuzziness.

[mutigold]

∞ for dessert — woosan.

summary: in which mommy and daddy come home to find their baby boy doing something naughty.

pairing: daddy!san x mommy!poc!reader x babyboy!wooyoung

genre: smutty smut

warning: daddy kink, mommy kink, hard dom!san, soft switch!reader, sub!wooyoung, food play, rimming, fingering, spanking, degrading, oral receiving [f. & m.], anal, sex toy, spit kink, choking, boyxboy, edging, face slapping, hair pulling, breast feeding kink, crying, aftercare.

word count: 1.8k

author’s note: heyy! i hope you enjoy this little segment! please support and give me some feedback cuz idk if i did this right for my first time 🥺 but i love you regardless 🤍

“honey! we’re home!”

you and san just got back from your first dinner without your babyboy, wooyoung. he had announced that he didn’t feel too well and decided not to go out; ushering you two to have fun without him.

so, you indeed that. san introduced you to a new korean restaurant where you could see the pretty, bright lights upon the city. you ate some tasty pork, siding it with white rice, and drank soju while chatting up with your first lover.

though, it felt weird without the baby of the trio.

before leaving the traditional establishment; you and san determined to be good partners, ordered wooyoung some vanilla ice-cream for dessert. “baby! we brought you something!” you yelled trying to get your second boyfriend’s attention.

“wooyoung?” san questioned.

you turned to san trying to figure out the situation, but he seemed confused as you. “let’s go check up on him. he still might not be feeling okay.”

when he agreed, you two proceeded to go up to your wooden stairs and near the main bedroom. though the closer you two got, the more vibrations became detected. the sounds of wooyoung’s pathetic and beautiful moans spread throughout the hallway.

“ugh, the nerve of this boy..” you croaked listening to the calls of both you and san’s names.

san looked you from the corner of his eye and replied, “you know we gotta punish him right?”

you sighed understanding he was right. the last time wooyoung pulled a stunt like this, you let him off like the soft dom you were. but this time, san was here to witness his doing; and you definitely didn’t want to defy him.

“let me go grab the ice-cream..”

opening the bedroom door, you spot wooyoung on the king-sized bed rubbing his cock and thrusting a small, pink buzzing toy in his hole. “o–oh fuck! mommy! oh, daddy! faster!”

you bit your bottom lip and felt your lace underwear become damp noticing that the sex toy was from your drawer. then, your eyes drew down to view wooyoung’s tight rectum clenching with every push. “yes! that feels so good! i–i think i’m gonna come!”

“oh honey, that wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do.”

wooyoung immediately stops hearing your stern tone. he jumps up from his initial position and hides the vibrator behind his back. “h–hi, mommy.” he mummers.

you sighed exploring different emotions due to his actions; “now babyboy. what were you just doing, and don’t lie to mommy.”

“i–i don’t know what you're talking about mommy.”

a sadistic smile creeps upon your face knowing san was literally gonna fuck his shit up. “babyboy, you don’t know what you just started,” you say as san walks into the door with the cold, creamy dessert.

wooyoung’s bunny-like orbs bounce to san’s shivering frame and waters with tears. “no! no! i’m sorry mommy! i won’t do it again! i promise!”

you walk toward your naked boyfriend and grasp his smooth chin shaking it. “no can do baby, i gave you a chance to explain yourself and now you have to suffer the consequences.” wooyoung’s lip quivers at your statement and looks at san again with fear.

straightening up your posture, you turn to the dominant male and vocalize, “do you wanna start or shall i?”

“i think you should. he’s not getting babied this time.”

sitting down on the bed; you pull wooyoung toward you, signaling for him to come across your lap. “how many should i give you babyboy? fifteen? maybe ten? i think ten is a good number–”

you sensed his cock twitch in excitement on your leg cutting your sentence off. “–and you better count or we’re starting over.”

slap

“one.”

slap

“two.”

slap

“t-three.”

san’s presence appeared behind you as wooyoung cutely whimpered the numbers. “look at that pretty ass turning red.”

slap

“what did i say babyboy, keep counting.”

“i–i’m sorry! four.”

slap

slap

slap

“eight, nine..”

your hand tingles with anticipation at the last spank. “come on, one more.”

“ah! ten!”

you flipped him over caressing his flushed bottom and kissing his wet cheeks. “aww, you did so good baby! but it isn’t over yet.” wooyoung’s blurry eyes look up to notice san licking his lips sadistically.

he roughly grabs his chin, bringing him towards his face. “listen to me, you little brat. y/n may be all nice and sweet to you, but this is the last time you act out. especially when we were so worried about your health; and you lied.”

“i-i’m sorry daddy!”

“yeah, you’ll be sorry alright.” he releases wooyoung and unbuttons his black, formal pants. “come suck on my cock.”

wooyoung quickly grips his monster cock, licking him from the base to his pre-cum covered tip. san’s nostrils flared up at wooyoung’s bratty actions, pulled the strands from his head, and slapped his face. “do. not. play. with me. either you suck my cock or you don’t get to come tonight.”

and with that, san begins to get sucked on. wooyoung deep-throats the cock; saliva dripping. “look at you taking down that big cock. you look so pretty babyboy.” you moan looking at your boyfriends play in front of you.

wanting in on that play, you rub on wooyoung’s ass as an idea pops into your head. “arch your back and spread your legs for me, honey,” you say picking up the melted ice-cream.

and he does just that still engulfing on san. you drop a pint of spit along with some of the dessert on your baby’s puckered star, rubbing your thighs for pleasure. then you lower yourself, licking inside of wooyoung’s ass.

“oh my god! mommy!” he suddenly shouts in pleasure. you began to french kiss his anus tasting the sweetness; trying to find that special spot inside of him. “keep sucking daddy’s cock baby.”

san groans deeply at your seductive voice and wooyoung’s moaning around his cock. “that’s it babyboy. should i let you come tonight? maybe we’ll make you apologize with come in your mouth first. then maybe your dumb self would get it after that.”

wooyoung rubs himself on the bed with every insult san makes and every thrust your tongue moves. “oh, i think he likes that daddy. don’t you baby?”

“mmm!”

switching it up, you stop rimming him, making sure to lick up all the cream, and stick three fingers up his ass making him whine. “shhh, baby. i’m just prepping you for daddy’s cock, okay? how about this; if you come up with a good apology for daddy and me, i’ll let you fuck me while he fucks you. how about it?”

he moans in agreement as san fills his mouth up with come. “good fucking boy making me come. come on, give us that apology.”

taking his cum-filled entrance off, he gibbers with, “i’m sorry! i swear i’ll never do it again! i swear this time, mommy, daddy! i’ll do whatever you want, please fuck me!”

you looked up at your other boyfriend once again trying to view his expression. if you were in charge at this moment, you would have accepted his apology; however, it was san that was in control and he was always unpredictable.

“what do you think san? was it a good enough apology?” you asked.

“mhmm... i think it was. turn over so i can stick my cock deep inside you while you eat mommy’s pussy out. then you can fuck her; i like that plan more, don’t you?”

“yes daddy, thank you so much!”

wooyoung turns over so you can sit on his face while san can fuck him. “let me taste your pussy, mommy.” listening to his command, you sit on his warm organ feeling him suck on your clit. “ohhh, baby..”

meanwhile, the dominant male pounds wooyoung’s ass hitting his prostate and making him gasp into your channel. “ah! yes, baby! suck my fucking clit! such a good boy for mommy..” with all your moaning, you didn’t even notice your eyes closing.

but when you opened them, they spot the small, pink sex toy at the corner of the bed. you grabbed it, turned it on, and placed it on the nerve tingling with pleasure. “yessss! stick your tongue me, baby! you’re about to make come! ah!”

creaming, your thighs shake from the sudden desire. you get off of wooyoung’s face, licking and kissing his wet face covered with your essence. “oh, you did mommy so good babyboy. are you ready for me to ride you?”

he whines in agreement as san pulls out of him; setting him up over by the headboard while being under him. “okay baby, i’m gonna ride your cock now.”

both you and san begin to push on him, giving him double the pleasure. “oh my god! i love you guys! i love you so fucking much!” he cries tears dripping down his sweaty face. you drop on him while the other boyfriend thrusts into him hitting his prostate again.

“please! please!”

the feeling of your clenched pussy around him and san’s large cock pushing into him began to make him go crazy. “i–i think i about to come! i’m about to come!”

you bring your small hand up to choke wooyoung’s slender tanned neck, demanding, “uh-uh, you don’t get to come before mommy and daddy honey. ah! come on baby, make us come.”

“oh, mommy! daddy! please come!”

grabbing more of the leftover melting ice-cream, you pour it along your chocolate breasts. “be quiet and suck mommy’s nipples, babyboy. it’ll keep your bratty ass close.” san huffed out still pounding wooyoung’s prostate.

so, that’s what he did. like a baby, the submissive male licked and sucked the sweet cream that was on your nipples. “ooo! you like mama’s milk, don’t you baby.” he moaned nevertheless fuzzing with overall pleasure.

“fuck, i’m about to come in your ass.”

hearing that, made you climb over the edge and come around wooyoung’s twitching cock. “oh! fuck! you’re making me come, baby!”

“shit me too, come with us babyboy. you have five seconds. one–”

not even a second later, wooyoung explodes inside of your cunt, painting your insides white. “ugh! thank you so much! i’ll never do it again!”

after coming down from all the sensory overload, you and san take the time to clean up and do some aftercare with wooyoung. “you did so good baby. i’m so proud of you. but why didn’t you tell us you were sexually frustrated?” you sweetly asked.

“i didn’t want to be a bother. i learned my lesson, i’m sorry.”

san kisses his cheek; replying with, “we don’t ever want you to feel like that. you’re also apart of this relationship, wooyoung. next time, just talk to us.”

“m’kay. i love you” he coos.

you giggled, also kissing his sweaty cheek. “we love you more, babyboy.”

“question, where’d that ice-cream come from?”

“oh! that was for the dessert.”

[anon-e-miss]

AU where Jazz runs a TON of charge. It takes ten spike overloads to satisfy him, and he doesn’t have a refractory period. After ten overloads in a row, he tends to go utterly feral—as if he’s in rut. Just mounting and clawing and biting and rutting away until he finally knots his partner and blacks out. This is only occasionally a problem, because basically no one can handle getting him off ten times in a row anyway.

Prowl, SiC, sees how this endless charge is impacting Jazz’s work (and quality of life). He has a crush, but he tells himself that’s not his motivating factor. Jazz needs someone he can trust to see him to blackout. Someone who won’t tap out three overloads in. Someone who won’t judge him for getting increasingly desperate and feral and possessive as he frags them.

Jazz maybe thinks no one could tolerate that kind of behavior. He might feel ashamed of the fantasy he has of ruthlessly fucking someone completely helpless. Someone who trusts him. (Possibly someone who would trust him enough to knowingly drink drugged energon hand fed to them)

Fortunately for him, Prowl thinks that fantasy is HOT AS A SMELTER.

Time for Jazz to finally get some satisfaction.

Despite the war ravaging the planet, Cybertron was seeing a mixing of frametypes like never before. It was by in large a positive as cultures that once stood well apart rubbed one side by side. It was not entirely positive. The differing needs if frame types could class, as Praxian Prowl had experienced this firsthand but at the moment he was not worried about himself or his framekin. He was worried about Jazz.

As Praxus had segregated itself from its neighbours with the great dome, Polihex had itself been segregated, the nomadic and semi nomadic groups had roamed the Wastes and the Rust Sea without fear of heat or storms where no other frametype had. Their frames had developed their own quirks and one of Jazz’s was coming into play.

He needed to frag. But Jazz did not trust so much and so easily as mechanisms thought. Why anyone believed a spy would be trusting, Prowl could not begin to understand. There were Bots Jazz trusted, his team, of course but his team did not comprise mecha capable of taking what Jazz had to give them. He was starting go get snappy, standoffish. It was effecting moral, that seemed like a good excuse.

"You need to frag," Prowl declared as Jazz smacked the datapad he was fiddling with. The Polihexian's visor flashed white.

"Not really yer business, Prowl," he replied. Prowl flicked a single doorwing.

"It is affecting your productivity," Prowl said. "There is no way in Pit I will authorize your deployment when you are in such a state."

"Ya can't order me to frag," Jazz said. "OP would have yer helm."

"Why would I order you?" Prowl asked. "We both know how well you listen to my orders. I am offering my assistance."

"I would ruin ya in two overloads," Jazz said. "Not worth the effort."

"You will find I was forged for endurance," Prowl replied. "I could take anything you give and more."

Jazz stared at him and cocked his helm as he looked Prowl up and down. Prowl did not flinch from the hungry in the mech's expression. He had won, and he knew it. At the best of times Jazz was hard pressed to resist a challenge. This was far from the best of times.

"We'll see."

There was something to be said for Jazz’s self-restraint, he had more of it than anyone, including Prowl would have guessed. He did not push Prowl down on his desk and frag him, but made an honest to Primus appointment for the coming dark-cycle and suggested Prowl take them both off the schedule for the next mega-cycle. Prowl had never gotten so thoroughly fragged that he could not work the next mega-cycle but he acquiesced. It was not as if he could not put himself back on duty as it suited him.

They met in Jazz’s quarters rather than Prowl’s, though Prowl’s rank afforded him best quarters; he had never changed from the original suite he had been afforded as a tactical officer. All he used his quarters for was recharge and the narrow berth was adequate for that. That berth would not serve a marathon interface. Jazz’s would serve that purpose far better. Prowl was not clear of what expectations he had possessed prior to his arrival but every preconception fled as soon as he stepped through the door. That unexpected self-restraint he had observed in Jazz in the light-cycle was gone and as soon as Prowl entered, Jazz was there. Prowl gasped with start as Jazz effortlessly disrobed him.

“Nice tits.”

Servos cupping Prowl’s wells, Jazz pushed Prowl up against the wall and covered his mouth in a crushing grip. He hiked up Prowl’s leg, hooked it over his hip and shoved Prowl’s modesty panel aside as it was still retracting. Prowl moaned into the brutal kiss as Jazz’s ground his palm into his node as his digits spread his folds. The preparations were quick, rough and Prowl was at a loss to do anything but cling to Jazz’s shoulders. He was embarrassingly wet, just dripping with slick before Jazz’s digits ever entered him. His valve made an obscene squelch as Jazz digit-fragged him, spreading his too long empty lining. Apart from the squelch all sounds of Prowl’s overload were muted, swallowed by Jazz’s hungry mouth.

With the nip of his swollen lower lipplate, Jazz broke the kiss and stared into his glassy optics. Prowl dug his digits into Jazz’s shoulders as the other mech suddenly pulled his leg over his shoulder and drove his spike deep into Prowl’s frame. The speed and the force knocked the intakes from Prowl and the sudden stretch burned but along with the burn was a sudden scalding pleasure as his internal sensors and nodes were quickly triggered. It was embarrassing how quickly he overloaded, screaming Jazz’s designation, before Jazz had even sheathed himself in his quickly spasming valve. His leg, the one still on the floor felt like gel and he trembled. Before he could fall, before he could even secure his grip on Jazz’s shoulders, Jazz yanked that leg out from under him and held him up as he thrust up into Prowl’s valve, carving through his internal seal, carving him open. Prowl’s mouth fell open in a shocked O. His doorwings smacked back against the wall. Jazz groaned, denta clenched as he took his pleasure. Blistering hot transfluids flooded Prowl’s tank. He panted. That was one for Jazz. How many did a Polihexian usually have in a session? Oh yes, ten or twelve.

Jazz’s spike was already pressurized again before he pulled out of Prowl. He tossed the Praxian over his shoulder and carried he over to his berthroom. Prowl squeaked when he was tossed onto the berth. Flushing madly, he shuffled back so his helm rested on Jazz’s pillow, then through his legs open and canted his hips as he reached between his thighs and he moaned as he held the rim of his oozing valve open. When Jazz fell over him, Prowl cried out with ecstasy. Jazz held Prowl’s legs up and open as he filled him in one great plunge. He caught Prowl’s nozzle between his denta and nipped and sucked.

With his helm pulled back by the firm grip Jazz had on his chevron, Prowl grunted and panted as Jazz reamed out his aft pipe. He had always enjoyed aftplay and nothing at all had changed here. Prowl dug his digits into the blankets below him and he pushed back into Jazz’s churning thrusts. His wells, too large for his frame, swayed under him. Jazz covered Prowl’s long neck with denting bites. When Jazz pulled out, transfluids drooled Prowl’s slack rim. That was three.

“New ya’d have a tight aft,” Jazz groaned as he watched his spend leak out of Prowl’s afthole.

A mech possessed, Jazz gave Prowl quarter, there was no respite. Prowl braced himself on Jazz’s taunt belly as he rode the Polihexian’s spike. Jazz tugged and pinched Prowl’s nozzles. He was rough as he played with Prowl’s heavy wells and fragged up into Prowl’s well fragged core. As his node ground into Jazz’s array, Prowl round Jazz harder, faster. His glossa lulled from his mouth as he moaned deliriously. Jazz reared up, taking Prowl’s nozzle into his mouth again as his digits drove into his drooling afthole.Prowl’s optics crossed and he overloaded with a wail as Jazz’s splattered his gestation tank with more transfluids. That was... four? Five? Prowl had lost track already.

He was not sure if he was overloading anymore, or if he just never stopped. Prowl panted as he twisted the pillow under his helm in his servos. Another pillow was beneath his hips as Jazz pinned him down, servos folded over his shoulders and drilled him deep. Prowl moaned softly as Jazz ran his servos over his back and doorwings and squeezed his round aft segments. He sucked a denta into the edge of Prowl’s doorwings. Somehow, Prowl found the energy to wail as he overloaded. His protoform rounded slightly as Jazz released into his tank again. Prowl panted. He spent. Jazz rolled him  and pushed his legs open. Jazz was not.

Jazz stood up on his knees and rutted into Prowl’s sloppy valve.The angle he was using dragged Jazz’s spike against Prowl’s gamma cluster and his internals clenched  as sparks flew across his vision. HIs peds curled, Prowl reached between his own legs to furiously, rub his anterior node. With a shrilled shriek, Prowl overloaded but Jazz never stopped stimulating Prowl’s gamma cluster and soon Prowl was overloading again, his valve sprayed lubricants out around Jazz’s spike.

Prowl drooled against the pillow as Jazz crouched over his upturned aft and growled as he plunged his spike into Prowl’s quivering channel. His protoform was bloated, inflated with Jazz’s transfluids. It was going to take orns for the swelling to go down, Everyone was going to think he was carrying. Something heavy and solid ground against Prowl’s slack folds. The knot. He still needed to take Jazz’s knot. Prowl sobbed as the thick swelling at the base of Jazz’s spike butted against his rim. As it was, he was already so full. Overwhelmed, Prowl tried to wriggle away but Jazz bit his doorwing and hiked his hips up, and forced the knot passed the last of his internals’ resistance.

Jazz’s overloaded with a grunt, the force of his spill so much strong and the amount so much greater. Prowl dragged his servo under him and felt his swollen belly where he was inflated with Jazz’s spend. Groaning softly, Jazz collapsed against his back and his spike twitch with another spurt of transfluids as he fell into stasis lock. Prowl tried to push himself up, to get himself out from under Jazz but he was too tired to dislodge the mech. His optics grew dim and he resigned himself to recharging with Jazz pinning him to his filthy berth and his spike knot deep in his tank.

[yn-x-animeboy]

Jungkook x y/n (as a famous artist) Pt.4

pairing: reader x Jungkook

genre: fluff, romance, for entertainment purposes

BTS x Fem Reader

synopsis: You are a popular artist in America, pretty famous, loved and well-known by the general public (actually you were one of the top 10 artists in the world but you are pretty humble and naïve to realize your popularity), one day during one of your fan meets you talk about how much you love BTS, and not only how you wish to meet them and work with them but how Jungkook is one of your celebrity crushes. During the meet you fangirled with other ARMYs in the crowd; video clips of you fangirling and talking about BTS at your meet where posted and reposted all over social media. This obviously broke the internet because you were not only a famous singer but you also were always accepted and loved by ARMY and this made a lot of people happy. Suddenly it felt like everyone wanted you to meet the seven handsome and talented idols and collaborate, but you could only wish, you believed they didn't even know who you were...or so you thought

Parts: 1 here, 2 here, 3 here 

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Part 4 - Hotel? Trivago.

you started to sing and suddenly you heard a voice behind you singing with you, and you couldn’t even turn around to prove you were not mistaken, you knew that voice too well, the live audience was losing it, the crew looked excited, you went numb, you looked back and it seemed like a joke, a complete dream…..

The seven guys were coming out from behind the curtain, being led by Jungkook, he was singing the bridge of the song, mic in hand and just looking at you. Your knees gave out and you curled on your knees as you cried on your knees, ‘there is no way’, you could even begin to process what was going on, The boys were a little shy and stayed behind you as Jimmy lifted you from the floor and made you look at them. 

Once you could stand up/being held up by Jimmy, RM was the first to approach you, they all introduced themselves and after they bowed their heads out of respect and you did the same, you looked at them in awe. Then they greeted Jimmy too. Jungkook signaled you to keep singing the last part of the song and as a professional singer you did. You picked up your singing almost at the end of the song: “kkumeul geonneoseo supul neometro, seonmyeonghaejineun geu goseuro ga” holding the mic with to hands trying to hide your shaking hands Jungkook standing next to you to the left and the guys with Jimmy around the both of you; you lifted one hand from the mic and showed it to the closest people to your right which were Jimin, V and Jimmy; and just as you put it up to show how shaky it was Jungkook took your hand as he sang: “Take my hands now, You are the cause of my euphoria.” You really looked at him for the first time ever, you had never seen him in person before…. Your eyes met each other for a split second.

The guys, Jimmy, the crew, the audience, everyone cheered and squealed at this little interaction; you both blushed and dropped each other's hands. You turned back to hide your face covering your mouth as you got teary eyes. The guys near Jungkook hit him and teased him due to his ‘out of the blue’ confidence. He was normally more shy when it came to interactions with strangers, especially if it was with women. But even Jungkook seemed surprised at himself; he blushed too, but kept going. You both finished the song, harmonizing perfectly, facing each other, but avoiding his eyes, you felt so vulnerable looking at his eyes.

They all applauded once you finished and they cut to a commercial break. The guys were taken by crew members to get mic'd up, and Meg once again for the third time tonight fixed your appearance. They went back from break and sat on the couch next to Jimmy, they made a space for you in the middle of the guys, and you took a seat with trembling limbs as the ‘back from commercials’ music played and the audience cheered.

On the main couch sat RM nearest to the desk, then you to his right, Jungkook next to you and Suga on the end of the medium couch; behind you V, Jimin J-Hope and Jin sat on higher chairs all facing the front. Jimmy spoke “so I heard you introduced yourselves o y/n in english with the help of RM, but she can actually speak Korean. Y/n why don’t you introduce yourself?” They all turned to you from all angles; “Oh i'm so sorry; RM was so kind to translate when they introduced themselves, I didn't want to seem rude by interrupting him, but sure um-” you switched to korean and looked around you to the boys “Hello, my name is y/n, I am so pleased to meet you all, it's a dream come true, please take good care of me” The guys immediately made small comments at your cute Korean accent, “aww so cute” “wow you are good” “cute” even though a Korean person could probably tell Korean was was not your first language due to the accent difference, you where really good at it. 

“So I wanted to ask the guys a couple of questions too, thank you guys for coming, it's always a pleasure to have you all.” Jimmy said, after this he introduced them to the audience and gave them a proper introduction. Jimmy proceeded to catch up with the guys, asking them questions too; you helped RM translate too, which made the interview run smoother, you were making the guys laugh with your small contributions (by adding comments or opinions in Korean). During this time Jungkook and you were sitting so close to each other, you could see eachother out of the corners of your eyes, you were each other's celebrity crushes after all.

After a while you started loosening up and getting more comfortable; this was part of your personality, you were known to be a social butterfly, so even though this was a dream come true and you couldn’t stop crying like 15 mins ago; your body knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and that there is no time to be all shy and quiet. You got looser, bolder, and more confident, actually showing your real personality, the personality the boys knew you like from your videos and social media. (and the personality that made Jungkook so drawn to you in the first place.) Your change in personality even made the boys less stiff and more relaxed too.

After the catch up with the guys you all stood up to play another one of Jimmy’s famous show games/challenges/activities. “So now that you all are more comfortable with each other let’s play a game, this game is called ‘Guess The Jam’, Basically we will play a song and like earlier you have to dance to it; the difference this time is that the dancer will be wearing headphones and others have to guess the song they are dancing too by just judging the dance moves. 

Y/N will be dancing to BTS songs and BTS is going to dance to y/n songs, yes?” You were now standing WITH them instead of next to them/distant from them, you all seemed like you bonded. “yes” “Let’s GO!” “I got it”.

Again the game was a success you danced to multiple songs and they all guessed their title by your dancing to all of the songs that had been assigned to you; and you were so impressed at the seven grown a*s men, dancing perfectly to random songs of yours, you guessed most of them, but you got distracted at times form the hilarious scene in front of you. *J-Hope trting really hard to coordinate everyone in seconds to make the dance clear, they eventually would give up and dance their hearts out*, leaving you with no other choice but to TRY and guess what the hell they were dancing to. 

At some point the maknae line (V/Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook) made you dance with them to some of the songs (IDOL, Boy with luv, Burning up, etc) while the hyungs cheered you guys on, and also while J-Hope recorded you four like you were his children dancing at a school show. 

You all took a break after the dance segment and went to freshen up while Jimmy did another sponsorship. You changed back to your Fancy outfit and Meg AGAIN, for the millionth time tonight fixed your image, your team/crew would hype up and get all supportive since BTS arrived, telling you you were doing great, and how this was your dream come true, etc. You thanked your manager too, every time you briefly saw him during the ‘touch up moment’, then you went back to the studio couch with the boys in the same order you were sitting before.

You didn't notice but Jungkook looked at you in awe as you came out with a different outfit, the guys had been watching the whole show up to the point where they surprised you backstage, meaning he had seen the outfit before, but the view in person was different; he proved his hypothesis to be right...you truly lighted up a room the minute you walked in it. He composed himself, he was being shy and quiet while you were showing a more inviting and relaxed vibe. (Pfft he had no idea you were still shi*ting your pants hahaha).

“So  y/n and I talked about this earlier; she is going to be performing tomorrow for the Billboard awards, and I hear that you guys will also be performing. Is that true? RM was about to translate to the guys and then answer Jimmy, but you handled it and translated Jimmy’s question to the guys for him, letting him answer comfortably; sometimes he could have a hard time during interviews in english because he had to constantly translate for the guys; this little gesture meant so much to him. “Yeah, we too are going to be performing tomorrow, we are really excited and thankful for the opportunity, and we are also excited to watch the whole award show too,” RM said. They were also nominated and were going to watch the show, you got a little excited your were going to see them again tomorrow, even if you knew you probably were only going to be able to see them on stage due to how hard it was actually to ‘hang out’ with other celebrities on award shows due to the different schedules and hectic environment. Nevertheless you were trying to enjoy your little burst of confidence and take in every moment right now with the guys; you knew your friendship would probably last only for today. (a/n oHhH muahahah u thought y/n)

-------- 

The Jimmy Fallon Show was a complete success, the plan worked, your team and BTS’s team with the help of Jimmy were able to surprise you guys; the timing worked because you were both in the same place due to the billboard awards and your performances.

After the show you even hung out a little with them before you all had to go. The chemistry between you and the guys was unbelievable, it seemed like you guys had been close friends all this time. 

RM and you bonded over speaking english, even teasing others by speaking english and not translating back for them; Suga and you had bonded over producing music, you both talked about how the process is for the both of you, and he even said he would love to work with someone like you (even though he was normally a more chill, cold person to strangers, he immediately felt comfortable to show you his warmer side, that’s your charm); J-Hope and you bonded over dance, you both ‘fangirled’ about each others’ skills, you too both agreed that working with each other in the future would be so cool; Jin and you seemed like siblings I swear, he too is normally more shy when it comes to one-on-one interactions with strangers but due to your boldness, you immediately bonded by teasing each other, he would also try and make you cringe with cheesy Korean dad jokes, but you always had another cringier joke to fight back with; Let’s just say you passed Taehyung’s vibe check, he really likes your personality and you met all his expectations of you, he was not disappointed, out of all of the guys you had the quickest bond with him, he now even has a nickname for you and you too also start to call him ‘Tae Tae’ after just a couple hours of meeting; Jimin struggled a little at first to approach you, he was really fangirling over you once the cameras were cut, but you approached him and made him feel comfortable, he then immediately loosened up and bonded over your similar personalities, it was like hanging out with a literal different version of yourself, you even already had inside jokes with him too; and Jungkook…. oh Jungkook, you guys seemed to fit so well, in the little time you both hung out you were making each other cry laugh, you had small conversations about music, dance, about your cultural differences, he even said that if you ever went to Korea, he would like to show you around his favorite places, but every time you guys would chat with each other or literally by just existing next to each other, the guys would act weird and either make small comments and noises to tease you, or try and give you space in the small dressing room by standing up from the couch and dashing to the corner of the room (again imagine six grown men huddled in the corner trying to act ‘natural’ when Jungkook only handed you a bottle of water that was brought in by a crew member).

It was crazy how quick you all created this friendship, the guys had already talked amongst themselves and agreed that no matter what, they would really care for this friendship and that they would do everything in their power to keep you in their lives (Suga said that he was down to kidnap you from america and take you to South Korea in case you all became distant). 

You were currently sitting in their dressing room chatting, basically getting to know them and them getting to know you (y'all were having some deep conversations) you also learned you were staying in the same hotel and that the next day you all had rehearsals at the same time for your performances, you compared your schedules and  they seemed to match up for the most part. In conclusion you were staying at the same hotel, had rehearsals at 8:00 am in the same location the next day, and you guys wanted to hang out a little more.

Your managers came in to tell you that the cars were ready to take you to the hotel, you got a little sad you had to leave them for the ride back, but their manager said “Oh, y/n, you get to choose who you want to travel back with, we canceled your car so that you could drive back with the boys” you smiled from ear to ear and quickly introduced yourself to the bilingual man in charge of managing the guys behind you who were currently fighting over who you got to ride back to the hotel with. 

-------

Due to the fact that no one wanted to be left out riding back without you, you where currently eight adults...packed tightly into a small van on the back seats. Both of your teams/staffs watched as you all tried to get in the van, like children (screaming, pushing, laughing) they didnt know if they should find this cute/funny or drag you all into separate vans once and for all. 

“Dude I can feel your fuc*ing hair IN MY NOSE, move” Suga spoke, “Whose hand is that, ey they getting friendly” Tae said, as a joke you said “That’s my hand, my bad” making everyone laugh. “Jimin you know, you are not so light weighted, I need blood circulation” Jin commented, “Oy aren't you sitting too close to y/n kookie? If something happens I’m taking y/n’s side.” You all laughed, it was true tho, you were basically on top of Jungkook but weren't you all ‘TOO CLOSE’ to each other? I mean- 3 seats for 8 adults? It definitely defied the laws of physics but it worked out. 

The ten minute ride to the hotel was interesting; the first 5 minutes were silent, after 2 minutes you asked for the radio, but it was broken, after 2 more minutes you could faintly hear Jin’s moaning out in pain as he was being suffocated; due to the weird sounds he was making, the context and your ‘dirty minded heads’ you and JK burst out laughing, making the others infected with your laughter, this until you arrived.

Once you were at the hotel, your teams made you stand like disobedient children in a line ‘soldier style’ while they arranged the room situations. (you had stayed at a different hotel in the afternoon due to its closeness to the Jimmy fallon set and due to the fact you only used it to nap and shower, but this hotel was closer to where the billboard awards where and to where your rehearsals were so this was your temporary home for now, aslo your team had to rent a lot of rooms for the 20 or so people traveling with you. BTS had to do the same) 

While the keys were being activated one of the BTS staff members started to ask the guys for their room service orders, so the kitchen could start making them; your manager’s assistant also took your order and while you were busy choosing your dinner, the maknae line had an idea...

Once you finished ordering Tae and Jungkook interlocked their arms with yours tightly and Jimin spoke to staff: “Excuse me could you please be so kind to send all of our meals to Jin’s room, (turning to YOUR staff he again spoke in broken english) y/n would also like her dinner to be sent to Jin’s room, than you all, gudnait”, 

While Jungkook and V dragged you, Jimin bowed to the staff and followed you. Suga was cry-laughing at your cruising while being dragged away, he lifted one of your dragging legs up and RM followed him, lifting the other leg. J-hope started recording the whole ordeal. Jin was following them as he suddenly realized... “Oi why does it always have to be my room? I always end up smelling like steak '' he kept following anyway. 

Your manager speeded up and walked next to your now lifted body and told you to have fun and to go to your room early to be responsible and not stay up so late for tomorrow’s early rehearsals (cute scene: without putting you down the boys stopped and lowered you a little so that you could say good night to Sam and he could kiss your forehead, they they lifted you back up)  

You arrived at Jin's assigned hotel room and the guys comfortably all spread around the room; you walked in a little shy because you had never hung out  like this with anyone, plus you didn't know what to do…. Jin was the last one to walk in and he put his arm around you encouraging you to walk in with him, he even pushed Jimin off the bed so you could sit there and he took the desk chair while you all waited for the food. You all had dinner in Jin’s room, sitting on the floor and drinking wine (Jin and Jimin insisted on having alcohol) you were having so much fun. After dinner you all kept drinking while playing drinking games with the tiny alcohol bottles hotels provide.

It was really really REALLY past your bedtimes; just analize with me: if the Jimmy Fallon show ended at 12:00am and you  guys got to the hotel at around 12:30, you had dinner, played games, drank, etc.; imagine what time it is currently…. 

You all were at least little tipsy by now, RM spoke to everyone: “Guys-ss we should probably go back to our rooms, wE hAve to be aWake and readY to gOooooo. for tomorrow..” even though he was all sloppy and slow form the alcohol he was still following his ‘leader’ role. Everyone drunkenly cleaned up Jin's room and stood up to leave to head to your rooms. Out of everyone in here, you and Jungkook were the least drunk; not because you drank less, but apparently you both were better at handling alcohol than the others.

JK offered to walk you to your room because even if you weren't super drunk you were still a little sloppy (which he was too) and your team had rented the floor under so he didn’t want to leave you alone to find your way (you found this so cute, no one had ever treated you like this, he was a true gentleman). 

Obviously the guys teased when you both walked together in the same direction, you just kept walking, making small talk. Once the elevator arrived on your floor you thought JK would ride the elevator back, but he insisted on making sure you were safe inside your room before he left. You walked through the hall, heels in your right hand and Jungkook walking to your left. You suddenly passed by a clear door that showed outside to a terrazze (basically used for smokers, but other people could use it too) and not thinking it through you took JK’s hand and walked outside.

It was a warm night and the terrazze was pretty dark-ish and small, but the view was beautiful; the night sky contrasting the bright lights form the buildings’ skyline. You looked at the view, mesmerized by it, Jungkook could only look at you, he thought you looked too beautiful and as you tightly held on to the railing looking out wide eyed at the pretty lights. 

You turned to him and realized he was looking at you, you analyzed his face thinking: ‘waw he is the most handsome man I have ever seen’ as you looked into his eyes, even through your tipsy state you realized >OMG I'M STANDING OUT HERE WITH JUNGKOOK, THE. JUNGKOOK., FUC*K, I PROBABLY LOOK LIKE SHIT DAMMIT, WAIT THIS IS MY CELEBRITY CRUSH, WHAT DO I DO 

You seemed to be getting physically closer and closer to eachother, he was looking down at you in such an adoring way, but in his head he was also thinking…> OMG I'M STANDING OUT HERE WITH Y/N, THE. Y/N., FUC*K, I PROBABLY LOOK LIKE SHIT DAMMIT, WAIT THIS IS MY CELEBRITY CRUSH, WHAT DO I DO , but even though you were BOTH freaking out, the two of you knew this was a once in a lifetime opportunity, having someone so special to you, like this, in front of you…

You were now standing inches away from each other's faces, “hi…” you said, almost whispering as you smiled sweetly at him, looking from his eyes to his lips.

“Hi” Jungkook said in a raspy almost sleepy tone, smiling with his teeth and suddenly dropping his smile back down as he followed your eyes; he wanted to close the space between you two, but he didn't want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable or think of him differently. 

You were the first to speak, breaking eye contact and looking at his chest. “Um, could I, if it’s not too weird, um- put...my arms around you?” you immediately regretted it; what if he didnt understand your Korean, what if you translated it wrong in your head before saying it outloud what if-.... A small chuckle coming from in front of you stopped your train of thought, Jungkook put his hand under your chin and lifted your face to look at him again; he took your arms and placed them around his neck; he then put his hands on your waist, but loosened his hold and asked if you were okay with that and you nodded.

You both stared at each other’s eyes; you both fit so perfectly in each other's arms you felt so comfortable. The tension could be cut with a knife, you looked back at his lips and he did too; getting closer, you could feel his breathing on your face, you both closed your eyes and barely touched your lips together when his phone went off for the millionth time startling you, you both separated your faces and looked wide-eyed at the other, a tint of blush on your cheeks… you kissed him, he kissed you, even though it was the tiniest, shortest, lightest kiss in the history of kisses you both felt happy about it. When you realized you two had the same expression on your faces you both laughed, you had never been this comfortable with a man before, specially in such a short period of time.

His phone ket going off and off, “My phone has been ringing for so long now hahaha, since we left the elevator it has rung, but I didn't want to answer and um- you know… I don't want to answer and not be focused on you” he said as you both took a step back from each other and as he answered the 37th call after ignoring other 36 calls. 

“PFFfffft ohhhhh he answered, hi guki, um ahahaha shut the fAq uP Tae ahahahah um…. we….. can't get into our rooms'' you could hear the snickers and slow words through the phone, you and Jungkook still felt a little numb and sloppy from the alcohol, how could they be so drunk?. 

“Hyung… ugh fine, i’ll be there don’t go anywhere, nobody move, okay?” he hung up and humorously sighed, he would normally find this situation to be hilarious but the fact that he had to interrupt a once in a lifetime moment with his celebrity crush so that he could help his older brothers….dam.

You chuckled at his reaction, you picked the heels from the ground and boldly kissed him on the cheek, you walked in front of him to head inside, knowing how caring he was to his friends; but before you could go inside Jungkook stopped you by taking your hand, “I know this is an embarrassing question but if I don't do this now I may never be able to have this opportunity again…” 

You were still facing the door, your hand in his hand behind your back; frozen from anticipation of what he might say next. 

“Can I um-, *deep inhale* can I kiss you one more time before you go?” you immediately turned around (and this might be the alcohol working it’s magic but you thought ‘he is right, if this was someone else you probably wouldn't have kissed them first day after meeting meeting them, but this was Jungkook, your ‘platonic crush’ from the other side of the world, what if after this weekend you never saw each other again?’) 

Dropping your heels, and letting go of his hand you wrap your hands around his neck, pulling him in to you and kissing him; you both smiled against each other's lips form the sudden butterflies in your stomach and happiness you felt. He pulled you even closer with one hand on the side of your face and the other on your hip, then he wrapped his arms around your torso and you put your arms around his neck holding each other tighter. 

This was no ‘take me now’ R-rated kiss at all; it was a more soft, intimate, sweet kiss. You let go and hugged each other one last time on that terrazze; normally you both didn't really like the whole “corny lovey dovey” scene, so once you let go you both chuckled at your cheesy moment. You walked back inside with him to look for your hotel room, he even asked if he could hold your hand while walking down the hall, you laughed a little at him and took his hand confidently. You remembered your manager told you your room was 456B when the boys were dragging you at the entrance. You  finally arrived at the door, you turned to look at Jungkook and thanked him with a warm genuine smile; he leaned down and kissed the side of your mouth and smiled back and said goodnight with his bunny smile.  :,) 

You turned around and turned the handle to open the door, it didn't open… and something finally clicked in that drunken little head of yours…. SAM NEVER GAVE YOU THE FUC*ING ROOM KEY… you felt like panicking, it was almost 5:30 am, you had to be awake in 2.5 hours for rehearsals and you had nowhere to sleep, instead of crying you laughed, you burst out laughing; Jungkook covered your mouth and leaned over you with your back against the door; he was looking around with a quiet giggle to make sure you didn't wake anyone up.

“ahhh *small giggle* ahh um yeah I would normally just cry in these situations but I- I don’t have a key… Sam didn't give me one” Jungkook was about to come up with a plan to solve this but you knew what he was going to say:  “The front desk won’t open that room for me because it is not registered under my name, for security reasons; Two they can’t give me another room because I need my card and ID to get one and I only have my phone with me; Three, I can’t wake up sam or anyone in my team because A. it isn’t their fault and I would be disrupting their sleep, B. I will get in trouble because Sam told me to come back early, and C…. idk but I wanted to say ‘and C’ ” you said, Jungkook looked down at you and couldn’t help but laugh at you. “Hey don’t make fun of me, it’s not my fault” you poked his chest. He stopped, “No, I’m not laughing at you, the guys have a similar problem apparently what a coincidence” he answered. The both of you decided to go see the guys first before trying to figure out what to do, together, as a team of 8 drunk heads. 

When you arrived on the top floor, there they where, 5 drunk BTS members in front of you; RM was leaning over a hallway wall talking to ‘nothing’ as if he was practicing how to flirt with an invisible person; J-Hope was passed out in fetal position on the floor; Suga was cry laughing rolling on the floor while also trying to click the camera button on his phone as he wobbled back and forth clicking on everything but the camera icon; Jimin was standing still, phone still in his ear, he looked at a statue (remember Kookie said on the phone with Jimin ‘nobody move, okay?’ well Jimin hadn’t moved ever since Jungkook hung up the phone); Tae was literally in the middle of performing some sort of strip/circus/magic/dance show for Suga when they realized you two standing there they composed themselves “what… the hell? hahahahahha, what happened?” You laughed out loud and Jungkook immediately covered your mouth, he quietly giggled as he had done this exact thing minutes ago too. 

In summary, once Jin waved everyone off he went into his room, that's why he is not here; Suga struggled to find his key but eventually found it in his suit jacket and was able to go into his room, he barely spent one minute in there when RM knocked at the door and told Suga that he had no idea where is room was, the keys where not numbered, so Suga said ‘I can help you’ and went out to the hallway to help him but even Suga was confused as to how HE found his room so he told RM don’t worry, sleep in my room and tomorrow the staff can help you, when he turned around to open the door Suga realized he left the key inside. J-Hope had passed out in Jin’s room and Jin had said it was okay for him to stay in his room, but J-Hope had woken up and said good night and walked out so Jin though he was all good and on his way safely to his room...WRONG, J-hope gave up 5 steps down the hall and said ‘i need rest, here floor *thump*’ and dropped on the ground; Taehyung didn’t even know he had a room for himself, so he definitely he has no idea where his room was supposed to be; and Jimin did know where his key was and room, but it apparently was deactivated, but seeing how everyone was up here he opted to not go get it reactivated, he didn’t want to be left out.

Jungkook started losing it, cry-laughing at his friends; this time you humorously covered his mouth like he did to you, as you tried to think of a solution. BINGO, you rang Jin’s door insistently until he opened up. Once he opened the door with sleepy eyes he analized the scene behind you and your hand covering the youngest member’s mouth he sighed, allowing you all inside his room. 

All of you knew you had less than 3 hours to sleep and actually do a good job tomorrow so everyone took up a spot to rest. In the bed J-hope and Jin slept comfortably; Suga fell asleep sitting down on the desk chair; Tae slept in the bathroom’s bathtub; RM threw himself on the tiny couch for two with his arms and legs hanging out from the sides; you sat on the floor leaning against the wall, Jimin used your leg as a pillow and Jungkook sat next to you, he actually did have his hotel key with him and knew his room was literally the one next to this one, but he wanted to be where you where. You both also fell asleep sitting leaning against the wall.

-----

PART 5------> here

Thank you all for giving my fanfic a shot. I will keep doing my best to give you a good story, please interact with the post :) Xx

[skullsandwineglasses]

Remembrance of Things Past - Eps 1-10 Impression/Rant

Not really a first impressions post since there are only 2 episodes left, but as I’m waiting on the last few episodes, I thought I’d rant a bit about the drama here. 

First of all, I agree with everything that AvenueX said in her review of the first 6 episodes. Her review is what prompted me to start the drama. I needed a realistic slice of life drama to balance out the idol drama that is You Are My Glory (which I’m also waiting on for new episodes), and ROTP seemed to fit bill. ROTP is just so good.

I binged ROTP in 3 days. It could have been 2 days, but I started it at 2am on a Wednesday night, so I didn’t get very far the first night. Each episode is about 75 minutes long, so almost the equivalent of 2 regular lengthed episodes, but not quite. 

I cried during the first two episodes. The character development is just phenomenal. You really feel for Jing Jing’s character even though you’ve only seen her character for an hour. There are little moments throughout the drama that made me tear up too, like when the girls were celebrating Nan Jia jie’s 36th birthday and I got emotional over how close their bond is, or moments when the girls reflected on their aging parents and how we often take our parents for granted. 

Plot pacing and structure

The plot is tight and well-paced, and each girl’s storyline is interwoven well. Sometimes they’d cut between simultaneous scenes between the girls to compare and contrast what they’re each going through. For instance, when Xu Yan is having an argument with her boyfriend, the drama will also cut and flip back and forth to Qiao Xi Chen going through problems at her workplace. When Xu Yan makes up with her boyfriend, the drama cuts to QXC and Nan Jia being romantically pursued by Jian Yi Fan and Ou Yang. It’s interesting to see how their lives mirror and differ from each other. 

Because the storylines between the girls are so interwoven and keep flipping back and forth between each other, it makes it hard to skip scenes because you can’t just skip an entire segment or else you’ll miss something important in all 3 storylines. I can see that this might be a little annoying if you have a preference for one of the girls and want to skip someone else’s storyline. But I actually like seeing all 3 of their stories play out, so I’m not bothered by it. 

Another aspect about the plot’s structure that I appreciate is how they use the mystery behind Jing Jing’s suicide as a throughline for the drama. Up until episode 8ish(?), each episode ends with a question about Jing Jing’s life prior to her suicide and the next episode opens with the girls trying to find an answer or a clue to it. The girls and we the audience learn more and more about Jing Jing with each episode. However, episodes 9 and 10 deviate from the structure a bit and so the drama has recently been less and less focused on Jing Jing’s story, especially after they found out that she had depression. The drama seems to imply that her depression due to the stress of living in Beijing was the main factor that led to her suicide, while the successive unfortunate events that happened on her birthday was the trigger. 

Characters

I like all the main characters in the drama, albeit some a little more than others, which I’ll explain. I think the 3 male love interests are a little too perfect though, and so I guess this slice of life drama is actually a little idealistic after all. 

Xu Yan - My least favourite of the four girls. She’s materialistic, but not as spoiled as I though she would be. But it does annoy me how she keeps picking fights with Shen Zi Chang, when he’s just trying his best. He’s so tolerant and patient with her. He apologizes, they make up, and then the cycle repeats. It’s just a very unhealthy relationship, and I’m tried of seeing them fight and make up. 

EDIT: So, I started writing this review when I had only watched up until episode 9, but now that I’ve finished episode 10, um, wtf?? Xu Yan made a bad choice and got scammed of all her money, her friends try to comfort her, loan her money, and tell her not to repress her emotions like Jing Jing. And then she just lashes out at them saying they have no right to comfort her because they were the ones who caused Jing Jing’s death. Xu Yan starts off blaming QXC for not knowing that Jing Jing had a crush on her boyfriend, and then she blames Nan Jia for being a bad older cousin. She blames both of them for being ignorant of Jing Jing’s depression and only caring about themselves. QXC (rightfully) retorts back than Xu Yan knew all along that Jing Jing had a crush on her boyfriend, and yet Xu Yan never told anyone, so she’s just as guilty as all of them. Honestly, I was sympathetic towards Xu Yan before, but she was just so ungrateful and entitled in that scene. What right does she have pointing fingers and assigning guilt to people? And to weaponize Jing Jing’s death against them? That’s just cruel. The argument between them in that scene at the end of episode 10 just felt so random and out of place. All of a sudden, Xu Yan points out all of these problems she has with QXC and Nan Jia, when all they’ve ever done is pamper her. Also, you can’t blame QXC for dating Lin Rui even if Jing Jing liked him first, and not to mention that QXC wasn’t even aware. QXC might not have even chosen to date Lin Rui if she had known. But it happens all the time between friends where your friend might date someone you like. All’s fair in love and war, and there’s no first come first serve rule when it comes to dating.

Jing Jing - She becomes more complex as you learn more about her. She puts her friends first and is fiercely supportive and protective of them. We get a glimpse of how far she’s willing to go for them she pulls a butcher knife from the kitchen and points it at QXC’s debt collectors in the first episode. Her friends see her as being really open, expressive, and bubbly. She’s the first one they each go to whenever they need help with a problem or want to show off an achievement. But in reality, she’s really secretive. She hides her feelings to keep her friends happy, and when they slowly uncover her secrets, she becomes less and less recognizable to them, as though she’s been living a double life all along. 

At the end of episode 10, Jing Jing is described as the “hole in the tree” that everyone goes to to share their secrets, but they forget that she’s also a person with her own secrets to share, and she’s not just a tree hole to serve others. Can we blame the friends for not paying enough attention to Jing Jing and only using her for emotional support? Yes and no. It’s complicated. We should always do more to try to care for others and to be more attentive to them, but at the same time, it’s impossible to completely know a person. I purposely hide parts of my life from my friends because I don’t want them worrying or judging or commenting. So I would never expect them to be able to figure it out, and neither do I want them to figure it out. I think it’s interesting that the drama is exploring the friends’ self-imposed guilt, but I don’t agree that Xu Yan should be the one to point it out them and to be Jing Jing’s spokesperson. Xu Yan positions herself as Jing Jing’s heroic and righteous advocator, when really Xu Yan is the most problematic person out of the three remaining friends. 

Also, after seeing how the friends interact, they don’t feel narcissistic. Yes, they each readily vent about their problems to each other, but they also ask about the other person. It’s not one-sided. Xu Yan talks about her problems with her boyfriend, but she also asks and cares about what’s happening in QXC’s life and vice versa. Nan Jia is more mature and is busy with her business, but she always takes the time and effort to help her friends. All of their conversations are reciprocal and they are genuinely interested in each other’s lives. So, I don’t think they have a major communication problem or that they don’t care or that they’re ignorant. Which again, makes Xu Yan’s accusations in episode 10 feel even more unfair. 

Ji Nan Jia - Jing Jing’s cousin and also the oldest of the three girls (about a decade older). Sassy, witty, unapologetic, confident. She’s who you’d think of when you imagine a successful, independent, career-driven woman. She’s extremely annoyed by her mother’s nagging to get married. But she herself is trying to figure out whether she actually wants to find someone to settle down with or if she just wants to beat her biological clock and have children while she still can. She’s pursued by Ou Yang, ten years her junior, and he’s absolutely enamoured with her. He seems to be unconditionally in love with her, which is what I meant when I said that the male leads in this drama seem too perfect and idealistic. But I like Ou Yang though. He’s adorable. 

Qiao Xi Chen - The main character of the four main characters. Like Nan Jia, she’s also quite sassy. In some ways, she’s like a younger version of Nan Jia. QXC is also very career driven and competitive. She’s confident and believes in her abilities, but she also gets easily overwhelmed and emotional (like when her stress and nervousness prevented her from being able to give her proposal presentation and she ran out of the room. I’ve definitely felt that way before my committee meetings). QXC is a character you can self-insert as because she represents the everyday employee who struggles with the long commute to work and tries to stand out and make a name for herself in the company. QXC is also extremely paranoid, which is understandable when you’re a woman living alone in the city. I know what it’s like to have to briskly walk home late at night and constantly having to look over your shoulder to make sure no one’s following you, or having to check your hotel room before you change, or having to make it seem like you’re not the only one living in your apartment. QXC is smart, logical, helps people when she can, but is also reasonably selfish when she needs to protect herself, like when her co-workers try to take advantage of her or throw her under the bus. She’s a character everyone can relate to.

She and Jian Yi Fan also make such a cute pairing. I love all their interactions. I love how Jian Yi Fan can’t help but smile when he’s with her, but he tries hard to clamp it down. I love how QXC is aware of her own attraction and easily admits to to Xu Yan that she does have feelings for him instead of beating around the bush. And I especially love the awkward but adorable confession scene in episode 8. Such great banter and play on words (”你是什麼意思” “沒意思” “你對我是不是有意思?”). The drama did a great job of depicting the frustration of trying to guess whether someone likes you when they seem to be sending mixed signals. A lot of dramas that don’t focus on romance seem to do a better job of showing romance than idol dramas that focus on nothing but romance. I grew up with TVB dramas, and in most of them, romance is usually secondary to the main plot, but I always loved the romances in those dramas.

Like Ou Yang, JYF is such an idealistic love interest. He’s so supportive of and attentive to QXC. I haven’t watched too many slice of life dramas, but To Dear Myself and My Best Friend’s Story both had flawed (and sometimes even irredeemable) male love interests. This drama’s rose-coloured glasses definitely reduces the amount of performative angst, but it also makes the drama a little less realistic. The men in Jing Jing’s life aren’t villainized either even when you expected them to be sinister. I think the most antagonistic character is Lin Rui, but even he’s made to be sympathetic. In fact, nearly all the characters in the drama are sympathetic characters because many of the choices they made were forced because of the situation they found themselves in, and what they did was an act of self-preservation. And so, you can’t hate them or blame them. 

Acting and Dialogue

I mean, what’s there to say? The acting and dialogue just sucks you right in. I love it so much. The characters are so animated and charming because of how well the actors delivered their lines. I’m not a mandarin speaker (I’m a cantonese speaker but learned mandarin afterwards), but even I was able to notice the colloquialism and slangs and idiosyncratic ticks in speech that made the dialogue feel so real and alive. The actors had great comedic timing, and when they cried, you could feel how vulnerable they are. 

Lastly, I also like the little “life lessons” they include at the end of the drama where there’d be a voiceover by one of the actresses and they’d muse about life. One of my favourite musings when when they talked about what it means to have a sense of security. For some people, having a sense of security is about having a certain amount of money in your bank account, or having someone waiting for you to come home, but a sense of security isn’t something tangible or physical that you can achieve or possess. It’s a belief. It’s a belief that you’re able to face any problem and that life will go on. It’s a belief that the one that you love will be faithful and supportive. It’s a type of belief that allows you to be confident to face uncertainty. And thus, a sense of security is something that only you can give yourself. I really like that little food for thought because it’s a great reminder to be self-dependent and to not rely on external gratification. Que sera sera. What will be will be. Don’t get too hung over on failure and don’t let stress dominate your life. 

Note: Watching this at the same time as You Are My Glory is extremely humbling. YAMG is an idol drama, and so they make the romance look so easy. Heck, idol dramas make being a protagonist easy. The protagonist is destined to stand out from the crowd. It’s easy to be noticed. It’s easy to cause a change in the status quo. But ROTP is a reminder that we’re all practically nobodies in the big city. It feels impossible to make an impression when there are millions of other people living almost the same life as you are. There’s nothing special about you, and it’s hard to find meaning and purpose. Obviously, the drama shows that even when it feels like you’re trying to swim upstream in a big city, we each have a life worth living. We may feel insignificant in the grand scheme of things, but to our friends and family, we’re their world and they’re ours. I think it was Camus who said that we should find meaning in the face of absurdity. Live in spite of how absurd and meaningless things feels. Anyway, this drama gives you a lot to think about, even though I don’t really like the melodrama they’ve recently added to drag the plot (*cough cough* that explosive argument scene at the end of episode 10 that I keep ranting about). You’d think that a 12-episode drama wouldn’t have filler, and yet here we are. 

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are Weird: Cyber Warfare

The shift back to real space was never something one became used to. It was a feeling as if the bones in your very body were being ripped from your screaming flesh while you remained fully aware of every nerve and pain cluster in your body as it screamed out in mind numbing agony. 

High Marshal Volgrim had performed the process so many times he had stopped counting as he deemed it hardly worth his time and effort; but what he did remember was the pain of each transition. That, was something he could not easily forget nor repress. 

“Navigation, give me location and baring.”

“Coms, I want our command beacon broadcasting for every ship to hone in on as they exit the jump.”

“Weapons, I want the guns unlocked from storage and primed within the next forty seconds”

“Engineering, give me a report on ship wide systems and then raise shields to maximum if permissible.” 

“Radar, give me contacts a full sweep of the surrounding space.”

Though the High Marshall was still rubbing his closed eyes to ease the pain his orders were crisp and direct. He knew his crew would need a moment as well to recover but a moment was all he could spare them. 

“Star charts coming in now; we’re at the edge of the Hyperion System.” 

“Readings confirmation codes from the Shveron, Mulbo, Tapis Dawn, and Kalbrum fleets now emerging alongside us now.”

“Gunnery teams report arc cannons are primed and ready to fire. Javelin batteries are still connecting coolant pipes now. ETA 60 seconds till ready to fire.”

“Engineering reports all systems are showing positive. Shields raised at full power, no fluctuations.”  

Volgrim nodded with every reply as if checking off a list in his head. The rhythm of the checking was interrupted by the noticeable lack of reply from the officer radar station. 

“Radar, report.” 

The commotion on the bridge of his flagship would have deafened lesser captains but to Volgrim he had become so used to it he could even hear a pin drop over the murmur and be able to point which station it had fallen from. So when the radar officer failed to reply once again volgrim opened his eyes and looked directly at the officer. 

“Officer Murbak,” he began with his voice rising, “re-”. 

Officer Murbak held up a hand to the High Marshall and continued observing his display. 

Having trained each of his bridge crew himself, Volgrim knew full well that one of his men would not act in such a disrespectful manner unless it was something urgent. 

Without saying a word Volgrim rose from his command throne and slithered over to the Murbak’s station, his thousand tiny feet across his segmented body pattering against the metal body sounding like rain atop a roof. He leaned over Murbak and took note of the display console. 

“What do you see lad?” 

Murbak’s dozen arms were twisting and adjusting a handful of knobs on the console as the image in the display shifted over and over. 

“Shortly after we came out of our jump we detected several enemy markers.” Murbak replied as he continued to adjust the knobs. 

Volgrim looked over the display. “The radar shows nothing there lad.” 

At this Murbak broke his gaze at the display and turned his worried eyes at his high marshal. “I know what I saw sir. They’re out there.” 

Turning his gaze to the main view port Volgrim took stock of what lay before them. 

The fleet had arrived at the very edge of the Hyperion system, home to a newly founded human colony that had imprisoned traders of Volgrim’s people, known as Vukori, after a dispute at the space port turned violent. Naturally the Vukori government had seen this act as a direct act of aggression and dispatched the High Marshall with several fleets to punish the wayward humans. 

The Hyperion system was surrounded by a thick nebula of gases that were now playing havoc with the sensor equipment. Volgrim trained his eyes on the swirling masses of green and orange clouds as they danced in space.

As the clouds drifted apart for a moment Volgrim’s eyes shot open as he saw for the briefest of moments the reflection of a metallic object in the gas. 

“All hands to battle stations!” Volgrim cried out as he returned to his command throne. 

He had no need for his radar officer to give him a confirmation, his concerns had been vindicated. The humans had hidden their fleet inside the nebula to hide it from sensor readings and no doubt had planned to ambush the Vukori fleets as they entered. 

“Assemble the fleets into a wedge formation. I don’t want us being picked apart one by one.” 

Though he had only seen one ship in the clouds he was sure more were hiding. With his fleets dispersed from their jump exit they could easily be picked apart one by one, but by concentrating them they would be able to fully bring their might to bear. 

As if sensing their plan had been discovered the first of the human ships began emerging from the nebula. Their hulls were of a steel grey that reflected the green and oranges of the clouds around them like a patchwork of modern art and their frames resembled sea faring vessels of their primitive years without the sails of fabric and masts. 

“Give me a count Mr. Murbak.” Volgrim called out as he watched each new enemy vessel pull forward. 

“I count five battleship class, 7 cruiser class, and fourteen destroyers.”

“Keep an eye on that nebula Mr. Murbk, there could be more hiding in there.” “Aye, aye!” 

Volgrim cradled his head between his arms and pondered the situation. The human fleet was roughly half their total fleet size but also was at the disadvantage of lacking heavy ships compared to the Vukori fleet. Yet Volgrim was well aware that humans had an annoying habit for implementing unconventional tactics when outnumbered that often saw them win the day or at the very least inflict serious casualties against their foe. This was the first step of the war with the humans and Volgrim was not sure if he could replace any losses he sustained so early on in the campaign. 

“Mr. Huckval,” Volgrim called to the communications officer, “ order all ships to keep their distance from the human vessels and turn their scanners to maximum range. I want them reading everything within a 300km distance from us.” He leaned over and gave a hard gaze at Huckval. “If so much as a asteroid the size of a finger floats this way I want to know of it.” 

Huckval relayed the high marshalls orders fleet wide as the Vukori fleets finished arranging themselves into formation. 

“High Marshall, we are receiving a communication.” 

“From which fleet?” 

Huckval shook his head. “It’s not from one of ours but from the human fleet.”

“Interesting. Put them through, fleet wide.” 

After a brief moment a picture appeared on the view port and for the first time Volgrim saw his enemy; or so he thought. 

The image on the screen was constantly shifting and only ever holding image steady for a few moments before shifting again into a blizzard of static. When the image was holding steady Volgrim could barely make out the image of a human figure in a deep blue uniform with short cropped hair. 

“Mr. Huckval, what is the meaning of this?” 

The comms officer looked embarrassed and hurried back to his station just as the human figure began to speak. 

“THIS IS ADMIRAL PYRE OF THE 3RD FLEET.” The voice was drowning and at such volume that it hurt the ears of everyone on the command deck. 

“Cease your shouting human!” cried Volgrim as he covered his ears in pain. 

Admiral Pyre looked confused when the image steady and looked off screen as if talking to someone. 

“WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” The admiral continued. “ I AM TALKING NORMALLY.” 

Volgrim brought his hands down hard on the arms of his command throne. “You are shouting at the top of your tiny lungs!” 

Pyre looked off screen once again before turning back. “THERE MUST BE A PROBLEM WITH THE TRANSMISSION BEING SO CLOSE TO THE NEBULA.” Pyre said, taking a apologetic look. “I AM TERRIBLY SORRY FOR ANY INCONVENIENCE CAUSED.” 

Volgrim turned to Huckval and motioned to end the transmission with a wave of his hand. The picture on the view port was instantly cut and replaced again by the view of open space and the human fleet. 

The crew were slowly recovering from the audio assault on their ears. Volgrim was turning to Huckval when the engineering officers voice rose up in alarm. 

“High Marshall! We are reading arc cannons charging up!” 

Volgrim spun around. “I gave no such order!” he barked. “Whose ship is daring to defy me?!” 

The engineering officer looked scared at his commanders anger but continued his report. “Shveron and Mulbo fleets are showing increasing energy readings.” 

Volgrim was confused at this. Both fleets were commanded by commanders he had served with on numerous campaigns and neither had ever shown such defiance before. 

“Confirm readings and contact-”

The engineering officer cut him off. “We are now reading energy spikes from the Tapis Dawn and Kalbrum fleets as well!” 

“Something is wrong.” 

Volgrim put his thoughts to words as the new report came in. “Mr. Huckval, get me the commanders of all fleets on the line this instant. We need to find out what the gulgut is going on!” 

Huckval turned to his console and began dialing in when suddenly a spark of energy discharged from his station. Huckval was able to jump back in the nick of time but the energy discharge fried the console entirely. 

“Repair crew to the bridge!” Huckval called out. 

Things were spinning out of control one after another and all Volgrim could do was watch. 

All of a sudden a red warning lights began flashing across the bridge and the radar officer pushed people aside to get to Volgrim.

“Sir! Three ships of fleet Shveron just exploded!”

“WHAT?!”

Hammering in keys into his command throne Volgrim brought up the display of his fleet and indeed saw that three ships were gone.

Volgrim roared and grabbed Murbak by the neck and hoisted him into the air. 

“Why wasn’t I told the enemy started firing on us!?”

Murbak was shaking and clawing at his neck. 

“The humans didn’t fire! They didn’t fire!!”

Four more ship icons flared red and vanished from the screen before Volgrim’s eyes. “Status report, now!” 

Murbak scrambled back to his console and keyed in several commands. 

“The ships were destroyed from internal explosions, not enemy weapons fire.” 

“Explain!” The confusion was only adding to his continued frustration as Murbak continued reading the scrolling information. 

“From the readings it looks like their arc cannons detonated from a build up of ene-”

“FLEET WIDE BROADCAST!” Volgrim shouts in alarm realizing the danger they were now in. “DISCONNECT POWER SUPPLIES TO ARC CANNONS!”

“Communications are still fired sir, we can’t send a message out.” Huckval called as the repair team arrived and began quickly disassembling the burnt out communications console. 

Volgrim watched as more and more ships in his fleet began blinking out as their arc cannons reached critical mass and detonated. 

Another sound of alarms began ringing out and to his mounting horror Volgrim knew instantly what they were. He turned to his gunnery officer to see him sprinting out of the bridge. 

“Where are you going?!” Volgrim shouted over the blaring alarms. 

“I have to disconnect the cannons or we’re all dead!” the officer shouted over his shoulder as he scuttled as fast as he could out of the bridge to the nearest access hatch and descended to the gunnery decks. 

The flagship was beginning to shudder as the mounting energy in the cannons became increasingly unstable. The energy was meant to be fired outwards in an arc when at critical mass and trigger immense damage to enemy ships. But without firing coordinates the weapons muzzles had remained shut as more and more energy was being poured into each cannon.

Consoles now across the bridge were sparking and exploding as the crew darted back and forth all  the while Volgrim sat upon his throne. 

He knew his gunnery officer would never make it to the gunnery deck in time and so resigned himself to his final moments. 

With vengeful eyes he gazed out at the human armada before him and cursed them with his final breath just as the arc cannons exploded and ripped his ship in two.

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

“Confirm, enemy flagship is down.” 

The human radar officer confirmed the readings once more and nodded. “Half the enemy fleet has been destroyed. The remaining portions appear on the verge of detonation or attempting to flee out of system.”

“Permission to fire?” the gunnery officer inquired, eager to get the final blow in. 

Admiral Pyre shook his head, a faint grin crossing his face. “Save the ammunition for another day.” 

Pyre looked away from the view port and stepped over to a special portion of his bridge. The area was filled with consoles and screens reading off seemingly endless streams of data that the staff present monitored and altered as needed. 

He stepped behind one officer who promptly turned and saluted smartly.  He returned the salute crisply. “At ease.” 

The officer lowered her arm and motioned for her staff to disperse. “I would say your program was a success.” 

To Pyre’s surprise he saw her shake her head. “Hardly. We were only able to implement it through the transmission because of the audio distraction and even then it took nearly twenty five seconds to spread fleet wide. We were lucky that they did not employ any tactical ai programs otherwise they would have detected the cyber spike and contained it.” 

She handed him a large folder. “This is a list of all the features we can improve upon and requisitions for better equipment for future engagements.” 

He took it and skimmed through a few of the front pages before closing it and tucking it under his shoulder. “I shall give it a more detailed inspection later tonight but rest assured you will be provided with everything you need.”

She looked puzzled at this. “But you haven’t even read what I’ve asked for.” 

Pyre nodded and smiled. “True, but I have already seen what you can deliver.” He motioned her to the view screen as dozens of enemy ships exploded in the distance. Bright blue arcs of energy shooting out and ripping metal hulls apart like paper as the remaining ships made futile attempts to jump away. 

“Do you have any idea how many lives of my sailors you saved today?” 

Pyre gazed out at the destruction and kept his smile. “Because of you and your teams work you have delivered a critical blow to our enemies without endangering a single one of them.”

He turned to her and fixed her with a serious stare. “Not. A. Single. One.” He said the words slowly to let that sink in. “They will not only go on to serve the navy in future battles and wars, but also be able to one day go home to their loving families because of your hard work; and I think that is worth more than a few million dollars of computers and cable.” 

She coughed and tapped her leg nervously. 

“It will, uh, be roughly a billion dollars in computers, and, ugh, cables; sir.” 

Pyre looked at her, then back at the destruction she had wrought. 

“I’ll see if we can cancel a battleship production to divert the needed funds once we return to port.” 

Before she could reply Pyre turned and left the bridge to report the victory they had achieved back to the homeworld leaving the human fleet to watch the destruction of their enemies unfold from the stroke of a few keys. 

[tragedy-for-sale]

Beach Days:

The Worst Enemy of the Jedi: Sand

I'm going to write a bunch of stories about the GAR on the beach just straight up vibing. Only good times here folks. Order 66? Don't know her. Palpatine? Doesn't exist. Happiness? WE LOVE HER. This little series is dedicated and based off the WONDERFUL art by @suja-janee !!

◈ ━━━━━━ ◆ ━━━━━━ ◈

"Rex, are we gonna play chicken?" Ahsoka asked, tapping her foot anxiously. The Captain turned to her, he was going to say 'Absolutely not' but he saw Fives and Echo nodding their heads like two puppies behind her he couldn't say no. Rex let out a heavy sigh, he was going to get a lot of water up his nose. "Yes, 'soka, we'll beat Fives and Echo at chicken" he replied, watching all three of them somehow grow more excited.

"You four have fun with that," Cody inturrupted as he approached them, "I came up with the perfect beach vacation plan," he said, patting the messenger bag by his side, "I packed the newest issues of magazines, a giant umbrella, towels, sunscreen, even buckets and shovels so we can have a sand castle contest."

"Indeed, speaking of sun screen, none of you ever put any on" Obi-Wan approached as the shuttle landed. "We're not leaving until everyone has put on some. This vacation will be fun the entire stay if we use proper precaution."

Ahsoka gave a look to Rex, who gave her the same one back. "But come on, Master!" Ahsoka whined, "We just wanna splash in the water. What about Master Skywalker? I doubt he feels your sunscreen theory is worth it."

Anakin came suddenly out of the dark, holding the controls to open the ship's ramp, "Actually, I agree with Obi-Wan. We're not going anywhere until all of you have put some on." He threw a bottle to Ahsoka then crossed his arms.

The four groaned and took turns spraying each other with the sunscreen until the fumes were so strong they could kill someone. "There! Beach time?" Echo asked, dropping the bottle only so Fives could catch it. They thought it'd look cool.

"I mean, we could always just go and bowl instead, you know, away from the sand." Anakin suggested, only for the remote to be snatched from his hand by Obi-Wan.

"Nonsense, yes, you all can go play now, don't let Anakin's gloominess ruin the mood." Obi-Wan smiled as he opened up the ship and they all ran out like dogs, except Cody. Who waited until Obi-Wan had made a snarky comment to Anakin. "I trust you packed the tea?" Obi-Wan asked, pulling the cooler of drinks.

"Yes sir, I packed several kinds, all brewed 24 hours in advance, of course" Cody replied as they walked leisurely to the beach.

"Oh, of course" Obi-Wan smiled as they decided where to set up the umbrella, a place not too far from the shore, but far enough. Obi-Wan had gotten the umbrella in the sand, turning to see Anakin standing ominously in the darkened ship. "Anakin! Now come on!" He called, only to turn to Cody, "Looks like I'm going to be occupied dragging Anakin off the ship, we'll have to catch up later"

Cody nodded as he put on his sunglasses. "Good luck sir, you'll need it" Cody chuckled before opening up his bag and pulling out a magazine.

The other four were already in the water playing chicken. Rex was holding up Ahsoka while she wrestled Fives. Rex glared at Echo, which helped them win. Chicken was very serious business. Echo tried not to break by his Captain's stare, but he felt himself give in and Fives falling off his shoulders.

"Ha! We win!" Rex laughed as Ahsoka fell into the water, giving Rex a high-five. Fives let out a grumble, splashing Ahsoka. Who splashed back and soon enough resulted in a giant water splashing fight.

Rex left them to their madness. He wasn't getting more water up his nose today. He saw his brother sitting alone under his umbrella and decided to check up on him. Cody was enjoying himself but that was quickly ruining by his soaking brother plopping down next to him.

"Hey bro!" Rex smiled, taking Cody's hat to wear, "Watcha reading?" He asked, flicking some water on Cody's face. Cody started to look up from his magazine very slowly, a clear look of grumpyiness displayed. But he didn't speak because his attention was caught by Echo and Fives, who were now chasing each other.

"FIVES! It's MY watermelon!!" Echo screamed, who was chasing his brother so desperately, "You said I could have it!!" He continued to scream.

"You'll never catch me alive copper!!" Fives screamed in turn, he was hugging the watermelon like it was his child. He then proceeded to laugh manically as he ran.

Rex and Cody continued to watch the two long enough to not notice Ahsoka pulling up her own beach towel and umbrella. "So what issue has the one where the 104th modeled in?" Rex changed the subject, he was going to pretend he saw nothing.

"Issue #36, Wolffe's segment talks about hair advice, you should read it" Cody replied, his eyes locked on his magazine. Rex opened up Cody's messenger bag and pulled out the issue, he couldn't wait to find something to mock Wolffe with. Cody then pulled Rex's hat off his head and switched it with a giant sun hat, "You burn too easily for a cap" Rex let out a huff, he did not. But he was too invested in the article to reply.

Ahsoka had been chilling under her umbrella and had watched Fives and Echo the entire time. Fives had ripped Echo's watermelon out of his hands and they were chasing each other until Jesse stopped them, taking the watermelon. With the rest of the boys arriving, it was sure to get crowded soon.

Jesse had taken the watermelon and cut it into slices for everyone. Fives had scarfed down his piece then proceeded to rip Echo's half eaten slice right out of hands, causing the clone to burst into tears.

"Oh, now where did that Anakin get to?" Obi-Wan asked. Ahsoka looked up to see one of her masters take a drink of, whatever. "I'd only gone to get a martini and when I returned, I discovered I'd lost Anakin." Obi-Wan explained. Ahsoka let out a snicker.

"I'm sure he couldn't have gone far" Ahsoka stated as she looked around, but all she saw was Cody showing Rex something he wanted in a magazine, "I don't see him" Ahsoka continued to scan the beach but when she spotted Anakin she let out a giant laugh. "Master look!" She pointed with a giddy smile.

"Oh, sweet maker, that boy" Obi-Wan mumbled, talking a long slow sip of his drink, "Anakin! Get out of the tree!" He screamed walking towards him, "Get out of the blasted tree!" He called as he gave the tree a kick.

Anakin shook the tree, "Never! You'll never get me down! Neverrrrr!!!!" He cried, shaking the tree more and more. Ahsoka had followed Obi-Wan and they watched Anakin in silent awe at just how dramatic he was.

"Pshhh, he's so dramatic" Ahsoka mumbled as she watched Anakin clinging to the tree.

"Yes, a trait that suits him well," Obi-Wan sighed as he watched the shaking tree and blocked out Anakin's continuous screaming. "Ahsoka, would you please gather the men? I have an idea" Obi-Wan smirked as he put his drink in the sand.

Ahsoka nodded, "FIVES! Stop making your brother cry and go help Obi-Wan! Echo, go help and I'll buy you a whole watermelon! Cody! Rex! We're going shaking for coconuts! Come on! Jesse! Grab the boys!" Ahsoka screamed, running around the beach.

When she reached the tree again, they were all watching Anakin. "Alright Anakin, this is your last chance to come down from the poor tree!" Obi-Wan called, but upon Anakin shaking his head and continued screaming, Obi-Wan sighed, "Very well. Men, let's get a coconut." Obi-Wan smiled

All at once they started shaking the tree. Anakin's grip grew tighter, "Whoa! Stop!" Anakin screamed, but they only shook harder, "No! No! Stop! I'm gonna faaAAALLLL!" Anakin cried as he went falling down to the sand, landing on Rex.

Anakin sent Rex falling into the sand, hitting his head. Rex looked up to Anakin, who was now sitting on him like he'd die if he didn't. Boy, he was fat. "You're not a coconut." Rex mumbled as his head fell back into the sand and he closed his eyes in response to the pain. Ahsoka ran and grabbed a pair of sunglasses, she then put them on Rex's face and tilted the hat to cover his face more.

"He's resting."

[everythingloveandanimated]

Happy 10th Anniversary to Tangled!

I saw this movie for the first time in theaters when it came out. I went with my sister, our aunt and a friend of our aunt’s. It was the FIRST TIME the four of us did something like that together.

I was dying in my seat during the “stuffing Flynn in the closet” segment. I Laughed out loud when Flynn/Eugene danced and sang “I have dreams like you, no really. Just much less touchy-feely.”

The Kingdom song when Rapunzel starts dancing to when the song ends became an instant favorite of mine.

I cried when Eugene came back, and I think when Rapunzel gets hugged by her parents.

At the end of the credits we left. I was halfway out of the screen room when I said “I wanna see that again!” I have NEVER said that after the end of a movie!

Tangled holds a special place in my memories. Thank you to all the cast, crew, animators, song writers, and everyone who played a part in making that movie.

[dreamsister81]

In Memoriam: Jeff Buckley By Dennis

It was one of those nights that makes a difference in your life, when you don't give a damn anymore what the rest of the world thinks, as long as they're thinking it about you, and not just the image you project out of fear, or a desire to be liked.

Our subway stop brought us directly beneath the church, St. Ann's of the Holy Trinity. It was hot. I was sweating, and my head pounded, reminding me how much I loved and missed my air conditioner. When we turned the corner, toward the front doors of the church, we were met with a beautiful spring-like breeze, and a small camp of mourners. It looked the way old churches in even older cities are supposed to look; black and imposing against a bright summer sky, making you feel like you owe somebody, somewhere, something . . . maybe praise. Who knows?

We waited and talked amongst ourselves, sharing cookies and memories. We spotted the black shoes, black pants, black belt, shirt, sunglasses, hair and goatee running across the street, toward the church's side entrance, and immediately knew Nathan Larson, of Shudder to Think. He looked less happy than the building crowd, and obviously had greater reason. He was a friend.

When the doors opened, we worked our way into the line of "Jeff Buckley: Eternal Life Mailing List" members, who were unfairly ushered in before those who'd waited longer, but lacked a modem. But we'd waited, and we've loved long enough to mourn, and two among our group of four were list members. So we entered. A disco ball hung from the arched ceiling, and a movie screen showed a still of Jeff beside a mirror. Kazoo's, guitar picks, and programs were handed out at the door. We later learned the guitar picks were the remnants of a cancelled order for the next tour, and the kazoo's . . . well, read on.

We found our seats and upon them fans, like the kind a geisha would use, or perhaps parishioners longing for air conditioning. We waited with the plaintive cries of Reverend Al Green on the sound system to console us. On the stage, sat the urn holding Jeff's ashes, beside his signature Fender Telecaster.

Fr. Lewis Marshall spoke of Jeff, of his love for the church, and the church's love for him. He spoke words of consolation, but he never tried to explain Jeff's death away. He said no belief system he knows of "could make sense of such a senseless" event. He asked that we make the world a better place through the energy and love and creativity that is, not was Jeff Buckley.

"Not all of me is dust, Within my song,

safe from the worm, my spirit will survive."

-Aleksander Pushkin

Jeff's aunt, Peggy Hagberg, was the first of many to tell us about Scotty, and that she'd only ever called him Jeff once. She read a poem she'd written for his 30th birthday, recalling the intrusion he was when born, "that baby my sister was having." But he soon became plaything, then playmate, then friend. She lamented the loss of her special child to the dual person he'd become in manhood and fame. She read from her paper the words "My Scotty . . ." and nodding toward the still on the movie screen, she weeped "that Jeff" and quietly walked away.

His brother Corey Moorehead, and sister Ann-Marie Huck, the children of the stepfather who raised him (Ron Moorehead,) approached the microphone next. Ann-Marie told us about Jeff's life growing up, about his meeting with Tim when he was 8 or 9, about how he never put his guitar down after that meeting. She told us about Tim's overdose, and how it affected "Scotty", and about the time they went to see "Rose", and how upset "Scotty" was when she overdosed . . . they had to leave the theater. She said "Scotty" always held a dark portion of himself away, a part she could never touch. She cried as she spoke to him, saying she hoped he'd finally found peace in his father's arms.

Corey read a poem Jeff had written sometime in the last five years. I believe it was called "Momma dogga". It was a beautifully written, funny poem from a child's perspective, on the love of a dog and a boy, and it lightened the mood. The poem urged us all to learn to live dog-a way. To hear it, you'd really understand.

Michael Tighe and Parker Kindred (guitar and drums from Jeff's band) walked on stage with Nathan Larson (guitar/vocals, of Shudder to Think, Mind Science of the Mind) and Joan Wasser (violin, of the Dambuilders, and Mind Science of the Mind.) They played a beautiful instrumental piece, with breathtaking violin from Jeff's former lover, and deeply emotional playing from his friends. They walked off as silently as they'd walked on.

Michael Tighe was scheduled to speak next, but the church's creative director took his place and told us how much Jeff loved everyone and wanted us all to love him. She spoke of the way he made us all feel we were special because we all had a place in his heart. She read a poem from Lou Reed, as a way to tell us Jeff was our mirror, to remind us how beautiful we really are, when we forget.

There was a presentation from Columbia Records, showing interview segments, and video clips, revealing live footage, and tales of the recording of Grace.

Rebecca Moore, a longtime friend and lover sat at the piano, and admitted she was shaken by the video presentation. She related the tale of Jeff and her cat, how Jeff made it his mission to make this cat love him. She came home one night to find Jeff with his hands around the cat's neck screaming "Love me!" She said that was the way Jeff wanted the world. She performed, and sang a terribly emotional song, and walked off as quietly as all the others.

Jeff's mother followed, and let his cousin, Kelly Hagberg, speak first. She told us about Jeff's sense of humor, and his undying need to create music. He would imitate every character in Saturday Night Fever, do Steve Martin's "Wild and crazy guy" better than Steve Martin, play Nintendo with her little brother, or a song on a Fisher Price guitar. Jeff believed we should make music every chance we got, so we played "You Are My Sunshine" on the kazoo's we were handed at the door. Once for practice, once quietly, and once to blow the roof off.

His mother, Mary Guibert, was amazing; composed and eloquent. She was a natural speaker who drew from us both the sadness and jubilation we'd felt throughout the night. She helped us see the reality in his death that none of us could imagine merely as fans, but she comforted us as well. She loves her son, and she loves us because we do too. Mary told us about the program, that the note from Jeff was one she'd found years ago, that she kept on her bulletin board for inspiration. And she told us about the keys, and the guitar pick strewn about the note. They were the items found in his pockets when his body surfaced, on June 4th.

She urged us to make a Golden Promise.

"A Golden Promise is one that must never be broken. It is made in one's heart to another heart that's just departed this life."

She asked us to "commit 'random acts of kindness and senseless acts of beauty' ... demonstrate the courage to follow your bliss . . . maybe, just maybe, together we'll be able to repair the damage done to this lowly little world by the untimely passing of this gentle minstrel."

We were shown a full concert from the Metro in Chicago, from 1995; nearly 2 hours long. There were pictures on a wall in the backroom, and a poem by Jeff. Michael Tighe, Parker Kindred, Mary Guibert, and Jeff's siblings mingled in the room, graciously taking time with well-meaning fans.

We left that night, feeling like we had a higher purpose, that things did matter. We left with songs in our hearts, and on our lips. We played our kazoo's on the streets of New York as Mary had asked us too.

Life will not go on as it always had. Life will go on as it always should have.

with love from the delphil

-dennis via mojopin.org

[semiotexte]

As the years passed, I learned to think of dreams as an integral part of life. There are dreams that, because of their sensory intensity, their realism or precisely their lack of realism, deserve to be introduced into autobiography, just as much as events that were actually lived through. Life begins and ends in the unconscious; the actions we carry out while fully lucid are only little islands in an archipelago of dreams. No existence can be completely rendered in its happiness or its madness without taking into account oneiric experiences. It’s Calderón de la Barca’s maxim reversed: it’s not a matter of thinking that life is a dream, but rather of realizing that dreams are also a form of life. It is just as strange to think, like the Egyptians, that dreams are cosmic channels through which the souls of ancestors pass in order to communicate with us, as to claim, as some of the neurosciences do, that dreams are a “cut-and-paste” of elements experienced by the brain during waking life, elements that return in the dream’s REM phase, while our eyes move beneath our eyelids, as if they were watching. Closed and sleeping, eyes continue to see. Therefore, it is more appropriate to say that the human psyche never stops creating and dealing with reality, sometimes in dreams, sometimes in waking life.

Whereas over the course of the past few months my waking life has been, to use the euphemistic Catalan expression, “good, so long as we don’t go into details,” my oneiric life has had the power of a novel by Ursula K. Le Guin. During one of my recent dreams, I was talking with the artist Dominique González-Foerster about my problem of geographic dislocation: after years of a nomadic life, it is hard for me to decide on a place to live in the world. While we were having this conversation, we were watching the planets spin slowly in their orbits, as if we were two giant children and the solar system were a Calder mobile. I was explaining to her that, for now, in order to avoid the conflict that the decision entailed, I had rented an apartment on each planet, but that I didn’t spend more than a month on any one of them, and that this situation was economically and physically unsustainable. Probably because she is the creator of the Exotourisme project, Dominique in this dream was an expert on extraterrestrial real-estate management. “If I were you, I’d have an apartment on Mars and I’d keep a pied-à-terre on Saturn,” she was saying, showing a great deal of pragmatism, “but I’d get rid of the Uranus apartment. It’s much too far away.”

Awake, I don’t know much about astronomy; I don’t have the slightest idea of the positions or distances of the different planets in the solar system. But I consulted the Wikipedia page on Uranus: it is in fact one of the most distant planets from Earth. Only Neptune, Pluto, and the dwarf planets Haumea, Makemake, and Eris are farther away. I read that Uranus was the first planet discovered with the help of a telescope, eight years before the French Revolution. With the help of a lens he himself had made, the astronomer and musician William Herschel observed it one night in March in a clear sky, from the garden of his house at 19 New King Street, in the city of Bath. Since he didn’t yet know if it was a huge star or a tailless comet, they say that Herschel called it “Georgium Sidus,” the Georgian Star, to console King George III for the loss of the British colonies in America: England had lost a continent, but the King had gained a planet. Thanks to Uranus, Herschel was able to live on a generous royal pension of two hundred pounds a year. Because of Uranus, he abandoned both music and the city of Bath, where he was a chapel organist and director of public concerts, and settled in Windsor so that the King could be sure of his new conquest by observing it through a telescope. Because of Uranus, they say, Herschel went mad, and spent the rest of his life building the largest telescope of the eighteenth century, which the English called “the monster.” Because of Uranus, they say, Herschel never played the oboe again. He died at the age of eighty-four: the number of years it takes for Uranus to go around the sun. They say that the tube of his telescope was so wide that the family used it as a dining hall at his funeral.

Uranus is what astrophysicists call a “gas giant.” Made up of ice, methane, and ammonia, it is the coldest planet in the solar system, with winds that can exceed nine hundred kilometers per hour. In short, the living conditions are not especially suitable. So Dominique was right: I should leave the Uranus apartment.

But dream functions like a virus. From that night forward, while I’m awake, the sensation of having an apartment on Uranus increases, and I am more and more convinced that the place I should live is over there.

For the Greeks, as for me in this dream, Uranus was the solid roof of the world, the limit of the celestial vault. Uranus was regarded as the house of the gods in many Greek invocation rituals. In mythology, Uranus is the son that Gaia, the Earth, conceived alone, without insemination or coition. Greek mythology is at once a kind of retro sci-fi story anticipating in a do-it-yourself way the technologies of reproduction and bodily transformation that will appear throughout the twentieth and twenty-first centuries; and at the same time a kitschy TV series in which the characters give themselves over to an unimaginable number of relationships outside the law. Thus Gaia married her son Uranus, a Titan often represented in the middle of a cloud of stars, like a sort of Tom of Finland dancing with other muscle-bound guys in a techno club on Mount Olympus. From the incestuous and ultimately not very heterosexual relationships between heaven and earth, the first generation of Titans were born, including Oceanus (Water), Chronos (Time), and Mnemosyne (Memory) … Uranus was both the son of the Earth and the father of all the others. We don’t quite know what Uranus’s problem was, but the truth is that he was not a good father: either he forced his children to remain in Gaia’s womb, or he threw them into Tartarus as soon as they were born. So Gaia convinced one of her children to carry out a contraceptive operation. You can see in the Palazzo Vecchio in Florence the representation that Giorgio Vasari made in the sixteenth century of Chronos castrating his father Uranus with a scythe. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, emerged from Uranus’s amputated genital organs … which could imply that love comes from the disjunction of the body’s genital organs, from the displacement and externalization of genital force.

This form of nonheterosexual conception, cited in Plato’s Symposium, was the inspiration for the German lawyer Karl Heinrich Ulrichs to come up with the word Uranian [Urning] in 1864 to designate what he called relations of the “third sex.” In order to explain men’s attraction to other men, Ulrichs, after Plato, cut subjectivity in half, separated the soul from the body, and imagined a combination of souls and bodies that authorized him to reclaim dignity for those who loved against the law. The segmentation of soul and body reproduces in the domain of experience the binary epistemology of sexual difference: there are only two options. Uranians are not, Ulrich writes, sick or criminal, but feminine souls enclosed in masculine bodies attracted to masculine souls.

This is not a bad idea to legitimize a form of love that, at the time, could get you hanged in England or in Prussia, and that, today, remains illegal in seventy-four countries and is subject to the death penalty in thirteen, including Nigeria, Pakistan, Iran, and Qatar; a form of love that constitutes a common motive for violence in family, society, and police in most Western democracies.

Ulrichs does not make this statement as a lawyer or scientist: he is speaking in the first person. He does not say “there are Uranians,” but “I am a Uranian.” He asserts this, in Latin, on August 18, 1867, after having been condemned to prison and after his books have been banned by an assembly of five hundred jurists, members of the German Parliament, and a Bavarian prince—an ideal audience for such confessions. Until then, Ulrichs had hidden behind the pseudonym “Numa Numantius.” But from that day on, he speaks in his own name, he dares to taint the name of his father. In his diary, Ulrichs confesses he was terrified, and that, just before walking onto the stage of the Grand Hall of the Odeon Theater in Munich, he had been thinking about running away, never to return. But he says he suddenly remembered the words of the Swiss writer Heinrich Hössli, who a few years before had defended sodomites (though not, however, speaking in his own name): “Two ways lie before me,” Hössli wrote, “to write this book and expose myself to persecution, or not to write it and be full of guilt until the day I am buried. Of course I have encountered the temptation to stop writing … But before my eyes appeared the images of the persecuted and the wretched prospect of such children who have not yet been born, and I thought of the unhappy mothers at their cradles, rocking their cursed yet innocent children! And then I saw our judges with their eyes blindfolded. Finally, I imagined my gravedigger slipping the cover of my coffin over my cold face. Then, before I submitted, the imperious desire to stand up and defend the oppressed truth possessed me … And so I continued to write with my eyes resolutely averted from those who have worked for my destruction. I do not have to choose between remaining silent or speaking. I say to myself: speak or be judged!”

Ulrichs writes in his journal that the judges and Parliamentarians seated in Munich’s Odeon Hall cried out, as they listened to his speech, like an angry crowd: End the meeting! End the meeting! But he also notes that one or two voices were raised to say: Let him continue! In the midst of a chaotic tumult, the President left the theater, but some Parliamentarians remained. Ulrichs’s voice trembled. They listened.

But what does it mean to speak for those who have been refused access to reason and knowledge, for us who have been regarded as mentally ill? With what voice can we speak? Can the jaguar or the cyborg lend us their voices? To speak is to invent the language of the crossing, to project one’s voice into an interstellar expedition: to translate our difference into the language of the norm; while we continue, in secret, to practice a strange lingo that the law does not understand.

So Ulrichs was the first European citizen to declare publicly that he wanted to have an apartment on Uranus. He was the first mentally ill person, the first sexual criminal to stand up and denounce the categories that labeled him as sexually and criminally diseased.

He did not say, “I am not a sodomite.” On the contrary, he defended the right to practice sodomy between men, calling for a reorganization of the systems of signs, for a change of the political rituals that defined the social recognition of a body as healthy or sick, legal or illegal. He invented a new language and a new scene of enunciation. In each of Ulrichs’s words addressed from Uranus to the Munich jurists resounds the violence generated by the dualist epistemology of the West. The entire universe cut in half and solely in half. Everything is heads or tails in this system of knowledge. We are human or animal. Man or woman. Living or dead. We are the colonizer or the colonized. Living organism or machine. We have been divided by the norm. Cut in half and forced to remain on one side or the other of the rift. What we call “subjectivity” is only the scar that, over the multiplicity of all that we could have been, covers the wound of this fracture. It is over this scar that property, family, and inheritance were founded. Over this scar, names are written and sexual identities asserted.

On May 6, 1868, Karl Maria Kertbeny, an activist and defender of the rights of sexual minorities, sent a handwritten letter to Ulrichs in which for the first time he used the word homosexual to refer to what his friend called “Uranians.” Against the antisodomy law promulgated in Prussia, Kertbeny defended the idea that sexual practices between people of the same sex were as “natural” as the practices of those he calls—also for the first time—“heterosexuals.” For Kertbeny, homosexuality and heterosexuality were just two natural ways of loving. For medical jurisprudence at the end of the nineteenth century, however, homosexuality would be reclassified as a disease, a deviation, and a crime.

I am not speaking of history here. I am speaking to you of your lives, of mine, of today. While the notion of Uranianism has gone somewhat astray in the archives of literature, Kertbeny’s concepts would become authentic biopolitical techniques of dealing with sexuality and reproduction over the course of the twentieth century, to such an extent that most of you continue to use them to refer to your own identity, as if they were descriptive categories. Homosexuality would remain listed until 1975 in Western psychiatric manuals as a sexual disease. This remains a central notion, not only in the discourse of clinical psychology, but also in the political languages of Western democracies.

When the notion of homosexuality disappeared from psychiatric manuals, the notions of intersexuality and transsexuality appear as new pathologies for which medicine, pharmacology, and law suggest remedies. Each body born in a hospital in the West is examined and subjected to the protocols of evaluation of gender normality invented in the fifties in the United States by the doctors John Money and John and Joan Hampson: if the baby’s body does not comply with the visual criteria of sexual difference, it will be submitted to a battery of operations of “sexual reassignment.” In the same way, with a few minor exceptions, neither scientific discourse nor the law in most Western democracies recognizes the possibility of inscribing a body as a member of human society unless it is assigned either masculine or feminine gender. Transsexuality and intersexuality are described as psychosomatic pathologies, and not as the symptoms of the inadequacy of the politico-visual system of sexual differentiation when faced with the complexity of life.

How can you, how can we, organize an entire system of visibility, representation, right of self-determination, and political recognition if we follow such categories? Do you really believe you are male or female, that we are homosexual or heterosexual, intersexed or transsexual? Do these distinctions worry you? Do you trust them? Does the very meaning of your human identity depend on them? If you feel your throat constricting when you hear one of these words, do not silence it. It’s the multiplicity of the cosmos that is trying to pierce through your chest, as if it were the tube of a Herschel telescope.

Let me tell you that homosexuality and heterosexuality do not exist outside of a dualistic, hierarchical epistemology that aims at preserving the domination of the paterfamilias over the reproduction of life. Homosexuality and heterosexuality, intersexuality and transsexuality do not exist outside of a colonial, capitalist epistemology, which privileges the sexual practices of reproduction as a strategy for managing the population and the reproduction of labor, but also the reproduction of the population of consumers. It is capital, not life, that is being reproduced. These categories are the map imposed by authority, not the territory of life. But if homosexuality and heterosexuality, intersexuality and transsexuality, do not exist, then who are we? How do we love? Imagine it.

Then, I remember my dream and I understand that my trans condition is a new form of Uranism. I am not a man and I am not a woman and I am not heterosexual I am not homosexual I am not bisexual. I am a dissident of the sex-gender system. I am the multiplicity of the cosmos trapped in a binary political and epistemological system, shouting in front of you. I am a Uranian confined inside the limits of techno-scientific capitalism.

Like Ulrichs, I am bringing no news from the margins; instead, I bring you a piece of horizon. I come with news of Uranus, which is neither the realm of God nor the sewer. Quite the contrary. I was assigned a female sex at birth. They said I was lesbian. I decided to self-administer regular doses of testosterone. I never thought I was a man. I never thought I was a woman. I was several. I didn’t think of myself as transsexual. I wanted to experiment with testosterone. I love its viscosity, the unpredictability of the changes it causes, the intensity of the emotions it provokes forty-eight hours after taking it. And, if the injections are regular, its ability to undo your identity, to make organic layers of the body emerge that otherwise would have remained invisible. Here as everywhere, what matters is the measure: the dosage, the rhythm of injections, the order of them, the cadence. I wanted to become unrecognizable. I wasn’t asking medical institutions for testosterone as hormone therapy to cure “gender dysphoria.” I wanted to function with testosterone, to experience the intensity of my desire through it, to multiply my faces by metamorphosing my subjectivity, creating a body that was a revolutionary machine. I undid the mask of femininity that society had plastered onto my face until my identity documents became ridiculous, obsolete. Then, with no way out, I agreed to identify myself as a transsexual, as a “mentally ill person,” so that the medico-legal system would acknowledge me as a living human body. I paid with my body for the name I bear.

By making the decision to construct my subjectivity with testosterone, the way the shaman constructs his with plants, I take on the negativity of my time, a negativity I am forced to represent and against which I can fight only from this paradoxical incarnation, which is to be a trans man in the twenty-first century, a feminist bearing the name of a man in the #MeToo movement, an atheist of the hetero-patriarchal system turned into a consumer of the pharmacopornographic industry. My existence as a trans man constitutes at once the acme of the sexual ancien régime and the beginning of its collapse, the climax of its normative progression and the signal of a proliferation still to come.

I have come to talk to you—to you and to the dead, or rather, to those who live as if they were already dead—but I have come especially to talk to the cursed, innocent children who are yet to be born. Uranians are the survivors of a systematic, political attempt at infanticide: we have survived the attempt to kill in us, while we were not yet adults, and while we could not defend ourselves, the radical multiplicity of life and the desire to change the names of all things. Are you dead? Will they be born tomorrow? I congratulate you, belatedly or in advance.

I bring you news of the crossing, which is the realm of neither God nor the sewer. Quite the contrary. Do not be afraid, do not be excited, I have not come to explain anything morbid. I have not come to tell you what a transsexual is, or how to change your sex, or at what precise instant a transition is good or bad. Because none of that would be true, no truer than the ray of afternoon sun falling on a certain spot on the planet and changing according to the place from which it is seen. No truer than that the slow orbit described by Uranus as it revolves above the Earth is yellow. I cannot tell you everything that goes on when you take testosterone, or what that does in your body. Take the trouble to administer the necessary doses of knowledge to yourself, as many as your taste for risk allows you.

I have not come for that. As my indigenous Chilean mother Pedro Lemebel said, I do not know why I come, but I am here. In this Uranian apartment that overlooks the gardens of Athens. And I’ll stay a while. At the crossroads. Because intersection is the only place that exists. There are no opposite shores. We are always at the crossing of paths. And it is from this crossroad that I address you, like the monster who has learned the language of humans.

I no longer need, like Ulrichs, to assert that I am a masculine soul enclosed in a woman’s body. I have no soul and no body. I have an apartment on Uranus, which certainly places me far from most earthlings, but not so far that you can’t come see me. Even if only in dream …

[entertainment-21]

Building a custom lightsaber at Star Wars Land mixes a medication manage a strict encounter

Some time before the recreation center opened, I'd read about Savi's Workshop, an expensive intuitive exhibition where a little gathering of visitors pick the pieces of their own lightsaber, amass them, embed a kyber precious stone, and light the light in a victorious, practically strict second. Yet, as I meandered the recreation center during a press day in a matter of seconds before the authority opening, I couldn't really recognize a major custom lightsaber store at Zia Sabers, not to mention any signs.

With my guide covered in my knapsack, I asked cast individuals — playing local people of the planet Batuu — for the quickest course to Savi's. They gave me odd looks. For what reason would I need to go there? In the end I ended up outside of a discrete piece shop, set apart by minimal in excess of a grimy blue flag.

One of its workers strolled not to me, but rather next to me and inquired as to whether I understood what kind of business they worked. "Lightsabers!" I cried, similar to a genuine rube. She scowled at me. "Scrap. We bargain in piece. Maybe we have such a piece no doubt about it."

I gestured. And afterward attempted to wink, yet rather I just shut the two eyes. "Indeed," I said, "I might want the piece"

She guided me over to what exactly appeared as though an enormous tool compartment, and pulled out fours chambers, individually. She floated over the unit, as though to disguise the item. Each chamber contained its own assortment of deconstructed lightsaber parts.

I knew these parts from Disney Park's sluggish dribble of information in front of System's Edge opening.

Harmony and Equity: Use rescued pieces of fallen Jedi sanctuaries and slammed starships in Republic-period lightsaber plans that honor the system's previous watchmen.

Force and Control: Initially produced by heroes from the clouded side, objects utilized in this lightsaber style are supposed remainders from the Sith home world and deserted sanctuaries.

Basic Nature: Specialty a lightsaber from unique segments brought into the world from the Power, for example, Brylark trees, Cartusion whale bones or Malevolence teeth.

Insurance and Safeguard: Fuse handle materials bearing baffling themes and engravings that reconnect a lightsaber's wielder with the antiquated wellspring of the Power.

I'd intended to take the Security and Guard course, or perhaps the Basic Nature alternatives, however when my vendor opened the compartment containing what resembled the remaining parts of Luke Skywalker's lightsaber, I went with my gut: Harmony and Equity.

"Brilliant decision," she said. At that point she guided me to the clerk. On the off chance that there's one point wherein the enchantment of System's Edge breaks down, it's the point at which the cast advises you that in Jedis we trust, yet all others should pay cash. I gave over my charge card and felt something in my stomach jerk as $225 left my financial records for eternity.

As though to comfort me, the clerk gave me a ticket and pin, advising me to attach it on my shirt, directly over my heart. This would tell the lead Finder my inclination in piece materials. Also, similar to that, we were back in the exhibition.

Alongside 13 different people who just dropped a quarter terrific, I held up in a little corral close by the workshop. Following a couple of moments, a youthful wiry man in an educated coverall looked from behind the entryway and flagged us.

The Finders, a gathering of scrap authorities who recuperate lost pieces of lightsabers so they may be repurposed for other Jedi, have a style that mixes the beige, quieted tones of 2000s Hole with the free fit layers and fingerless gloves of the 1980s. They projected an energy that varies between self-genuine and blissful.

Our gathering discreetly rearranged into the little workshop, taking spots at a round work table that occupied the whole room. A columnist and videographer from the Los Angeles Times recorded the whole experience.

One of its workers strolled not to me, but rather close to me and inquired as to whether I understood what kind of business they worked. "Lightsabers!" I cried, similar to a genuine rube. She frowned at me. "Scrap. We bargain in piece. Maybe we have such a piece no doubt about it."

I gestured. And afterward attempted to wink, however rather I just shut the two eyes. "Indeed," I said, "I might want the piece"

She guided me over to what in particular appeared as though a huge tool compartment, and pulled out fours chambers, individually. She drifted over the unit, as though to hide the item. Each chamber contained its own assortment of deconstructed lightsaber parts.

I knew these parts from Disney Park's lethargic trickle of data in front of System's Edge opening.

Harmony and Equity: Use rescued pieces of fallen Jedi sanctuaries and smashed starships in Republic-time lightsaber plans that honor the universe's previous gatekeepers.

Force and Control: Initially fashioned by fighters from the clouded side, objects utilized in this lightsaber style are reputed leftovers from the Sith home world and deserted sanctuaries.

Essential Nature: Art a lightsaber from uncommon parts brought into the world from the Power, for example, Brylark trees, Cartusion whale bones or Antipathy teeth.

Insurance and Guard: Fuse handle materials bearing strange themes and engravings that reconnect a lightsaber's wielder with the antiquated wellspring of the Power.

I'd wanted to take the Assurance and Protection course, or possibly the Essential Nature alternatives, yet when my seller opened the compartment containing what resembled the remaining parts of Luke Skywalker's lightsaber, I went with my gut: Harmony and Equity.

"Superb decision," she said. At that point she guided me to the clerk. On the off chance that there's one point where the enchantment of World's Edge breaks down, it's the point at which the cast advises you that in Jedis we trust, yet all others should pay cash. I gave over my charge card and felt something in my stomach jerk as $225 left my financial records for eternity.

As though to comfort me, the clerk gave me a ticket and pin, advising me to append it on my shirt, directly over my heart. This would tell the lead Finder my inclination in piece materials. Also, similar to that, we were back in the exhibition.

Alongside 13 different people who just dropped a quarter amazing, I held up in a little corral close by the workshop. Following a couple of moments, a youthful wiry man in an aesthetic coverall looked from behind the entryway and flagged us.

The Finders, a gathering of scrap authorities who recuperate lost pieces of lightsabers so they may be repurposed for other Jedi, have a style that mixes the beige, quieted tones of 2000s Hole with the free fit layers and fingerless gloves of the 1980s. They projected an energy that changes between self-genuine and rapturous.

Our gathering discreetly rearranged into the little workshop, taking spots at a round work table that occupied the whole room. A correspondent and videographer from the Los Angeles Times recorded the whole experience.

The kyber gem is the core of the saber, and this function. Finders strolled the edge of the work table with huge compartments several dozen sparkling precious stones, offered in the film's four most regular saber tones: blue, green, red, and purple. Hot Star Wars fans will know the importance of kyber precious stones, yet of the shade of a Jedi's saber. For people new to this legend, our kin site Vox.com composed a supportive explainer.

Supplement your Kyber Precious stone into the handle of your Lightsaber

This was the most unsafe second in the experience. The lead Finder asked used to close our eyes and picture a kyber gem. The gem would pick us. From a skeptical viewpoint, this is a profoundly senseless, if not ridiculously genuine approach to guzzy up a costly retail trade. So when one of the visitors giggled, I got where they were coming from. Simultaneously, as a child, I fantasized about such an encounter for handfuls, possibly many hours. So when I heard the individual close by me retaliate a cheerful wheeze, I could identify with that, as well.

I shut my eyes, for the most part out of civility. I'd effectively pre-settled on a purple precious stone out of affection for Samuel L. Jackson's exhibition of Mace Windu. In any case, as the Finder strolled our gathering through this dreamlike guided reflection, a picture filled from my adolescence filled my mind.

My closest companion Alex and I in his family storm cellar, beating each other with modest green toy lightsabers we'd gotten for Christmas. Alex hitting me in the neck so hard I guaranteed I'd break his legs. Me hitting Alex so hard, he vowed to take my life for eternity. I was sitting in a dim room with thirteen outsiders pondering how I truly needed to call my cherished companion, and that I needed to go with the green precious stone.

I'd say that this was a happenstance. That something in my cerebrum snapped following a monotonous day absent a lot of food or water. However, I likewise wouldn't get it past Disney's imagineers to devise a content for Savi's workshop that addresses the code to release the sentimentality rising in thirty-something geeks who are terrible at spending plans.

After the determination of kyber precious stones, the Finders strolled from one station to another, setting before every manufacturer a plate of parts dependent on the style they'd chose. Every plate included:

One grip

Four sleeves

Two producers

Two knob covers

Two arrangements of actuation plates and switches

I picked a grip, two sleeves, a producer, a bunch of enactment plates, and a handle cap. It took a piece for our gathering to build the lightsabers, which are heavier and a smidgen more confounded than I expected they'd be (which is a commendation). The interaction felt like the development of a weapon instead of the screwing together of a toy.

When we completed the gathering cycle, the lights diminished. The Finders took another lap around the work tables, this time screwing the finished handles into loads isolating every visitor's development station. After a breath, the lead Finder welcomed us to touch off the lightsabers. The chambers opened, uncovering the finished saber, a lit 31-inch cutting edge jutting from our developments. The shine occupied the room with shading.

[hockeylvr59]

Life Changes Part 8 || Paul Bissonnette

Summary: It’s crazy how quickly your life can change...one minute you’re a struggling personal injury lawyer and the next you’re working for one of the hottest sports podcasts to supplement your income. A new job and the end of a long-term relationship was just the beginning for Leigh Thompson when it comes to life changes. Thankfully she has the one and only Paul Bissonnette at her side to help her handle them all. 

Authors Note: Woooo!!! I finally got past my writer’s block and cranked this part out. I had been stuck on it for the past month and now we can move onto some more fun stuff but I needed to establish some connections and such here first for down the road.  

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no     Word Count: 2,654

Warnings: none really, some alcohol consumption (on Paul’s part)

________

“If nothing ever changed there’d be no butterflies.” 

It was a short drive from the hotel to the Mandalay Bay Events Center. Though Paul’s fingers were entwined with mine during the drive, even his touch couldn’t quell the anxiety I felt as the limo slowed to a halt and the door opened. Paul carefully helped me out of the vehicle and his hand rested low on my back as we started toward the red carpet. The moment we stepped onto the red carpet, however, my anxiety reached its peak and I felt my body freeze in terror. The second Paul saw the look on my face he murmured for Brie to take me inside and that they would meet us there. 

By the time the guys rejoined us, Brie had managed to get a glass of water into my hands and she was assuring me that everything was okay. Deep down I knew that we had breezed by the media so quickly and casually that the odds of anyone talking about us were slim. At the same time, I felt guilty that I couldn’t handle the few minutes of formalities of being Paul’s date without feeling like I was going to have a panic attack. 

Paul’s arm rested along the curve of my lower back when he approached and he rubbed up and down soothingly. 

“Sorry that took so long ladies.” He declared like he wasn’t at all fazed by what had happened. Opening my mouth to try and apologize, I was immediately silenced as he leaned down to whisper in my ear. “Don’t. You’re fine. I get it...the media is a lot.” My second attempt at apologizing was also shut down when he declared out loud that we should head down to the floor and take our seats. 

Though he hadn’t said it, I knew Paul was trying to get me to forget about the red carpet so that it didn’t dampen the rest of the evening. After all, we still had the awards themselves as well as the after-party ahead of us. As we made our way to our seats, Paul occasionally stopped to talk to someone he knew, taking a moment to introduce me as his favorite business manager and date for the evening to each person. The more introductions we got through with no one even noticing my baby bump, the more relaxed I became at the thought that maybe it wasn’t as noticeable as I feared. As Paul had assured me through his texts when he invited me, even if it was noticeable, now that we were mostly away from the media, no one seemed likely to bring it up. 

Settled into my seat next to Paul as the awards started I couldn’t help but feel my natural smile returning, the forced smile I had plastered on in the car slowly leaving my face. The first trophy presented was the Calder and it was no surprise when Elias Pettersson was announced as the winner. He’d had such a stellar season and it was really cool getting to see someone so young experience their first career award knowing that it was likely to be the first of many. 

Next came the Lady Byng award, and I couldn’t help the laugh that spilled out of me when Aleksander Barkov commented on there being more fans from Finland than from Florida present. It was a classic hockey chirp and I peeked over at Paul to find that he was looking over at me, a lazy grin on his face. 

The GM of the year award was given to Don Sweeney from the Bruins and I felt Paul squeeze my hand a little tighter as he talked about his premature sons being his inspiration in his acceptance speech. The moment was heavy for me personally and it was clear that it was for Paul as well by the change in his breathing. As soon as Jason Zucker finished his speech for the King Clancy Award, Paul and Whit moved to slip backstage to prepare for their presentation and Brie slid over a few chairs to sit next to me. 

The Norris was given to Mark Giordano of the Calgary Flames and I smiled as he thanked his wife and kids for always putting a smile on his face after a rough night. Hockey is about family after all and it’s always nice to see more of the behind the scenes people get the credit they deserve. Following the presentation of the Norris, Auston Matthews was named as the cover athlete for NHL20 and I couldn’t help but cringe at the fact that he had sweat through his suit. 

Paul and Whit presented the Masterton Trophy, and knowing the struggles that Paul had with depression toward the end of his own career it seemed fitting. The award was given to Robin Lehner and his quote on the fact that being mentally ill doesn’t mean you’re mentally weak stuck with me because it was something that could apply to all of us at times. I could see Paul almost getting emotional on stage and it made it hard for me to fight back my own hormonal tears. 

The Selke was awarded to O’Reilly and the Jack Adams to Trotz while we waited for the guys to return to their seats, Brie sliding back to her own after sending me a smile and squeezing my hand gently. As Paul settled back in beside me I felt the baby shift, a soft flutter followed by pressure against my bladder. Thankfully the show was more than halfway over and while I wished the baby would shift off of my bladder it wasn’t something I couldn’t handle. 

Any thoughts of my bladder were quickly silenced as a discussion about Anderson Whitehouse’s prior meeting with Carey Price was brought up as the next segment for the NHL Fan Choice Feel Good Moment. I remembered having cried the first time I saw it and it was clear that I was going to cry again as tears filled my eyes when Anderson was brought onto the stage and the presenter cued up a video from Carey Price himself. 

“Carey is here.” I leaned over and whispered to Biz who looked at me like I was crazy until the man himself appeared on the stage to surprise his biggest fan. The second the two embraced the tears poured and Paul had to reach over with his pocket square in an attempt to prevent me from completely ruining my makeup. At the same time, he was openly crying as well and my heart panged once more knowing that this was affecting him as much as it did me. Men not being afraid of showing emotion was something I loved and was clearly just another factor that drew me to appreciate Paul as a coworker and friend. As the whole audience gave them a standing ovation, Paul’s hand drifted once more to my back rubbing gently. 

The Vezina, Messier, and Willie O’Ree awards were some of the last of the night and as each was presented, my growing need to use the bathroom lingered in the back of my mind, slowly becoming more urgent. 

It wasn’t at all surprising that Nikita Kucherov won both the Hart and Ted Lindsay trophies for MVP after the season he’d had and I laughed softly as Paul whispered that they were working on scoring him for an interview at some point. As the award show concluded, we lingered in our seats for a moment before Paul moved to track down more people to talk to. He was such an extrovert that it honestly made me cringe sometimes and as he engaged himself in another conversation I moved to steal Brie from Ryan. 

“I need to use the bathroom asap. Come find it with me?” I requested. With Ryan aware of where we were, the two of us headed off and by the time I finished using the bathroom given the bump and the dress, Ryan had texted that the guys were waiting for us in the lobby so that we could head to the after-party. 

___

By the time we got through Vegas traffic to the after-party, music was already playing on the rooftop bar, alcohol was flowing, and trays of food were being passed around. Leaving me with Ryan and Brie, Paul went to grab drinks for the four of us and when he returned he passed me a cup murmuring that I should just trust him. There was never a doubt that I trusted him so while I had expected to be drinking water all night, I tried the drink Paul had provided and immediately I was hooked as a sweet fruity tang hit my tongue. Chatting with Ryan and Brie for a few minutes about the awards, it wasn’t long until someone approached to chat with the guys. For almost an hour I just stood, tucked into Paul’s side as he chatted with various players about the podcast, hockey, and any shared histories. 

Eventually though, my back started to ache and my feet hurt. I didn’t want to interrupt so I didn’t say anything at first, but eventually, Paul leaned down to whisper in my ear that I should go sit on one of the many couches for a bit and just rest. Nodding, I sent him a soft smile before bowing out of the conversation and heading across the room toward an unoccupied couch. 

I’d been just people watching for about ten or fifteen minutes when another woman approached. 

“Mind if I join you?” She questioned and after assuring her she could my brain finally pieced together who it was that had joined me. Vero Fleury. While Flower hadn’t been nominated for any awards tonight, clearly they had decided to take advantage of their residence in Vegas to come hang out with friends and enjoy the party the NHL put on. 

Though I knew who she was, she introduced herself after a moment. 

“Leigh Thompson,” I replied. “I’m here with Biz.” I clarified knowing that she was probably wondering how I made my way into a private party. 

“Biz’s date...how’d you get wrapped into that?” She teased and I laughed in response knowing that question was beyond accurate. 

“I’m the business manager for the podcast and he knows I owe him,” I responded my tone light. “I just don’t owe him enough to endure a sore back and achy feet the entire night,” I added, causing her to laugh softly. For a moment I could feel her eyes on me and she shifted a bit closer so she didn’t have to speak as loudly. 

“I remember those days.” She murmured. “It’s all so worth it though.” She assured me and realizing that she had noticed my bump I nodded. 

“I sure hope so. Because this little one is wreaking havoc on my body already.” I replied. “Don’t get me wrong...I love them. But single parenthood is hard.” For just a moment I let my hand brush over my bump before resting it at my side again. 

“I can only imagine.” Vero murmured and instead of dwelling on that she pulled her phone out of her clutch, opening it to pictures of her girls and their newborn son. For the next little bit, I chatted with her about what to expect with a newborn, the joys and hardships that being a parent brought. I mentioned having to figure out how to make a nursery look like a nursery without being able to paint or hang more than a few things on the walls and Vero immediately jumped into suggestions. 

Eventually, Marc-Andre came over to join her and after pushing back my star-struck expression, he chatted about his son and daughters before diving into some stories I could use against Paul if I ever needed them. It wasn’t long before I was laughing with the two of them and had lost track of time. It had been nearly an hour since I had sat down before Paul appeared beside me, his brown eyes just a little glassy from the alcohol he’d consumed so far. 

With Paul insisting that there was someone he wanted to introduce me to, I was pulled away from the couch...but not before exchanging cell info with Vero who had insisted that I reach out if I had any questions or just needed someone else to talk to about everything that was rapidly changing in my life. She added that she would send me product suggestions and ideas for the nursery once she was home and had more time to check some things out. I was absolutely interested in whatever advice she had to give because it had been almost two decades since my mom had my sisters and having a baby was certainly different now than it had been then. 

With Paul’s guiding hand on my back again, any unease I’d been feeling from being by myself vanished. Crossing the room, Paul immediately butted his way into a conversation. 

“Sid...this is who I wanted you to meet.” He declared and instantly a flush crossed my cheeks as I realized that I was now standing in front of the first player I’d ever had a crush on. “Sid. This is our business manager Leigh. She’s a lifelong pens fan.” A million different thoughts flooded through my body, the first of which being that I needed to kill Paul for not giving a girl some warning. Instead, though I did my best to compose myself, reaching out a hand to shake Sid’s outstretched one. 

Sid was gracious as always, immediately inquiring about how I’d picked the pens as a team and after responding that it was just kind of what happens when you’re born in Pittsburgh he laughed and nodded, his familiar giggles even better in person than they are on video. Pausing, I commented on how I needed to thank him because it was his being drafted that had gotten me through some of the hardest times in my life and while the rest of the conversation was honestly a bit of a blur, at the end of it, Paul insisted that I take a picture with Sid for posterity's sake. 

Sid was subsequently pulled away and immediately I leaned into Paul’s chest, trying to quell the rapid beating of my heart. 

“I hate you. Give a girl some warning next time.” I mumbled, causing Paul to laugh. 

“Do you hate me too much to dance with me?” He inquired, his gaze soft as he looked down at me. The song had just switched to something slow and without even really thinking about it, my hand accepted Paul’s extended one letting him lead me out to the dance floor. 

Swaying softly, his hands fell to my waist and mine drifted to link behind his neck. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” He questioned softly. Nodding in response, I bit back a yawn. “Good I’m glad.” He added. “Thank you for tonight. I know this isn’t really your scene but it means the world to me that you agreed to come.” We danced until the song came to a close and after talking with a few more people Paul asked if I was ready to head out. 

Back at the hotel, Paul helped me with the zipper on my dress before disappearing into the bathroom to change from his suit. After changing, we readied for bed in a comfortable silence and then slid into bed together, Paul’s arms wrapping back around me, his hands stroking over my belly until my eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. Even more so than before, I felt safe, warm, and cared about while cuddled against his 6’2” frame. It was a feeling that was welcome but terrifying all at the same time. 

Chapter 8 Social Media: 

[callunavulgari]

Year-In-Life | 2020

Or that annual New Year’s meme where I talk about what the year was like to live through. And since this is 2020 the read through below features: a whole lot of depression, frank discussion about losing my cat, and pictures of my face.

1. What did you do in 2020 that you’d never done before? Lost my best friend. I lost a hamster when I was about ten, but other than that, I’ve never lost a pet before. Losing Mal was the worst thing about an already awful year. I have lost family members that I have mourned less than her. I am still fucked up about losing her, and probably will be for a long while yet. 

Things that I haven’t done before - 2020 edition - consists of extreme depression, global pandemics, wearing a mask if I’m not either at home or in my car, having covid, being in the ER twice in one year, cutting all carbs and losing sixty pounds, spending a weekend in Vegas (in January, obvs), gambling (and winning over a thousand dollars), and probably a lot of other things that I’ve blocked out. But it’s always going to be the year that I lost Mal.

2. Did you keep your new years’ resolutions, and will you make more for next year? Apparently, according to 2019 me, my resolutions were to lose weight and quit smoking. Which, strangely enough, I actually did. Who knew that going to the ER for heart issues at the age of 30 would scare me into switching some things up.So, yay! I kept my resolutions.

Resolutions for 2021 - lose the rest of the weight. End goal is only another 50 pounds away. Write something original if you can, but don’t stress if you can’t. Heal. Be happier. Breathe deep. Don’t do something you’ll regret.

3. Did anyone close to you give birth? One of my coworkers had a kid earlier in the year, but nothing since.

4. Did anyone close to you die? Mal. 

5. What countries did you visit? Alternatively, what is your favorite place that you did go this year? No countries this year, because that is illegal. I did go to Las Vegas in January though, before the year turned into an absolute shitstorm. It was actually really wonderful, which I wouldn’t have expected out of Vegas. We watched our friends get married on the High Roller. Ate a lot of very good, but very expensive food. Gambled a bit and actually won money. Saw two Cirque du Soleil shows - the Beatles and water one. Saw the Bellagio fountains and maybe cried a little about it. It was really nice.

6. What would you like to have in 2021 that you lacked in 2020? Well, I didn’t get a ring and we didn’t get a house, but we also made the decision to not do that this year. We did however, get a better president, so that was nice. In 2021, I would like a little more serotonin and a little less anxiety. And I’m not gonna say a damn thing about a ring.

7. What date from 2020 will remain etched upon your memory, and why? September 20th, 2020. Any other dates don’t fucking matter. 8. What was your biggest achievement of the year? I lost a ton of weight and quit smoking, hopefully for the last time. Covid didn’t kill me. I didn’t kill me. I know that sounds bad, but it was a really, really horrible year.

9. What was your biggest failure? I don’t know. Not being able to save her? Not knowing that the heart abnormality had gotten that bad? Not getting her on clot busters the minute we took care of the thyroid problem.  10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I had Covid near the end of October and had regular illnesses a couple times throughout the year. I went to the ER in May for heart-related problems. And I’ve had debilitating headaches every single day since Covid, so. Yes. 11. What was the best thing you bought? We rescued a new kitten approximately four days after we lost Mal. It was too soon, I think, and if I could have done it again, I may have waited longer. But BMO was incredibly depressed after she passed and had basically stopped eating, so we were desperate. But I can’t regret getting her. She’s been the little bit of sunshine we’ve had since October.  12. Whose behavior merited celebration? I don’t know. Everyone and everything sucked this year. 13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed? I don’t know, mine? I’ve come a long way this year in terms of weight loss and smoking and holding it together, but I’ve also sunken into the deepest hole that I’ve possibly ever been in since September. I will always be deeply frustrated by Nick’s mother and my mother, so that’s not really new. Everything sucked. Hopefully 2021 is better.

14. Where did most of your money go? Bullshit medical stuff. Turns out that two ER trips, countless doctor visits, and dental fuckery is really expensive. I did also go slightly crazy and bought Nick too many gifts this year, but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t bad. Also planning on buying a relatively pricey comforter as soon as I’ve confirmed that I haven’t gotten it for Christmas. 15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? I am going to be completely and totally serious when I say that I don’t think I’ve experienced true excitement since about February. I did get a very intense, brief spike of serotonin when I saw the new Dragon Age and Mass Effect trailers. But like. I don’t know. That’s kind of it. 

Okay, no, that’s a lie. I was happy to lose the weight I did and was super proud of myself and my health was phenomenal, but then Mal happened and covid happened and it’s hard to see the good things that happened this year when I feel this fucking horrible right now.

16. What song will always remind you of 2020? Toss a Coin to Your Witcher (because yeah, that was this year, fuck). Teeth. Don’t Get Me Wrong. The Untamed theme. Well, the entire Untamed soundtrack. Dance Monkey. We Won’t Be Falling. Promare soundtrack. Own Me. Into the Unknown. Monster. Waving Through a Window. Eurovision soundtrack. 17. Compared to this time last year, are you: i. happier or sadder? So much more depressed. Which says a lot, because 2019 was not super great. ii. thinner or fatter? But hey, on the plus side my answer to this question is finally thinner. iii. richer or poorer? Probably around the same. Or maybe poorer? I had a lot in my savings last year that I had to dip into because of medical shit. 18. What do you wish you’d done more of? I wish I’d done... anything. I wish I was allowed to leave my house without worrying about infecting myself or others. I wish that I had gone to the park more. I wish that I’d travelled. I wish that I’d written more. I wish I’d cooked more. I wish I’d worked out. Spent more time with my cat.

19. What do you wish you’d done less of? God, I fucking wish I’d spent less time in my apartment.

20. How will you be spending Christmas? I don’t know. Nick’s family wants to have a big gathering since his grandpa might not be around next year? But the idea of that makes me super flinchey, for obvious reasons. I mean, I’m reasonably sure that the antibodies are still in our system, so we have a smaller chance of infection, but fuck. Also, large gatherings have been giving me anxiety, also for obvious reasons. 21. How will you be spending New Year’s Eve? I hope that we’re staying home. I want to make pirozki and spend the transition into the new year on my couch, maybe playing a video game, maybe napping. 22. Did you fall in love in 2020? Still love him. He got me through this year. I don’t think I could have done it alone. 23. Best month for you this year? January through March was not horrible. I can’t remember a definitive good month of the three, but January was Vegas, which was really good, so lets go with that.

24. What was your favorite TV program? Of just 2020? The Untamed (live action and anime), The Magicians, Guardian, various Watcher Entertainment segments, She-Ra (season 5!!!), The Haunting of Bly Manor, Over the Garden Wall, Leverage, Motherland: Fort Salem...

My favorite being The Untamed, hands down. Obviously.

25. Do you hate anyone now that you didn’t hate this time last year? I don’t think I have enough energy for hate at this point. I’m just tired.

26. What was the best book you read? Favorite was probably a tie between Gideon the Ninth and Harrow the Ninth, which works out well since they’re part of the same series. I really, really loved this series and am kind of sad that I have to wait until 2022 to get the third part of the trilogy. Top ten below, because why not.

Gideon the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Harrow the Ninth by Tamsyn Muir

Into the Drowning Deep by Mira Grant

The Lost Future of Pepperharrow by Natasha Pulley

Something to Talk About by Meryl Wilsner

The Invisible Life of Addie Larue by V.E. Schwab

Return of the Thief by Megan Whalen Turner

Written in the Stars by Alexandria Bellefleur

The Last Sun (and it’s sequel) by K.D. Edwards

The City We Became by N.K. Jemisin

27. What was your greatest musical discovery? Toss a Coin to Your Witcher has singlehandedly escorted me through 2020. Basically all the songs listed a couple questions up were my favorites of the year, but the Untamed soundtrack was probably my favorite. Promare soundtrack was also bomb af.

28. What did you want and got? Nick’s mom bought us nice bookshelves when we moved into the new place.

29. What did you want but didn’t get? A lot of things. Namely, I wish Mal was still with me.

30. What was your favorite film of this year? Promare, 100% Most of the other movies I watched were all rewatches. I watched My Neighbor Totoro, Onward, Knives Out, Emma, and that Eurovision movie. They were all pretty swell.

31. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? I wrapped presents on the living room floor and watched Last Christmas, which I thought was just a rom-com Christmas movie but surprised the hell out of me at the reveal that her love interest was dead the whole time? Like? That came out of left field. We then had a very quiet lunch at the Lantern, the Chinese place we go every year, and ducked into Oakland Nursery and Barnes and Noble long enough to grab some plants and books. I also got to see the Easton Christmas tree from across the street. It was snowing and honestly, a really pretty day. Oh, also I had to go to the dentist. That was less fun.

32. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? If I’d been able to keep Mal. 33. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2020? I wore a lot of comfortable work appropriate clothes and pajamas. My clothes don’t really fit me anymore since I lost all the weight, but I refuse to buy more until I’m actually at my goal weight. 34. What kept you sane? Nick was very helpful every time I had an anxiety attack and/or broke down crying. It could have been a lot worse, probably, but I literally cannot wrap my mind around that right now. 35. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? Every single actor in the Untamed live action is unfairly gorgeous, especially Wang Yibo and Xiao Zhan. Also, Henry Cavill was a shockingly good casting for Geralt and needs to be grimey all the time because he is a LOT more attractive when it looks like he hasn’t showered in three weeks. 36. What political issue stirred you the most? FUCK DONALD TRUMP IN THE EAR 20156789 2020—– This has literally been my response since 2015. Here’s to hoping that it won’t be my response in 2021. Also, children in concentration camps? Lying to the public about the pandemic? The race riots that happened earlier in the year? Literally everything else? This year has been fucking awful. 37. Who did you miss? Mal. Myself when I’m not feeling like this. 38. Who was the best new person you met? Annie. New coworker, delightful lady. If the pandemic was not a thing I definitely would have already gotten drinks with her after work.

39. Talk about a new friend that you made this year: Uh. Annie is a delightful person and brought me and Nick food when we were wasting away with covid. She also gave us toilet paper when we ran out after all the assholes in the entire country bought all the toilet paper in March/April. 

40. Post a picture from the beginning of the year:

This is me in like... February? I think? In public. Without a mask. I have lots of pictures of me in January, but all of them have someone else with me.

41. Post a picture from the end of the year:

Taken on my birthday, snatched just outside the doors of Barnes & Noble with the Easton tree across the street. Note the mask dangling from my ear.

42. A memorable meal discovered this year? Okay, so like. Two things. One- I had a meal in Vegas, that was fucking amazing. Actually I had a couple of those. Let me see if I can find pictures. Okay, so below are the two best meals I have eaten this year. The top is a butternut squash and pistachio ravioli, which came with this sweet butter sauce and it was so. fucking. good. Like, I have craved this thing since January. The bottom is the beef wellington at Gordon Ramsey’s Hell’s Kitchen. Which was... overpriced, but admittedly still delicious. I could have lived off that damn ravioli though.

43. What was your favorite memory this year? My birthday was actually pretty okay, all things considered. The snow was magical and I felt solidly okay for most of the day. Other than that, all of the nights in Vegas were great.

44. What are you excited for next year? So, the message to me from 2019 me for this question is about how I was really sad on December 26th of 2019 and that I hoped that 2020 would be the year that we “seized life by the horns or whatever” and like. Baby. 2019 me. I realize your depression was valid, but holy fuck, my sweet summer child it got so much worse. Though, I guess technically I did seize life by the horns for a bit. And then September hit like a bag of bricks.

Anyway, I am cautiously optimistic and hopeful that the transition of power to Biden goes smoothly. I’m hoping that things get better and not worse. I’m excited for several books, movies, and games, but mostly, I’m hoping that things are better. 

45. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2020: My message from last year was this:

“I feel like my message from last year is fucking taunting me. Legit though, this is not the worst thing you’ve ever been through. You have a boyfriend who loves you, two wonderful cats that better not fucking die anytime soon, and like, I don’t know, working ovaries. A job. A car. An apartment that has a kind of shitty kitchen and a bath tub that might as well not exist, but is still an apartment! Which is more than some people have!”

Thanks 2019 Heather. It got worse. (Though admittedly, and knock on fucking wood, but 2019 me is right. It could technically still get worse. But I have hope that it won’t.)

My valuable life lesson in the year of 2020: Life sucks. Keep your head on straight. Mourn your dead and love your living like you’ll never see them again. Live life like you could die tomorrow. And don’t take the little things for granted. 46. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year: I am going to make it through this year If it kills me - This Year, The Mountain Goats

(2018 me apparently quoted Singing in the Rain. 2019 quoted something sad and pretentious. 2020 me is just tired and clinging to life by my damn fingernails.)

First Fandom of 2020: January of 2020 seems to have been solidly The Magicians, The Witcher, and The Untamed. Favorite Main Character of 2020: Wei Wuxian, fuck. Favorite Villain of 2020: Wei Wuxian, fuck. Close second if that doesn’t apply - Xue Yang. Favorite M/F Couple of 2020: Does Parker/Elliot/Hardison count? Because them, holy fuck. Also, female!Byleth/Jeritza. Favorite F/F Couple of 2020: Catra and Adora!!!!! Ahhhhh!!!! Er. Also, Harrow/Gideon.  Favorite M/M Couple of 2020: Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji. Close second is probably Ryan/Shane. Fandom That You Never Expected To Get Into: Honestly, probably the Untamed. I’m not usually crazy about live actions, but fuck, it was good. Fandom That Made An Unexpected Comeback: Buzzfeed Unsolved/Watcher. Also, in the last month I have been all over Mark/Damien(/Sam) from the Bright Sessions because I just listed to Neon Darkness. Fandom That Inspired The Most Crack: Yeah, idk. There’s crack in every fandom. Last Fandom of 2020: Buzzfeed Unsolved. And honestly, I’m still not out of The Untamed.  Favorite Fandom of 2020: Definitely the Untamed. Dipping into the Witcher was also nice.