#in the words of patrick star people have self esteem

[byebyebyeeeeeee]

"I hate it when people ignore me when I say hello or ask them how they feel. It just makes me feel like these friends that I know are transforming into strangers that I don't know anymore and it hurts me. It really does. Why give out a little bit of kindness instead of rudeness? Kindness is what I need right now. I don't want to have to yell at anyone verbally or physically, otherwise." - Sarah Rosenbaum

[sethcertified]

「 SLASHERS REACTIONS TO THEIR FANDOMS ! 」 . . . 📂

slashers : various

wrd count : 1.2k

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . how slashers would react to their fandoms

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . patrick bateman, bo sinclair, vincent sinclair, billy loomis, stu macher, brahms heelshire, & billy lenz

⤷ patrick bateman

okay this is going to be fun

his (already huge) ego gets boosted sm by the like "sigma" edits and shit of him

not to be cliche but the “I bet paul allen doesn't ___” sort of comments make him feel so high and mighty

and seeing how many people find him hot? god he would become even more insufferable

BUT HERES THE FUN PART

he delves more into the patrick bateman edits and stuff and that's when he finds the satirical shipping, cutesy edits, etc

he sees himself and the word "babygirl" put together and has a full blown meltdown

god it’d be so funny cause it's literally 50/50 in the fandom so he couldn't separate one from another if he even tried

AND THE SHIPS

oh, he would just be gagging at the louis x himself ships

idk I feel like he would go "take this down now 🤬”

he's so edgy 12 year old boy yk

AND THE EDITS

patrick practically passing out when he seems himself edits with anime blush and cat ears

his masculinity was already bruised by the ships and now this?

he 100% posts some of the edits about him on his socials

he also sends the links to these vids to people he dislikes to prove his "fame"

the fame goes to his head but he gets humbled when he sees everyone calling him "my pathetic malewife bbg 💕”

⤷ vincent sinclair

I just love vincent sm and so does his fandom

I have not once met someone who hates vincent

he is so insecure and humble and just deserves to see everyone complimenting him and his wax figures

he loves his fandom to say the least

and they absolutely adore him

definitely gets confused by some of the compliments he gets

example a: "If he doesn't want me to slut him out, why waist so slutty?"

^^ yes I did find that on here

is in disbelief ppl can find him attractive let alone say things sexual about him

he has rlly rlly low self esteem okay

if he ever tried to interact with his fandom online I have two different directions in my head

IS AWFUL ON THE PHONE

typos and everything

but it's so sweet

"THank yu 🙂"

he has big fingers and struggles to type ^^ or if he gets adjusted it's perfect grammar "I appreciate you for this. Thank you so much."

hes just a big ol boy getting the praise he deserves

⤷ bo sinclair

this one is a bit tricky

he isn't too phased by the compliments unlike his brother

he knows he hot

so "daddy" "so hot" compliments r not new to him

BUT I think stuff like | want to see him whimper" will make him feel VERY FLUSTERED

like awkward coughing and hiding his face flustered

but he doesn't get a bigger boost in his ego

I feel like it doesn't go to his head cause he is already pretty confident in his looks yk

but seeing people appreciate him for his personality?

like talking about how charming and husband material he is

it definitely gives him more hope that he's worth more than his looks & that he means something

this one is short but he wouldn't interact with the fandom

or he’ll barely scrap the surface so he doesn’t see the weird stuff…

like he seems so Facebook dad to me

basically he is tolerates his fandoms cs he’s only seen the tip of the iceberg

⤷ billy loomis

ANOTHER TRICKY ONE

billy is so tricky for me tho

honestly it goes to his head

seeing ppl in awe about him ^^

he's a slasher fan too so he is more active in other fandoms if that makes sense

but he does like to delve into theories and discussions about ghostface and the scream franchise with members of his fandom

rlly enjoys knowing he is considered one of the "well known" slashers

honestly he feels threatened by danny johnson from DBD because when u search ghostface a lot of content surrounding him pops up a long with stu and billy

billy wants everyone to know he’s the ghostface

he loves the fame basically

I do get the feeling he hates the image ghostface has tho

like the "thirst traps"

he's just the type of guy who calls people "posers" and "fake fans"

so that rily irritates him

if you know a lot about slashers/ghost face he's chill

he likes his fandom but there's definitely outliers with the people who know ghostface but not who's behind the mask

he wants the notoriety

⤷ stu macher

LOVES HIS FANDOM

he loves being worshipped by his fandom

all compliments, all fanart, all of it he loves

teases Billy sometimes about the posts

sends scream memes to his friends

feels guilty tho when he sees posts about his and Tatum's relationship

like that's the only downside for him

he responds to fans, tells "insider" stuff, etc

Stu is very active in his fandom

he thrives off of it essentially

definitely set up a cameo or something at one point and says his iconic lines from the movie

+ try's to get fan service out of Billy

hes like an obnoxious youtuber

REPOSTS EVERYTHING

edits? yes

fanart? yes

fanfic..?

yes.

he's not rlly sad either that billy gets more attention than him cs if you love stu you LOVE stu

calls his fandom "machiacs"

cause macher + maniac

but he does think he's more famous than he actually is

like if someone doesn't recognize him he'll go "I'm THE stu macher"

fanservice king!!!

⤷ billy lenz

no shame at all

he will repost smut/hentai of him

loves his fandom cause they're as equally as horny as he is

but I think he does see that he is desirable in more ways when he finds like fluff imagines

loves his fanart the most

he would try and redraw the fanarts but they turn out horribly

he 100% try's to interact with his fandom

key word is try

he doesn't type but does the voice to text thing

so all his replies and post end up

JEJSNSBSHSISJJSNS *insert heavy breathing* HSHDNDJSJSK

his poor phone can't keep up :(

he doesn't understand the fandom but he loves them

"billy boy my beloved ❤️”

^^ those are his favorite types of fandom interactions

⤷ brahms heelshire

refuses to have internet

straight up refuses

but I feel like he's the only one who would dislike his fandom

and i mean actively dislike

if he saw how many people call him "stinky wall boy"

let's just say he would have a fit

only thing he would like is people saying he's better than other male characters

but literally that's it

hates everyone and everything about his fandom

he thinks of them as lowly or without class

its just best if he never finds out about his fandom

✎ notes . . . yes, this is a repost. tumblr deleted my old acc >:( ◯　　🖖🏻　　⭒　　⧆

©️ sethcertified 2023

[jackedspicer]

a bio for my xiaolinsona! she’s a work in progress so i’m bound to come back and change it. trivia and more in depth information is under the readmore :)

continued trivia:

she’d show up somewhere near the start of season 4

she’s used a LOT for slapstick. in fact she’s mostly a comic relief character

she’s guided mainly by emotions, is right brain oriented, and is a hands-on learner

there is a running gag where she frequently has bandaids on her fingers, hands, arms, or anywhere really

she’s a massive funk junkie. LOVES disco. she’s also a great dancer

when she comes up with xiaolin showdowns, sometimes she’ll base it off of fun recreational activities or things that seem harmlessly mundane, like mini golf..... tic tac toe.....dance-off...... rock paper scissors..... the showdowns themselves obviously end up being high-stakes and lethal as they always are, except they’re based off of goofy premises

she’s probably musically accented by grunge that’s slightly funky

when it’s funny, she occasionally will use huge words or make jarringly philosophical statements, eg patrick star’s “the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma” cut to footage of milk spilling

shes a lot like charlie kelly. in general. any charlie moment is just. Her. she’s a wild card and screams every line and huffs glue and tries to get the honey out of a hornets nest outside of jacks house because she thinks hornets make honey and she likes ghouls and she genocides the rats in his basement and sleeps ass to ass with him and is illiterate

she likes to do arts and crafts but they almost always come out as abominations. she’ll occasionally borrow some of jack’s tools to construct her latest atrocity, and she’ll refer to them by a wrong/made up name while she’s at it. “the hacksaw duey”, “the electric hole puncher,” ”the automatic pizza cutter”, etc. yes the projects and the bandaids have a direct cause and effect relationship. please refer to this video (and this channel in general)

imagine her sitting at a table and just doing this in jack’s lair... this video alone can be used to sum up so much of her. the technique. the bandaids. the blatantly wrong information that’s said with such conviction. the dark turn towards the end of the video. “superfluous protrusion.” the way it ends

continued trivia pt. 2, taken from my instagram

(i’ll get into this more further down the post)

fighting style because this is xiaolin showdown:

she has a very nimble, disorienting style of combat. using pokemon stats as an analogy, her highest would be speed by far, followed by attack, with her lowest stats being defense and special attack. this combined with her unrelenting nature makes her an excellent distraction and a general nuisance, but she doesn’t fare well in prolonged head to head battle.

favorite shen gong wu: 

monkey staff, mikado arms, fancy feet, neptune helmet, hoduko mouse, woozy shooter (on herself), tongue of saiping, longi kite, indigo pyramid (on jack (cause it’s funny))

*the shen gong wu she’s most skilled with in battle are ones that trip up her opponents and cause status ailments. kinda like a prankster

backstory/analysis:

at her core, she’s a jolly, optimistic, humorous person, but her unruly, isolating childhood put a blow on her psyche. much like jack spicer, she’s been virtually alone her entire life - she was rejected by peers and adult figures alike since earliest childhood, and her home life was turbulent at best.

to ease the pain, at some point, she took on resenting and judging those around her as a means to cope. she has a holden caulfield-esque defense mechanism in play where if everybody sucks for this reason, or that reason, or those reasons, then she has justification for detaching herself from others, and she can derive her only source of self esteem from being better than them. this hurts far less than the devastating truth that she cannot connect with people on account of feeling so worthless and estranged from other human beings that she could never have the chance to be cared about by anyone. deep down, she’s in desperate, thrashing need of support and genuine human connection, and she has a warped perception of how she can achieve that.

she’s taken up evil as a hobby because it nurtures her desire to be destructive and, again, just like jack spicer, she engages in it as a way to feel seen. all press is good press, and the best way to make the headline is to cause some damage. what sets her apart from him in this regard, though, is that she takes all of her pain out on her enemies (in this case, the xiaolin monks) because she can’t stand how well off they are - instead, on the basis of their acceptance of one another, she sees them as goody two-shoes phonies who ought to be knocked down a peg. while evil to jack is both a means of getting much needed attention and a convoluted way of spending time with friends, to sid it’s a way to vent frustrations and a way to, well... still garner attention, but also spend time with a friend, except the friend is jack.

the other half of the reason she partakes in petty villainy is that it’s just... fun. she only got wrapped up in all this because she’d been restlessly putzing around somewhere remote, found a neat doohicky she planned on keeping, and when one thing led to another she wound up in a xiaolin showdown against jack. experiencing the chaos unfold revealed a golden opportunity she couldn’t pass up, so she asked jack to let her come with, debuting their partnership (i talk about this in further detail at the end of the post). goofing off and doing evil with him is so much fun to her! it makes her feel alive, a sensation and state of mind she never could fully achieve before.

noteworthy relationships:

jack: 

they have a team rocket thing going on. not in terms of their interpersonal dynamic, but rather their role in the story, how much of a threat they pose as, their schemes, and even their overall attitude are reminiscent of the iconic duo; they’re petty, recurring villains with hearts of gold who aren’t above occasionally siding with the good guys.

even though they both are on the same tier of comic relief and general foolishness, the metaphor i like to draw is that jack is the left brain and sid is the right brain.

their personalities have such chemistry and they’re both so goofy that they effortlessly sync up. everyone thinks it’s REALLY annoying

they’re best friends! they actually care very deeply for one another, even if they might have funny ways of showing it. they may be evil, but they’re mutually the only and closest friend the other has ever had, and with that carries a lot of weight. think of it - the first person you meet who hasn’t been nothing but awful to you likes you and wants to be around you. What a concept

while their relationship is platonic, there are several gags implying a romantic element, even though nothing is ever outright stated. kisses on the cheek, bashfulness, other characters making fun of them (“where’s your DUMB little girlfriend?” “..........she’s not DUMB!!!!!”), domestic references (“am i sleeping on the couch”)..... it’s left ambiguous because it’s hetbait plain and simple. somebody asks them what they even are and they say Partners In Crime wym. jack asks sid What Are We and she fist pumps the flat of her own chest twice, throws a peace sign and says We’re Bros

their nicknames for each other include but are not limited to “jackass, jacky-boy, jack-o-lantern, smarty pants, wiggles, spack jicer, spack, mr spack, spackle”, and “shortstack, pipsqueak, sid the kid, champ, funky monkey, foxy (in a funny way, he’ll say it like Whatcha Up To Foxy ? while she’s like making a mess doing an arts & crafts abomination or just vibing bein her weird lil self....  it comes from a place of playful sarcasm and affection) (champ, funky monkey, and foxy are courtesy of @currentlyfallingthroughspace)

to piggyback off of the left brain vs. right brain metaphor, “heart vs. brain is how they think, right brain vs. left brain is how they act, and two halves of a heart represents their natural dispositions” is how my aforementioned friend put it. they both have a lot of heart and are ooey gooey on the inside, but the difference is that sid can grasp the intricacies of emotional/psychological matters while jack can’t (actually knowing how to EXPRESS this is another topic). it’s in the same way that jack can effectively plan ahead, use logical reasoning, and know where to go and how to get there, but sid is shabby in this department. “one is aware but doesn’t address it until it’s too late, and one can’t see it and doesn’t ask until it’s too late.”  

another feature of potential conflict in all incarnations of them is the juxtaposition of sid actually being more down to earth than jack in the grand scheme of things. jack has the potential to go completely overboard, and whether or not he demonstrates the ability to catch himself on the event horizon will ascertain the outcome.

deep down, neither of them are truly evil, and they bring this out in each other as they ultimately contribute to the redemption of one another. how this actually happens is a lot rockier. sid has the intuition and self awareness to become increasingly cognizant of the fact that she engages in schemes as a way to bond with her friend, and, over time, she’s able to recognize that she’s simply been acting out, and she consequently softens up over time - but jack is much denser in this regard. he doesn’t consciously pick up on the same things she does and still believes that she’s drinking the koolaid as much as he is. the crucial dissonance in what matters most that had been incubating under the weight of things left unsaid emerges in a major falling out that challenges the nature of their entire dynamic and respective moral codes. i had a lot of help from the same friend with the following series of events and it’s really something that ought to be gone into detail on its own post, but a whirlwind brief summary is that jack becomes desperate from losing over and over so he comes up with this sinister plan that’s just too far, sid tells him to stop, they get into a nasty fight, sid leaves and makes it clear she’s not coming back, she goes to the xiaolin dragons for help, jack goes on an evil rampage but also loses his grip and has this mental breakdown because he lost the one person who’s ever cared about him (or so he thought), sid has the same brutal separation pangs but it doesn’t change the fact that jack is still doing what he’s doing, sid gets a firsthand view of a fight breaking out between the monks while she’s working with them and has a moment of clarity when she observes how they resolve it in such a healthy way, as they continue to work together and help her through the whole fiasco she realizes they’re not so bad, an entire excruciating series of events that’s genuinely too large to fit on this post unfolds and it ultimately ends with jack actually having to team UP with the good guys to stop what he started, and it ends with them breaking down, apologizing, and beginning their redemption BUT not without the illustration of several lessons that arose out of the complications of the entire thing...... the overarching lesson that’d been entrenched in their entire dynamic from the start, albeit corny, is that caring and being cared for was all they ever needed, and they learn to cultivate that within each other right under their own noses. it would be fun to have them stay as recurring villains forever, but seeing how much good is in their hearts is enough to make you wonder how they were ever evil.

xiaolin monks:

she thinks she hates them, but she doesn’t really. while her opinion of them is marked by resentment and distaste, she also holds them in high regard. a part of her wishes she could be friends with them, but the mental landscape she’s paved for herself doesn’t reveal that as an option. in her mind, she’s already been rejected by them. so why try?

the way she takes her pain out on them - people who had nothing to do with her traumas - can be summed up by the spinel su quote, “why do i want to hurt you so bad? i’m supposed to be a friend. i just want to be a friend.”

she gets chummier with them upon her redemption. out of the group, she gets along best with clay and dojo :) 

bonus origin episode

this would be the imaginary early season 4 episode i mentioned at the beginning of the post. it’s more of a loose string of ideas tied together with reckless abandon but hey. the episode would open with jack feeling lonely and down on his luck to establish the theme that he kinda needs a friend (”wuya’s gone, chase trained his cats to get surly with me if i show up, my evil dream team won’t answer my calls....”). his sulking is interrupted by a shen gong wu alert and he’s like. whatever. i don’t need them. i’m still gonna do this on my own. even if it’s. ˡᵒⁿᵉˡʸ. fastforward to the scene i described where sid is putzing around with her doohicky (which i’m considering might be the neptune helmet) all by her sad miserable lonesome when suddenly some flying bloke in a trenchcoat who looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in years shows up telling her she’s got something he needs. she of course responds with something along the lines of “you know what? why don’t you try to take it from me since you want it so bad, mr big stuff,” triggering a xiaolin showdown. this is around the time the xiaolin dragons show up too late - but they’re grateful for somebody having been there to fight jack in time, even if they have no idea who they are. she has no clue what’s going on, but whatever it is, she LOVES it. she goes buckwild. she has a time. jack, on the other hand.... well, understanding how badly he needs that wu is certainly throwing a wrench in it, but he can’t help but feel like he’s having a bit of fun too. well, up until he loses. post-showdown, the monks kinda count their chickens before they hatch so to speak and they rush over to this new kid with a shower of praise, thinking they have a friend on their side. instead, she cuts them off, shouts to the guy who’s gathering his bearings (or lack thereof) - “hey! jack was it?” - and playfully tosses her shen gong wu in the air, catching it. “you look like you need this thing way more than i do. tell you what! take me with and i’ll let you borrow it,” is what she follows it up with, implying she wasn’t really that invested and only saw the whole thing as a fun game. jack and the monks are flabbergasted. what’s more bizarre is she did in fact ask to join him, something nobody’s ever done out of their own volition before. she talks about how boooooooooooring it is here and how that was soooooo much fun and to pleeeeeeeease take her with. he’s really iffy about it and doesn’t know if it’s such a good idea. he tries to make himself look cool, telling her “as IF, shortstack..........im afraid The Jack Rides Alone................................................. but-” and ultimately buckling because he can’t deny that it would be nice to have someone around.

[ofthelabyrinth]

Instructions: Always repost with the rules, answer the 11 random questions left for you and leave 11 more for the people you tag!

TAGGED BY: @moonwoken​

TAGGING: be gay do crime

questions i am answering

1. how are things going?

They’re going, man! They’re...going. I have the next two weeks off work which I’m not thrilled about (I actually love my job) but like...my bestie and I keep trading silly little gifts back and forth, so that’s cool. I think I’m mostly still reeling from the blow-out of a breakup and like...feeling like I don’t belong anywhere? Maybe my depression’s just kicking into high gear again but I feel like I’m not wanting/don’t belong anywhere but maybe work. Like everyone and everywhere else just tolerates me. IDK man.

2. if you were someone else’s muse, how would your mun describe you?

Depressed, spontaneous, fickle, lacking in self-esteem but always available to build others up, loves too quickly and too easily, book smart but so fucking stupid otherwise. :/

3. if you could only recommend me three songs, movies or books to get to know you better, which would they be?

Ooooo, this one’s kinda tough! Well, for starters, my go-to movie is The Rocky Horror Picture Show, and I feel like knowing it’s my favorite movie (and having seen it at least once, lol) really explains a lot of my personality. What Rocky Horror can’t explain, my favorite novel probably can: Ray Bradbury’s Something Wicked This Way Comes. I really am haunted by this book. My recommendation for a “song” would actually be the whole Beetlejuice: The Musical album, but I think “No Reason” and/or “Say My Name” nicely encapsulates either my split opinions (former) or my energies (latter).

4. what was it that first inspired you to write? what inspires you today?

My sixth grade English teacher. He was very supportive of my writing and became a touchstone for inspiration in my life. I really started down that track after his class, and even though I’m not doing what either of us ever thought I would, his words still ring true. I don’t really know if I have any inspirations today, though, per se. Performers, I guess. Most of my strongest muses/writing have been born out of my fascination with the performer/s I’ve used for their FC’s.

5. if you had to put together a team of 5 fictional characters plus yourself to save the world, who would you choose and why?

Captain Katherine Janeway, Q, Commander Spock, Doctor McCoy, and Charles Xavier (PatStew). I’m going to be honest here: between Janeway and Q...we don’t need anyone else. Q’s powers and Janeway’s moral compass in combination with Janeway’s leadership and Q’s simp status will solve the problem on the then and there. I just happen to like both Spock and McCoy and think they would contribute a lot of flavor to the adventure, although we’d need Xavier to mellow shit out when all those hot heads start to collide--in particular, Patrick Stewart’s Xavier, since he fits the Star Trek vibe and would thereby have a little more sway with Q than otherwise.

6. what is your favorite fictional trope? least favorite?

My favorite...ever? Period? At all? In all of tropedom? Dark circus/carnival. The exact flavor of the circus/carnival/other travelling show as well as the degree of darkness doesn’t matter, I just always end up drawn in and stupefied by it. I think it’s a combination of the tonal juxtaposition (the light, bright, fun, easygoing, smoke-and-mirrors sensation of the show juxtaposed to the darkness and the horror) and my unending fascination with performance and performance spaces being used outside of their “traditional”/majority context. Backstage mysteries have the exact same effect on me, as do haunted theatres. My least favorite was formerly the misuse of the Persephone myth--twisted by modern, romantic minds into a love story where one isn’t existent in the original mythos--but it has since swung back to that of the unaware Mary Sue/Gary Stu. It’s a trope that can be fun when the writer is self-aware enough to perceive it, but it’s otherwise irritating beyond belief.

7. what unpopular opinion do you have toward the rpc or tumblr?

Soft-blocking is an exercise in pointlessness, as it rarely actually results in the blocked party staying away. This website is too glitchy to make that kind of thing work. Have conversations with the people you’d rather soft- than hard-block about the offense they’ve caused or just hard-black them, myself included.

8. if you could spend one day with your main muse (or your muse of choice), what would that be like?

Look, I’ll be real. My muse of choice? Very much not advertiser-friendly, as they say on YouTube. The things we would do would horrify people unaware of my sex drive and wild attraction to him. A night of debauchery on all levels--because we’d spend a night, not a day, that’s just the way his canon rolls--and if unreleased canon has anything to tell, it’s that I’d end up pregnant with his son and then probably die but it might have been worth it, especially if we can skip the reality TV show in the middle. So let’s just pretend I said I’d spend a day getting high with Jareth and wandering around the Escher room tripping the most balls ever.

9. if you found yourself in one fictional universe of your choosing, which would it be and why?

................. I’d either end up in space on Star Trek because I’m a lonely space gay or I’d end up in a creepy gothic castle singing and dancing--is it Rocky Horror or Labyrinth?--and perhaps legitimately feeling like the siren I long to be as people compliment my voice.

10. a character you’ve always wanted to write?

Mirror!Spock. I wrote him once and I loved it and I would love to write him again, but I don’t use AOS canon so finding people to write with is often difficult.

11. what are five things that spark joy for you?

Space, Rocky Horror, singing, my pets (did I tell you about my new dog?), Renaissance Festivals.

.

my questions for you

1. how have you been holding up lately?

2. what are three surefire ways to make you smile/happy?

3. who is your comfort character and what are they like?

4. explain your URL!

5. what is one article of clothing you love above all others and why?

6. what is your favorite kind of thing to write? what about your least favorite?

7. what is one belief you hold but do not often share?

8. if you could choose one person (alive, dead, or fictional) to spend the day with, who would it be and what would you do?

9. what is one piece of media that continues to hold your attention?

10. what drew you to writing on tumblr?

11. what is one thing you wish you got to talk about more often?

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Additional, useless, but maybe fun info on His Smile Will Keep You Safe

Bill and Charlie were not originally planned to be brothers until i told one of my (two) friends about it, and they immidetly went “Like the Weaslys?” so I just HAD to use that one. Their last name, Bellete, is French for Weasel, the mean nickname the Weaslys get called by Draco Malfoy

Jay, Charlie, Lucas and Bill are inspired by the technichians (and in Lucas’s case the tour manager) who I saw working for idkhow in Berlin. There were two guys setting up the stage, one in a plain blue shirt, looking so unnoticeable that he would have been invisiable if I hadn’t paid attention, who inspired Charlie, and one with a beard, black rimmed glasses and a base ball cap who inspired Bill. Jay was lookwise based on this roadie who helped carry the cases with equipement to the touring van, but I gave him dread locks instead of an afro like the guy had. And Lucas is plainly based on the looks of the tour manager

In Köln, when I was waiting for my second iDKHOW show, long after I had finished writing, and after the first few chapters were up, I saw a guy who played in a band in a venue next doors, and he looked exactly what I had always Luis imagined to look like. Seriously, if I had to cast people for the characters, I'd cast this dude as Luis.

I wanted the reader not to be the only woman on tour, so I added Lisa for the merch; the guy who I had seen at the idkhow show got cancled (I’m sorry, dude, even though I don’t know you), but he was super kind and just had some sort of peace about him which I packed into the “fatherly” side of Lucas which we get to see when he talks to the reader after her panic attack

I knew pretty early on that I wanted to include the incident with the stolen equipment from last year, and when the idea with the drugs popped into my head, it made sense to have the bus stolen in order to hide the drugs

Originally, before I created the characters in detail, I wanted the drugs to be smuggled by the lead singer of the opening band, which would have been Jay, but once I was finished with his profile I was like “no, he’s to innocent”, and decided to have it be the most unexpected character (apart from Ryan and Dallon), which was Lisa

Originally I had the reader’s appearance based on a mix of my other friend (who got me into iDKHOW in the first place) and myself, before I changed it to be a little more general. The idea was the reader to have a side cut, like myself, and long, brown, curly hair like my friend.

Also based on my friend’s appearance was the idea that somewhere in between the reader tells Ryan they always wanted pink hair, so he drags her to the hairdresser where they get her hair dyed pink.

Since the story is set in August/ September 2019, Ryan’s hair should be brown. Actually I wrote him brown haired until I asked my friend (the one with the pink hair) and they answered:

If Ryan’s hair would have been brown, and I would have included the hairdresser scene, he’d have gotten his hair dyed blue again, because “damn, I miss the blue”.

I did not include the hairdresser scene, because the only time it would have found some space, was during the time the bus got stolen, and it just seemed weird to have the the characters go “Hey, our bus and all the equipment got stolen, but let’s go dye our hair. Who wants to join?”

Lars is based on the guy I was in love with during high school (but we were never together), who probably still fucks up my self-esteem when it comes to anything that goes into the direction of flirting (aka he treated me like a piece of shit). I like using him as a template for the bad guys, I also wrote about him in “The Red Dress” (Patrick x Reader), and “Someone Who Loves You As Much” (Dallon x Reader).

All the cities they visit in the story are cities in the US at which iDKHOW played in that order during this year. But I pulled everything closer together, eg also skipping the dates in Europe.

I saw iDKHOW on a Wednesday in June. Since the day before, Tuesday, I had planned on writing a Ryan story (but only a short one), after the concert I knew it would be a longer story. I actually started writing while lying in bed in the hostel, next to my pink haired friend, who had fallen asleep already.

I wrote into tumblr drafts, three of them, which I’ve never done before. The first one is the very first sketch of into which direction I wanted the story to go.

The second entry was the reader meeting Ryan in the street (and it’s basically unchanged, except for Ryan’s hair colour) and the third one was the conversation in which the reader’s boss tells her about the contract

On Friday (two days after the concert), on my way home, I had a stop in a huge train station, before getting on the train that would take me home. I didn’t have wifi, so no tumblr drafts to write into, so I got a tiny booklet into which I scribbled the prologue, the second version of the story arch, and the characters

I can’t read half of the stuff I’ve written into that note book anymore, because it’s a MESS

What does that even say? I don't know.

 Jay was originally called Kay. I have the name written like that in the note book, and it was Kay in the first Chapter. But somehow I continued with Jay, and then I changed it in the first chapter, once I noticed it.

Pretty handwriting, I know. Anyone who has ever told me to write more neatly is only receiving the worst scribbled Christmas cards.

The opening band is called “Three Beats” as a mixture of “Three Cheers (for Sweet Revenge)” and “The Beatles”

 Lisa is actually the name of my sister’s best friend, who is a super lovely girl, but somehow it was the first name in my mind after I knew she’s be the bad guy

After the scene on the bridge, Ryan was supposed to get ill, and the reader contacts an old friend of hers (a doctor), who happens to live in the city they currently are in.

I was considering doing some scenes with Ryan randomly filming her for Instagram stories, like her spreading sunscream on her arms and he joking about her showing off her muscles and silly stuff like that.

I did not know how I wanted the two to get together until about a page before I wrote it. In the notebook I wrote that Ryan overhears the reader tell Lars off when he tries to flirt with her again, telling Lars that she’s in love with Ryan. This happens directly before Ryan goes on stage before the last concert, but he only confronts her after the show backstage. Then two days before Ch13 got posted I changed it again. Until then I had it written out as the reader following Ryan outside the bar, they talk and make up. Well, I decided it wasn't enough heartbreak.

The boy who helps the reader when she confronts Lars about what he told Ryan, is based on a boy who I met at the idkhow concert. Except that it was him who got bothered by a girl and didn’t know how to defend himself, and when he mentioned this in the break between White Room and iDKHOW, the girls around him jumped into defense mode. (I actually got into a staring duell, which is why I was able to describe the fight over dominance between Lars and the reader, because I basically starred her down and was very self concios during that short discussion (according to my pink haired friend it looked impressive, even thogh she didn’t understand a word because we were talking german; I felt more like an angry hamster))

Hamster Picture

 I wanted there to be eleven chapters, but because I also wanted certain chapter cuts towards the end, it turned into thirteen. And then I added onto ch13, and now there are 14 chapters

In my word documents, the original chapter 13 is called "ch-13" (still thinking about publishing the way it originally was, like a deleted scene) the chapter you got to read as 13 is called "ch-13.2", chapter 14 is "ch-14" and the epilogue is "ch-13.b"... It's messy.

 Doing the moodboards was fun but so much work… never again (how much do we want to bet that the next long story comes with mood boards again, because I’m stupid?)

In the scene in the diner, the reader orders a strawberry milkshake, because Ryan’s smelled so good. I wrote that because when i was in Berlin to see idkhow, my friend and i went fruit shopping, and i couldn’t resist the strawberries bc they smelled so nice

[metalchick19-blog]

The Bowers Gang: Ship #4 - Belch Huggins

Request: Hello, wanna know if you can ship me? I’m a brazilian girl, pansexual, with light brown hair and eyes. I’m a curvy girl, I’d say. About my personality: I’m not an easy person, I have borderline personality disorder and unfortunately that describes me more than I’d like to. I’m a bit sassy and incredible snobbish even thought I suffer of low self-esteem. I can be completely broken inside but I act like a bitch so no one can see through me +  I’m kinda naughty too? I’m kinky as FUCK and enjoy things other people don’t and some of them says I’m weird for that. Also I’m a switch. Well I guess that’s it. It’s v complicated sorry

Note: To the person who made this request - I just wanted you to know that I also have borderline personality disorder, and was raised by a Mother who had it as well. I know what it’s like to feel defined by something you never asked for, but I’m sure you’re so much more than what our disorder dictates. We’re our own people, and being difficult sometimes doesn’t make us any less worthwhile - if anything, we’re more interesting because we’re a little insane. Hope you enjoy.

Constantly has his hands on your hips/waist/butt because he cannot get enough of your friggin’ curves 

Randomly asks you to say specific words out loud, because he’s also 100% in love with your Brazilian accent 

Keeps insisting that you teach him how to do the samba 

Kind of just assumes you know it, because Brazil and female, but doesn’t mean anything by it

You guys start trying out moves in Belch’s living-room after school some days, even if you didn’t know it originally (which brings about some major weight loss and muscle toneage where Belch is concerned)

Eventually become proficient enough to dance-battle other couples at the drop of a hat, but the opportunity never presents itself (though Belch will always be ready)

Often asks if you think other girls in the vicinity are hot, because he’ll never stop being awestruck about the fact that you are legitimately pansexual

... Also makes him a little insecure, because he kind of feels like he can lose you to anyone, but he’s just fascinated for the most part 

Your sassiness is so on-point that you replace Patrick as the most capable roaster in the gang (which Belch loves with all of his heart)

Your sassiness in general is the chief thing that makes you stand up for Belch whenever Henry and Patrick make fun of him (i.e. at least twice a day)

Eventually gets to the point where Henry straight-up stops messing with Belch whenever you’re around, because he knows he’ll get roasted 1000x harder by you than he could ever hope to roast Belch

...Seriously, it’s so funny - Henry will very obviously think of something mean to say about Belch, turn to Patrick with a shit-eating smirk on his face, then see you glaring at him and just shut his mouth

The meanest boy in town has never been so obedient 

... Patrick stills takes verbal jabs at him 24/7 though, so have fun

Your disorder doesn’t even come up for a good while when you and Belch first get together, because Belch is just too oblivious to notice abnormal patterns of behavior 

Adjusts extremely well to any unstable moods you might have after he knows about your disorder though, and doesn’t hold it against you when you have an outburst - he’s patient, and understands that you can’t help feeling things as hard as you do 

Never really freaks out when you do something crazy and/or act crazy, because he knows that once you realize you’re being crazy, you’ll calm down and apologize

Basically just gets that most of the time all you need to do is work things out in your head, and then everything will be fine

Caters to certain aspects of your disorder so well though

Knows to give you time alone when you’re mad, knows how to help you keep things in perspective when you start to get overwhelmed, etc.

Becomes your “safe space” in a way, in that he never does anything to trigger your temper

Also he can make you laugh in less than a second if you’re in a bad mood

He’ll make you laugh even when you legitimately don’t want to, because he knows what you need in the moment, girl 

Seriously though, he’ll tickle you if he has to - Huggins knows that laughter cures all things 

So many late-night drives outside the Derry city limits - you guys just pick up some takeout, share Belch’s aux cord, and drive for miles while feeding each other various trans fats (the best kinds of fats)

You often stop somewhere (usually in an open field), put the top down, and just talk for hours while looking at the stars

Making out on the hood of the car (and sometimes getting it on in the back) is always destined to happen 

You and Belch take turns being the dominant one in bed, because switch

Starts off nervous when he has to be the dom, but legitimately starts to like being in control and taking charge in bed after a while

Ends up being a regular thing that you guys have to flip a coin to decide who’s going to be the dom for the night, because Huggins suddenly wants to do it all the time

Enjoy that for all of us - it’s very rare that a girl is special enough to give rise to dominant Belch

Great match, and one that would make Belch an extremely happy man

[a-pretty-nerd]

Blackmail (Patrick Hockstetter x reader x Henry Bowers)

Request: "Hey! I saw you take requests, and it's amazing because I love your writings, and I was wondering if you could write one with Patrick and/or Henry and a very shy and quiet reader, where basically they back into her house (for a bet or something) and find like sexy clothes and decide to tease and blackmail her because of this. I hope you understand what I mean, English is not my first language so I hope I didn't make a mess😂" ~ Anonymous

I love this!✌❤

A/N: Yes! Tits true! My inbox is open! Though I'm a little more picky with what I write than last time, you can ask whatever you want as many times as you want. Know that it means a lot to me that you guys like my writing! The sweet encouraging things you guys drop in my inbox litterally give me life! So please, your requests and feedback keep me goin'! ❤

Warnings: NSFW, blackmail, threeway, sex, rough sex, Pat x Hen stuff, Patrick's pan ass, etc, etc, ETC! LETS ROCK N' ROLL!🤘

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

You stared down at the blue plastic tray that sat before you. Riddled with slop, goo, and what barley passed as a piece of bread. Derry High being a public school, what were you expecting? Every week day at lunch you had to swallow your pride and what the lunch lady called 'pea soup' all alone in the back of the lunch room.

But latley, lunch was getting more and more interesting. And by interesting I mean, down right annoying. This small group of boys that sat a table away from you had started to pay attention to you. You hate attention. You sit in the back of the lunch room, back of the classroom, you spend P.E. class on the benches, you faced being sick one day so you didn't have to present a paper to the class. You have this general, 'I don't exist' vibe, and you like it that way. No one talks to you, no one picks on you, and you would have rather kept it that way.

But those boys had somehow found you an interesting target as of late. You don't know what triggered it, what made them look at you. But they wouldn't stop starring, talking to one another and then cackling like crows before looking back at you. It made you anxious and sweaty when they looked at you. Like they were planning something. Plotting. And today they took action.

It was a particularly hot spring day, and you were forced to wear a shirt that perhaps wasn't as appropriate as you would have liked. For the first time, the girls were out to play in the wild. And the boys took notice. You're not sure who threw the first shot, but suddenly you felt a scratchy little thing fall down your shirt. You looked down, and found a piece if popcorn sitting happily atop your breasts. You barley had time to remove it before another fell in. Farther this time. You hissed and tugged at the bottom of your shirt so it would drop out. The third hit you in the nose, and then you heard them burdt into laughter. You looked up at the four, Reginald Huggins, Victor Criss, Patrick Hockstetter, and an infamous Henry Bowers sat at the table in front of yours. Laughing like maniacs. It made you red in the face. Almost as red as Reggie's who tried his best not to look, but still his large shoulders bounced as he chuckled. Vic's hand shook Reggie as he laughed through the other hand that covered his mouth. Those two trying not to make too much of a scene. The other two however, didn't give a fuck. The lankiest, limbs flying through the air as he cackled himself to the point of falling out of his seat and falling onto the disgusting yellow tile. He made people stare. And Henry just sat tall and let out a harty laugh.

You starred at them for a moment in disbelief. Then came the anxiety attack that tore through your body. Forcing ribbons of tears to fall from your eyes. People were starring at you. All the eyes, all the attention. You bolted out of the room to hide in the bathroom till your next class before you could go home. You walkes home with red eyes and a tight frown you held as the event still played through your brain and gave you the shivers. Never again would you wear that shirt. You were burning it as soon as you got home.

Of course you didn't really burn it. You threw it in the hamper and changed into a baggy T-shirt to match the way you felt. You felt like crawling into bed and hidding away. But the world wouldn't let you. You were shaken by the loud chime of your doorbell. You made your way to the front door with a confused look on your face. You unlocked the door and peeked from the crack you opened to look at the guests on your front porch. Your heart painfully leaped out of your chest and you used all your might to try and close it. But a sturdy hand firmly planted itself, and pushed so you couldnt.

"Aw, c'mon kid. Don't be like that." A naisally voice cooed.

"We just came to apologize for our little...joke at lunch today." Henry pushed the door open further, there was no use in you fighting.

"H-How did you know where I live?" You quivered as Patrick slinked past you and into the entryway.

"Doesn't matter." He muttered.

"Your parents home?"

"No- But you can't- hey- I said-" You tried to argue but they came in anyways.

"Nice place, Y/N." Henry commented as he looked around, as Patrick started to climb the stairs. Wait, your room was up there. He can't see your room. They can't see whats in your room.

"Hey!" You shouted at Patrick who paused. His head slowly turned to look down at you standing there by the now closed front door. "You can't be up there!" You warned him. He looked back down the hallway upstairs, then back at you.

"Why? Whats up here?" His smile reached from ear to pierced ear. Oh shit.

"Nothing, its just, my parent's room is-"

"Oh, but we're not interested in your parents room." Henry chuckled at Patrick's retort before they both made their way there. You managed a few weak words of protest as you rushed to follow them. You started to panic as they made their to your room, and opened the door.

"Lets see, what do we have here?" Henry asked himself as he first made his way to your dresser. Oh no. Oh no no no! You lunged for the dresser but you were too late. "O-hohooo!!" Henry reached in with his fingers and let the pefectly layed out fabric glide across his rough skin.

"Oh shit! I knew it!" Patrick looked into the drawer, both of them grinning like absolute idiots. Your heart raced. "I told you she was a freak!" Patrick nudged Henry as he held up a particularly prized piece of yours. A very lacy, very white and very revealing bra.

"Takes one to know one!" Henry insulted him, but neither truly cared. Too wrapped up in the discovery. You'd have thought they'd found a pirates treasure to way they handled the tiny pieces of fabric. You had a thing for pretty underwear. It was something of a self-esteem bust, even in your social crippled world, like any other it made you feel pretty. It was for you. Even the black one with all the tight straps and the underwear that was practically string. This was your little secret. Was.

"Put this one on!" Patrick demanded with a goofy grin as he turned to you.

"W-What? No!" You denied. It caught Henry's attention.

"I bet she's wearing one right now." He cooed. They turned away from the dresser and started to advance.

"Get away from me!" You shouted as you backed up. You tried to run, but Henry grabbed your arms and held you there.

"We'll make you a deal hot stuff. You give us a little show, and no one has to know about this." They smiled at you with cruel, knowing grins. "And if you don't, and you kick us out. Everyone will know about your dirty little secret. How you dress like a little slut under all that."

"False modesty." Patrick added. Your chest heaved as you thought for a moment. A little too long before Henry's fingers loosened and they began walking past you.

"Have it your way. Guess you better get used to all the new attention at school, slut."

"Wait!" You cried in a panic. They turned back to you with knowing smiles. You swallowed hard. "What...did you want to see?" You said with practically a whisper. They laughed.

"Atta girl." They walked back into the room, and closed your bedroom door behind you. You barley had time to say a word before Patrick reached down and practically threw your clothes off of you. He smiled, pressing his front to your now semi-bare back as he looked down at your underwear. "Look at that. Pink." He chuckled above you. You cowered under him as he practically inspected your form. You felt the pricking of denim on your lower back, above your butt.

"It's alright I guess." Henry shrugged it off. "I want to see her in this." He threw a bright ruby red piece onto your bed. Patrick grunted with approval. You reached for it, and hid in your small walk-in closet to change. When you came out in a basic red bra and panty decorated with lace and hearts, you found the boys patiently sitting on your bed. Their eyes lit up with curiousity, and lust when they saw you. You could have sworn that Henry nearly creamed his pants the way he looked at you. Patrick didn't seem too impressed, though his eyes didn't look away. The adrenaline rush you got from this. It was a little, nice. You started to feel a little, good. And the way they looked at your body, the end all be all of that moment. It made you a little more confident.

"This one." Patrick threw a one piece at you. A complicated piece to put on with straps, and sheer fabric. It was borderline bdsm. It barley covered what it needed to. You stepped out, and found both intriged but not satisfied.

"What? You don't like it?" You asked nervously.

"Why? You want us to like it?" Henry probbed with a cruel grin. You shrugged. The next one, was something you didn't wear very often, simply out of fear that you'd ruin it. The white piece Patrick first layed eyes on but Henry didn't look too excited for. Of course, the restricted bulges in their worn jeans said otherwise. When you opened the door, you watched as Henry shifted uncomfortably in his seat on your bed. All eyes were on you, no one said a word. You couldn't help but smile coyly.

"This ones my favorite." You admitted as you rocked your body from side to side playfully. Finally Patrick smiled and stood.

"Mine too." He cooed, his lithe fingers reaching for some loose fabric and grazing his skin against to feel it. His hot heavy breath crashing into your neck as he loomed over you, getting closer and closer. He inspected your body in the garment with those inquisitive eyes. Henry grew more and more hot headed as Patrick started to touch your bare flesh. Gliding his knuckles against your shoulder, back, belly, thighs, anywhere, teasingly. Egging Henry on to say or do something. "What do you think Henry? I'd like to see the blue one on next-"

"I don't want to see anymore of that shit!" He barked. Patrick just looked at him and smiled. "I want a different show." He told you as he stood and sauntered closer to you. Your cheeks went red.

"Different?" You asked, knowing damn well what he meant but being too damn scared to admit it.

"I want more." He growled as his hand reached out and firmly pressed against your hip.

"Hey, I was here first." Patrick told him, faking jealousy.

"Fuck off." He told him as he leaned in to kiss you. Henry's lips were shockingly soft, and the kiss was surprisingly sweet. Even as it heated up, he was gentle and conservative. He made you moan into his lips. When he pulled away, he latched onto you neck and pulled you close by your hips. Suddenly you felt pressure on your back, and long fingers forced your face up. Patrick kissed you from above and Henry felt you up. Patrick's kisses were more liberal, passionate, and spiced. His touch was more gentle than Henry's were. He was more patient, Henry was needy.

Henry made a fustrated grunt when he couldn’t get your bra off, he sounded almost like an angry child. You went to remove it yours, but Patrick beat you to it. He tossed it to the side and got the first grope. From behind, he reached from underneath and held them tightly. Rubbing in circles as he pinched at your nipples. He chuckled into your neck when you made a soft squeak. Once he let go, Henry took a turn roughly groping and sucking as he pleased. Patrick rubbed his clothed crotch against your as. Grinding up against you, forcing you to likewise grind into Henry. Who's erection was getting painful with excitement.

"I want her first." Henry growled after another needy kiss as he started undressing himself in a hurry. Patrick held your half naked body and rocked you from side to side with affection. You leaned back into him with your eyes closed. Your brain completely fogged over with lust.

"You said we had to take turns?" Patrick chuckled.

"Me, I did." Henry barked at him. "I don't want your dick in my way. This was my idea anyway!" He pulled you away from Patrick, and glared at him as he took you in his arms. He began kissing and loving on you as he took you to your bed. He had you get on the bed and bend over doggy stile. He pulled down your damp panties and he let out a satisfied sigh of approval before he rubbed his tip against you. You heard him shutter as he entered you. Your jaw dropped and your mouth hung open as he began fucking you. The feeling ran over your body in a pleasurable warmth. Patrick took the opportunity. He undressed himself, and was stroking himself as he walked over to the other side of the bed. He ran his fingers through your hair before he pulled your forward so his tip slipped between your lips.

"Good girl." He forced your head to bob up and down on his cock as Henry rammed you from behind. Your eyes practically rolled back inside your head as you sucked Patrick's big cock. You couldn't make it to his base. Suddenly you felt yourself grow weaker, yet stronger? The strange sensation of a building orgasm as you were rocked between two worlds. You let out helpless sounds of pleasure as you were tossed back and forth. You let out an almost angry and fustrated grunt when Henry came before you. Having tired himself out, he passed out on your bed beside you. Leaving you unsatisfied. "That bastard." Patrick grunted, pulling his cock out of your mouth and walking around the bed. You gasped as you felt him enter you. "I'll give you what you need, baby." He held onto your hips and began thrusting. Deeper, harder, and you were already so close, it kept building.

"F-Fuuuuuuck" you moaned as you gripped onto your bed sheets.

"Haha thats it. Cum for me Y/N." He called to you as he fucked you, relentlessly. He had you practically screaming as you came around his cock. He let out a surprised huff as you shook under him. He came a few good thrusts after you. He panted over you as his hands let go of your hips, where he left small marks from holding onto you so hard. You panted with him, laying on your bed and taking a moment of rest. When you opened your eyes and looked up at Patrick, he was starring down at the passed out Henry. Patrick looked up at you and licked his lips before he reached over. He fondled Henry as he layed there.

"What are you doing?" You asked him.

"He may cum fast, but the fucker can reload quick." You muffled a laugh, covering your mouth. You watched Henry as his head shifted and his face scrunched up. When Henry was completely up again, Patrick looked at you. "Watch this." He knelt down by the bed and began licking Henry's cock.

"Mmmhh" he moaned with his eyes still closed, still in a passed out daze. Patrick continued, to the point where he was sucking him completely. Taking him entirely. "Mmmhhh Y/N." Henry moaned your name. You stiffled another laugh as you watched them. Until Henry let a struggled grunt, and a few daze hip thrusts later. Henry came into Patrick's mouth. Once sure he was done, he pulled himself up. Keeping his mouth closed as he crawled onto the bed with you. Henry's eyes fluttered open just in time to watch you. Patrick reached out and grabbed the back of your neck to pull you to a kiss. The residue of Henry's orgasm on Patrick's tongue going to you. You kissed Patrick back in the moment as he held you close to him.

From then on, you had new friends at school. The Bowers Gang were well acquainted with you, and shockingly they kept your little secret that turned dirty.

[1dramamomma]

Love in Reel Life

One of my all time favorite movies is “Can’t Buy Me Love.” It was a romantic comedy about a high school student who is tired of being a geek, so he bribes the head cheerleader to “date” him for one month. Ronald thinks Cindy holds the key to his popularity. That newfound ranking on the social ladder of high school would then bring him happiness. Desperate for $1000 dollars, she obliges. She had nothing to lose while he had everything to gain. She fixed his hair. Changed his clothes. Took him to parties. Taught him how to act. She even changed his name. In one month, his ingenious plan worked. Their fake relationship made him a part of the cool crowd. Ronnie had now achieved the status he had always desired. There was only one problem. Cindy fell in love, and not with the new “Ronnie.” In spite of his unruly hair, unfashionable wardrobe, and his simplistic lifestyle, the head cheerleader had fallen in love with the geek.

I’m not sure why that movie was my favorite. I like to believe that it is because it gives people hope that there are actually people in this world who can set aside status, looks, or money and just love you as you are, and not for what they hope you will be. Although if I had known that Patrick Dempsey, who played Ronald, would have grown up to be “McDreamy,” that would have shot my theory out of the water.

As children, our dreams are shaped by fairy tales. Girls are taught to look for “prince charming,” and we fantasize about romantic dates in crystal carriages, while dressed in ball gowns. Society has trained our minds to carry around a mental checklist in order to find a mate. Are they the star athlete? Do they drive a fancy car? Do they come from the perfect family? Do they give us butterflies by tickling our ears with sweet romantic words? Our youth teaches us to place value on superficial ideas. We see charm. We see beauty. And we see status. We often enter into relationships that are self-seeking. “What can they do for me? We try to impress, and we are easily impressed. I’d like to believe that our youth causes this shallow way of thinking. Yet, the older I get, the more I realize that age has nothing to do with it. Immature thinking is something many of us never seem to outgrow. Although our hearts long for real love, more often than not, we find ourselves putting our trust in a child-like dream instead of a real person.

So, how does one find their knight-in-shining armor? More importantly, how does one turn their childhood dreams into a true love story?

First of all, stop looking for love!!! Instead, focus on falling in love with yourself. (And I don’t mean in a self-centered narcissist way.) Too many people today are dependent on others for their own happiness. However, people are human. They change their minds. They make bad choices. You can’t control other’s feeling or emotions, but you can control yours. Make the choice to love yourself, even if “Casanova” decides he doesn’t. There is actually evidence that indicates how one’s self-love can interfere with their relationships. If you have self-esteem issues, you tend to think no “good person” could ever love you. Negative thoughts cause anxiety. Anxiety turns to jealousy. Jealousy interprets innocent acts as rejection. Feelings of rejection can cause hostility, which leads to toxic relationships.

When love does find you, learn to drop all expectations of what it actually looks like. It isn’t syrupy sweet words. It isn’t a shout-out on social media for all the world to see. It isn’t lavish gifts or fancy dinners. Don’t get me wrong. Those are great, but love is not built on acts of grandeur. It is a simple friendship that refuses to die. It is finding satisfaction in doing nothing together. Love is found in little moments. It is being willing to listen instead of talking. It is compromise. It is seeing flaws, but choosing to overlook them. It is being able to drop all facades and be the real you. It is all the reasons Cindy fell for Ronald.

Although Walt Disney and Hollywood movie producers seem to have cornered the market on how love and romance should progress, it never seems to play out that way in actuality. Romance movies have been written, edited, and rewritten. Those glamorous moments that we watch are composed of the perfect lighting, wardrobe, and make-up. Music plays to warn you of potential dangers. Life is easy in “reel” life.

I used to dream of a movie-like romance. I now see things differently. I want a love that is full of surprises. I no longer need long drawn-out airport goodbyes, and I’ve learned that nothing romantic ever happens in the rain. (Memorable, yes, but not romantic.) More importantly, the only audience my love life needs is the waiter at my favorite restaurant.

So, I’ve stopped hoping that the geek falls in love with the head cheerleader. I quit believing that castles make homes. I’ve realized that the the so-called “white knight” is usually a cover-up for evil, while the bad guy may actually turn out to be Prince Charming. My perspective on finding true love has now changed. Love needs no cinematic appeal. It is found in the ordinary. And it’s magical…because it’s real life.

Davida Smith

bordsmith@att.net

[supernatural-book]

Masterlist!

A list of all my stories! If you think I forgot to add a story on here, feel free to tell me. I’m not good at remembering to update this. Also, I run out of ideas a lot, so please feel free to send in requests! 

!!!= NSFW material, ***= Potential Triggers (rape, abuse, suicide, descriptive violence, etc.)

DRABBLES:

Sam:

Out Of My League- 733 words. You think Sam is out of your league, and vice versa

Normality-  139 words. Sam watches you play with your little sister.

Fallin’ All In You-  444 words. Sam and the reader reflect on their relationship. 

My Type- 1,122 words. The Reader is feeling insecure, and Sam notices.

Kids- 543 words. (slightly Sam x Reader) It’s the first snow of the year!

Hands- 382 words. The reader gets a tattoo and Sam helps them through it.

I’ll Be There- 1,145 words. The reader comes back from a family reunion and her self esteem has been completely deflated.

The Wifey- 761 words. Sam comes back from a hunt and the reader can't stop teasing him about his "wife".

Dean:

Flustered- 788 words. Dean is teasing the reader with that wink and smirk and the reader gets frustrated.

Quarter Past Midnight- 1,559 words. The reader feels guilty and overwhelmed, and goes out to the bar. Dean doesn’t like that and intervenes, taking her for a midnight drive to help her sleep. (Might turn into a series)

I’ll Be Your West Coast- 765 words. Late-night cuddle talks and angst. based on Imagine Dragons song

Oneiric (OLD)-1,764 words. (OLD) restarted!

Philophobia- 3,010 words. Dean and the reader celebrate her first djinn kill.

Wearing Dean- 580 words. Dean catches you not wearing green on St. Patrick's Day.

Here's To...- 5,250 words. A hunt in the reader's hometown doesn't go as planned, leaving Dean to help her face her past.

Classy- 1,684 words. You meet another hunter when you cross out of your comfort zone.

***Ghosts That We Knew- 6,790 words. After Dean regains his humanity, he has no memory of what he did to his girlfriend.

Your Girlfriend- 794 words. You're too tired after a hunt and Dean stops at a diner.

You Got This- The reader is having a really bad week and Dean's there to help.

Spontaneous- Dean takes the reader for a spontaneous date.

Castiel:

Blue- 169 words. A short drabble about Castiel’s fucking beautiful eyes.

Thoughts- 1,392 words. The reader has selective mutism and Cas helps her power through it. 

Punching Bag- 571 words. The reader still has pent up anger towards Castiel that needs to be released.

Beyond the Sky- 2,155 words. The reader doesn’t think Cas is really an angel, or that angels exist, so he helps her to believe.

Sunburn Relief- 1,077 words. The reader ends up sunburnt and Castiel shows up unannounced to heal her and share some interesting feelings with her.

Flaws- 2,047 words. The reader believes there is no way Cas could possibly love her and all her flaws.

Love Love Love- 345 words. Both Cas and Reader are conflicted over what they want

What Happens Up Here- 1,223 words. Cas and the reader share a touching heart-to-heart in a peculiar place.

Burn Out- 1,098 words. The reader has been suffering depression and anxiety for a long time, and only now are they letting it all out, signaling a certain angel to come to the rescue.

Gadreel:

Second Chances- 1,591 words. You decide to give him a second chance when nobody else does.

!!! Baby, I'm Yours- 3,566 words. Cute, awkward first-time smut with a side of cheesiness

That Season- The reader stumbles upon Gadreel during nesting season and he has to awkwardly explain how that correlates to her missing clothes.

Warmth- The reader is cold during the first snow of the year, and Gadreel cuddles them to warm up.

Lazy Days- A drabble where Gadreel finds the reader having a lazy day.

!!! Dangerous- A NSFW drabble.

Ew- 544 words. A drabble where the reader is sick.

***Dream- 867 words. Gadreel knows he’s hurting the reader emotionally, and just wishes he could dream that everything was okay. But angels can’t dream.

Puppies- 311 words. Gadreel and the reader adopt puppies.

Of Tough Nights and Tawny Wings- 2,240 words. The reader finds themselves breaking down in front of a comforting Gadreel.

Miscellaneous:

People Suck (Balthazar)- 472 words. While out together on Valentine’s Day, you get sick of being around people. 

The Only Exception (Charlie)- 1,056 words. You don't believe in love. Until you meet a spunky girl. But you don't like women... do you?

MULTICHAPTER/SERIES:

Divine (Castiel)- After Cas heals the reader they find out that his grace sparked something inside of her that was never supposed to be activated.  Part One1,551 words Part Two 1,092 words Part Three 1,305 words Part Four 1,519 words Part Five 2,144 words

 Born To Be Yours (Gadreel)- She was sure nothing good could come from a relationship between them, but she felt a pull connecting her to this angel, and she complied.  Part One 4,800 words  Part Two 5,440

A Pretty Big Win (Dean)- In the midst of a stressful time in the Winchester’s life, Dean takes you out on a road trip. Perhaps that’s all he needed to relax. Part One 2,459 words.

Oneiric (Dean)-  It’s been two months now since Dean’s girlfriend disappeared from the Bunker. When they finally find her, nothing could have prepared them for the state she was in. Part One 4,500 words

HEADCANONS+IMAGINES

Stars (Castiel)

Sexual Knowledge (Angels)

Gadreel Headcanons (General) 

Gadreel Headcanons (Dating)

Angel Nesting

Studying Headcanon

Random Gadreel HC

Angel Habits 

Imagine

More Gadreel Headcanons

More Gadreel Headcanons?

[mysticseasons]

Stars on Ice skaters — Moir and Virtue among them — have too much fun as they put competitive skating behind them

Olympic glory behind them, skating heroes including Moir and Virtue revel in Stars on Ice — and Elvis Stojko says this is the best tour in decades.

You’ll see a lot of familiar faces — including some big winners at the recent Pyeongchang Winter Olympics — when the Stars on Ice come to town on their cross-Canada tour.

But for the skaters, this year is a special one, with many of them — including pairs gold-medal winners Scott Moir and Tessa Virtue, pairs bronze winners Meagan Duhamel and Eric Radford and Patrick Chan, who shared in the gold won by the team as a whole — retiring from professional competition.

It’s also a chance for people who’ve crossed path many times over the years to renew bonds of friendship as many of them contemplate the future.

“In one word, it’s fun. I got to be honest with you, this is a special group. Our problem will be that we have too much fun together. We do enjoy each other so much but that’s a good problem to have,” Moir said.

Among the better known faces is self-described “older statesman” among the tour, 1994 and 1998 Olympic silver medallist Elvis Stojko, whom many of his younger colleagues hold in high esteem.

“To hear someone like Elvis Stojko say it’s the best tour he’s ever been on — and he’s been doing tours since 1993 — that feels very special. When I grew up, all anybody ever wanted to know when I told them I was a figure skater was if I knew Elvis Stojko,” Moir added.

Stojko knows well the difficulty of transitioning from the competitive life and occasionally offers advice to his fellow skaters when asked.

“When you’re retired, there’s a big fat change. That’s a big energy change and it takes time to adapt to that. It’s a huge transition and (the retiring skaters) are not going to feel it later this year. When the next (competitive) season starts and they’re not involved … that’s when they’re going to start to feel it,” Stojko said.

“The first summer I didn’t train, I felt guilty. I felt like I was missing something and it took a while to figure out that balance,” he added.

But leaving behind competitive skating means a lot less pressure, Stojko said.

“Competition is just that nail-biting on the head of a pin … type of thing. There’s pressure on you to perform (at Stars on Ice) but it’s nowhere near like the Olympics. When I was at the Olympics for two weeks, I usually lost five or six pounds by the end … just from burning off the stress,” Stojko said.

His fellow skaters agree.

“When you’re training for competition, your life is very routine. You wake up at the same time, you eat the same things, you’re on the ice at the same time. It becomes almost like a Groundhog Day situation,” said 2006 bronze-medal winner and former world champion Jeff Buttle.

“Doing shows is kind of the opposite. Every day, we’re in a different city … and you just sort of roll with it … It’s your job to go out there and entertain the people first and foremost. It’s also an opportunity to be on the ice with other performers and interact with them, which is something you would never normally do.

“It’s having that team atmosphere. We depend on one another to bring the energy. It’s a nice change of pace,” Buttle added.

Duhamel, who has toured with the show with Radford for six years, said retiring from competition comes at the right time for her.

“I’ve been so lucky that I’ve been able to achieve everything I ever dreamt of and I’m able to leave the competitive side of the sport on my own terms. It’s really exciting getting to go across Canada … from Halifax to Vancouver,” Duhamel said.

She adds that being free of competitive skating’s rules — specifically, the moves skaters aren’t allowed to do — is liberating and adds to the spectacle. “So especially Eric and I, as a pairs team, we get to include a lot of really cool, acrobat, innovative moves that are actually illegal in competition.”

Chan, who’s settling into a new life in Vancouver, leaving competition is “very freeing.”

“In competition, there are expectations that you put on yourself and there’s also expectations that you might think other people are putting on you and so on. With Stars on Ice, what makes it so much fun … is that we finally get a chance to perform and skate in a stadium environment without having nine judges sitting in front of us, staring at us,” Chan said.

“When you’re on Stars on Ice, you really pay attention to every note, every lyric and song and you’re just really able to have the liberty to do what you want … It really gives you a chance to really let go and think of every moment you’re on that ice and to be able to look people in the eye. I feel that’s the real purpose of skating,” he added.

Buttle, who choreographs all of the show’s group numbers, has made his second career in bringing out the best in other skaters.

“A lot of skaters were asking if I would choreograph for them. So I almost fell into this role and it’s something that I really enjoy,” he said.

The strong performances of Canadian skaters at the recent Olympics has also bolstered the crowds for the show, which began with a sold-out performance in Halifax. The tour comes to Toronto’s Air Canada Centre on May 4 and Hamilton’s FirstOntario Centre on May 5 and London’s Budweiser Gardens on May 6, before crossing the country and winding up in Vancouver on May 17.

“At a show, (people) are just very excited to see their favourite skater. They’re never seen them up close, they’ve only seen them on TV. I’ve had a lot of people come up to me and say, they’ve always wanted to watch me skate, they’ve never seen me skate live. I’ve been around for so long and it’s amazing, you don’t realize how many you’ve touched through the sport,” Stojko said.

- The Star

[thewickedsound]

THE BEST JAZZ ALBUMS 2021 (SO FAR)

  This album was recorded 45 years ago but sound so fresh like a recent release from a young band. Previously unreleased Marcos Resende & Index self-titled debut album from 1976, contributing a crucial missing work from the glory days of progressive Brazilian instrumental music. Resende in 76 after touring Europe with his previous band returned home to Brazil as an established highly regarded keyboardist, composer, and innovative electronic musician. Inspired and invigorated by US jazz and British progressive rock he'd experienced while residing in Europe, Resende went all out acquiring a keyboard arsenal to be reckoned with, which included the Prophet 5, Yamaha CP-708 and Mini Moog. Determined to integrate his newfound inspirations with Brazilian rhythms and jazz traditions, he formed a new quartet with Rubão Sabino (bass), Claudio Caribé (drums) and the late great Oberdan Magalhães, of Banda Black Rio and Cry Babies fame. Marcos Resende & Index recorded their self-titled debut at Sonoviso Studios with the legendary sound engineer Toninho Barbosa, known as the 'Brazilian Rudy Van Gelder' whose impressive resumé includes the era defining classics Light As A Feather by Azymuth, Previsão Do Tempo by Marcos Valle, and Quem É Quem by João Donato. Marcos Resende & Index fits perfectly amongst these masterpieces, sharing both the timeless ethereal qualities as well as the progressive and futuristic ideals of Light As A Feather in particular. Marcos Resende & Index by Marcos Resende & Index   Mathias Modica's Sonic Rohstoff is the new album on Kryptox Music. Sonic Rohstoff is a journey through abstract downtempo vibes, lofi jazz and futuristic electronica. Most people might know Modica from his earlier works as a producer, keyboard player and founder/ creative mind behind Toy Tonics, Gomma and Kryptox. Over the past two decades he has made a name for himself by discovering and breaking new talent and styles of music. This is Modica's first album under his own name, following three albums under his monikers Kapote and Munk. All instruments are performed by Modica himself, embellished by guest musicians from the new Berlin Jazz scene. Sonic Rohstoff by Mathias Modica   Zurich-based musician Arthur Hnatek is one of a new breed of players who see their music as a continuum stretching between genres, always thinking in terms of links rather than boundaries, possibilities rather than limits. His time spent playing drums with similarly adventurous and unclassifiable artists Tigran Hamasyan and Shai Maestro opened his ears to the possibilities of rhythmic variation: his immersion in electronic music production and the motorik tradition of Jaki Liebzeit alerted him the possibilities of repetition. Now, with Static, he presents his first trio record: joined by his equally fearless bandmates Fabien Iannone on bass and Francesco Geminiani on tenor sax, this is music created by classic jazz line-up and steeped in an improvisational facility, yet simultaneously utterly unlike anything in the standard jazz tradition. Static by Arthur Hnatek Trio

  Marcelo Monteiro, a saxophonist from Sao Paulo, Brazil, has played with various Brazilian and international artists and at the same time was developing his own authorial work. Has excelled in the jazz scene in São Paulo, currently, he has performed with his group, which may be in trio, quartet or quintet version. With his group plays compositions of his own. His music follows the style of groove, funk and modern jazz, simple but very creative themes, with a hint of Brazilian swing. On his new album, Deyeh, he experimented with arrangements with flutes and saxophones, exploring the sound combining contemporary jazz, Brazilian rhythms, in a modern concept. The album was recorded remotely with each musician recording from their own home studio. Deyeh by Marcelo Monteiro

  Sankofa by Amaro Freitas   World-renowned drummer/composer, & producer/beatmaker, Myele Manzanza, has proved that he's an artist who continues to dissolve the borders between modern jazz and electronic beat production. Having released three solo albums, and racking up tours and collaborations with Jordan Rakei, Theo Parrish, Miguel Atwood-Ferguson, Recloose and Amp Fiddler amongst others. Myele is already developing a strong live presence in his new London base; his quartet has shared stages with the likes of Hiatus Kaiyote, The Bad Plus, Alfa Mist, and drawing packed houses to top venues such as The Jazz Café and Ronnie Scott's. Crisis & Opportunity Vol.1 - London features a top tier cast of young London based talent including Ashley Henry (piano), James Copus (trumpet), George Crowley (tenor saxophone), Benjamin Muralt (bass) and additional contributions from the legendary Mark de Clive-Lowe (synths), with Myele Manzanza (drums) captaining the ship.   Crisis & Opportunity Vol. 1 - London by Myele Manzanza   Kaidi Tatham is a legendary multi-instrumentalist. Once dubbed "the UK's Herbie Hancock" by Benji B, he's a virtuoso on the keys and a true innovator in sound production as one of the original creators of the Broken Beat sound. Over the years his musical prowess has blessed numerous projects, initially with the likes of Bugz In The Attic and The Herbaliser, and more recently with DJ Jazzy Jeff (through the PLAYlist projects), Andrew Ashong (on the acclaimed Sankofa Season EP last year) and with a longtime accomplice, Dego. This is in addition to session work for artists such as Mulatu Astatke, Slum Village or Amy Winehouse. An Insight To All Minds is Kaidi's 3rd solo album under his own name, following several EPs and two albums for First Word; 2018's acclaimed It's A World Before You and the re-press of his seminal 2008 sophomore album In Search Of Hope last year. An Insight To All Minds by Kaidi Tatham   JAUBI continue the Nafs journey, which commenced with the single Satanic Nafs (featuring the remix by legendary LA producers The Gaslamp Killer & Mophono) released in March 2021. Now JAUBI draw on the elements of North Indian classical music, Hip-Hop and modal/spiritual jazz in their debut LP entitled Nafs At Peace. The journey officially began back in April 2019 when London's multi-instrumentalist and 22a Record label boss Ed "Tenderlonious" Cawthorne and Polish pianist/composer Marek "Latarnik" Pędziwiatr of EABS/Błoto, visited the group to record in Lahore. Together they channeled their personal struggles at that time into the two recording sessions allowing the musicians to find a spiritual path through this musical purge.  Nafs at Peace by Jaubi   Australian 9-piece Spiritual Jazz group Menagerie announce their highly anticipated third album 'Many Worlds', released 15th January 2021 on esteemed U.K label Freestyle Records. Menagerie is the Melbourne-based Jazz ensemble founded by producer, songwriter, guitarist, DJ and recording artist Lance Ferguson, also the driving force behind The Bamboos, Lanu, Rare Groove Spectrum and Machines Always Win. Recorded at Union Street Studio by award-winning engineer John Castle, 'Many Worlds' features some of Australia's finest musicians, including pianist Mark Fitzgibbon (a regular performer at Gilles Peterson and Patrick Forge's original Dingwalls sessions), drummer Daniel Farrugia and renowned saxophonist Phil Noy (The Bamboos). Inspired by both the post-Coltrane generation of the 70's, labels like Strata-East, Impulse! and Tribe, along with the current 'New Wave Of Jazz', Menagerie aligns with the world of Kamasi Washington, Shabaka Hutchings and Nubya Garcia, whilst also bringing their own unique twist. Many Worlds by Menagerie Astonishing new work from the fertile creative mind of tenor saxophonist-composer James Brandon Lewis. Performed by the Red Lily Quintet (James Brandon Lewis, Kirk Knuffke, William Parker, Chris Hoffman, Chad Taylor), an exceptional & singular inter-generational ensemble, this album speaks to the forever-evolving continuum of the jazz tradition. Voted Rising Star Tenor Saxophonist in the 2020 DownBeat Magazine International Critic's Poll, James Brandon Lewis supercharges his remarkable evolution with Jesup Wagon, a brilliant and evocative appreciation of the life and legacy of turn-of-the-19th century African-American musician-painter-writer-scientist George Washington Carver.   Jesup Wagon by James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet

  John Carroll Kirby's Septet album was recorded live in the studio with a range of talents playing keys, vibes, bass, percussion and drums. The composer and keyboardist leads the charge and approached the album wanting to play with the chaos of jazz fashion in the 70's/80's, bands like Weather Report and Miles Davis. He sure does that but there is beauty in the madness, with plenty of lush and golden keys dancing above lithe and ad hoc rhythms.  Septet by John Carroll Kirby     Matt Carmichael released his debut album on his own label, Porthole Music. He has already developed quite a profile and an impressive list of collaborations; he also reached the finals of BBC Young Jazz Musician 2020. His quartet, formed five years ago, consists of his contemporaries, award-winning Fergus McCreadie on piano, Ali Watson on bass and Tom Potter on drums. Like McCreadie, Carmichael creates music that feels highly personal, fusing an energetic yet sensitive modern jazz into a bedrock of Scottish traditional music. Where Will The River Flow by Matt Carmichael   Taking cues from Dorothy Ashby and Alice Coltrane at their most delicate, renowned Welsh harpist Amanda Whiting's mesmerizing Jazzman full-length LP After Dark arrives as soft as moonlight to gladden the soul and delight the ear-without forgetting to bring the swing. Summoning the nocturnal mood suggested by the album's title, Whiting's harp flows and cascades, dances and alights, broods and haunts, informed by a deep understanding of both classical and jazz music, ultimately revealing a top-drawer composer with rare melodic gifts at the top of her game. After Dark by Amanda Whiting   JD73's Electrio - Pyramid is a colourful & energetic live recording session presenting 8 incredible pieces of music. Dan 'JD73' Goldman is known the world over for his contributions to the world of Jazz & modern electronic soul music and is backed up on Pyramid by Hamlet Luton (Bass) and Gordon Kilroy (Drums) completing the ElecTrio. Dan's ability to construct these incredible melodic gems centered on the sound of the Rhodes Piano is something to behold. This is a real collectors album and if you're a fan of Herbie Hancock, Chick Corea, Bob James & George Duke you need this on your record shelf for sure. Pyramid by JD73's ElecTrio Read the full article

[mogdaze-blog]

In My Line of Work - Short Story

I've always found it funny that people like to call prostitution "the world's oldest profession." It doesn't speak all that highly of the human race's priorities, does it?

Paint on cave walls.

Discover fire.

Pay someone to fuck you senseless.

Get that in Latin, and we could engrave it at the base of every statue the world over - or better yet, build new statues, all shaped like giant brass cocks at full salute. That's the human mission statement in a nutshell right there: here, we have two types of animal, the ones with the dicks, and the ones getting fucked by them. And we will always - I repeat, always - be the ones with the dicks.

Yes indeed, the world's oldest profession.

I can think of an older one, but we'll get to that later.

It's outside of a motel called Restin' Easy that we lay our scene. Picture this: a gorgeous woman stands up against a sand-blasted brick wall, dressed to the nines in designer silks and a leather jacket. She's taking a long, sincere drag off a slender cigarette, and leaving blood-red lipstick rings on the unburnt white paper of the shaft. She's got the good looks of a 1960s movie star - a regular Audrey Hepburn in the making. Her black hair falls just above her shoulders, and sways gently in the night's breeze.

That's me.

The balding middle-aged man in the tan jacket with a face like a slapped ass, that's Dave. Yeah, Dave with the greasy skin that tosses back the neon rays of the glowing "VACANCY" sign above us. Dave the big spender, flashing the wad of hundreds in his faux-leather wallet.

Dave the asshole. Dave the John.

"Crystal recommended you to me," He says in an unbearably cocky tone, like I'm a new brand of aftershave he's been meaning to try out for a while, "She said you do things no other girl will do. That right?"

"More or less." I say, feigning a provocative grin.

When you've been in the business for as long as I have, you get pretty good at sizing up your customers with a glance. Sometimes, it's necessary to survival - you look the wrong way in this line of work and you've got a seven-inch stiletto buried between the links in your spine. Sex does weird shit to people's heads.

Dave, for all his faults, is easy to read. He wears a look of contempt, like he's too good for the situation he's putting himself in. He's wealthy, and entitled. He doesn't know why he's paying for sex - a man of his stature should be beating the ladies off with a stick, surely.

He probably sells used cars for a living, I think, suppressing a smirk.

"What can I do for you that Crystal can't, sugar?" I ask with an innocent flutter of eyelashes,

He grunts, one side of his mouth curling into a sneer.

"She was a little too...safe, for my taste."

"Too safe for you, huh? Ever considered trying to fuck a bear?"

"No, not like that. I mean, she was too vanilla. She wasn't comfortable with the things I wanted."

I raise an eyebrow and place a well-manicured hand on my hip, cocking my pelvis slightly to the side. Guys like Dave are almost like video games: once you know all the cheat codes, you're in the clear.

"Tell me, honey," I whisper to him in my most sultry drawl, "What is it that you want?"

What I expect is an answer, what I get is a grubby hundred dollar bill fumbled into my palm. Dave keeps scanning from side to side throughout, as though he's afraid of someone seeing him.

That's always a red flag.

"How about we go somewhere private, and then I'll tell you." He says, his voice oozing disdain.

I breathe a plume of smoke into his face and snuff my cigarette against the wall. On one hand, his rudeness pisses me off, on the other, I want it over with sooner rather than later.

The interior of Restin' Easy is everything that the facade would lead you to believe - old and chintzy, but with a certain charm to it, if you can look past the fine layer of sleaze. Think off-white shag carpeting, lamps that haven't been replaced since the seventies, and a pencil-moustached manager picking particles of cocaine from underneath his dirty fingernails. In short, it was my kind of place.

"Hey, John," I call to the manager with a playful smirk, "You got a room for me?"

His name isn't John, I know that much. But he reminds me of John Waters, so the name stays.

Not-really-John flashes me a grin back and fiddles with the lapel of his velvet suit, the lacquer in his hair rendered iridescent by the fizzing halogen tubes that hang above.

"Same as always?" He asks, his lisping voice softer than coffin-lining, "Number Seven's available."

I nod and he tosses me the keys, keeping Dave in tow. He's scowling like I've just spat in his face.

If anything's clear to me, it's that Davey-boy is used to better. He's a pervert with standards.

Smash-cut to room seven, an amateur porn set if ever there was one. In a certain sense, all hotel rooms - big and small, expensive and dirt cheap - feel like the same place, the same liminal area between destinations. They have the same walls, the same beds, the same dusty bibles in the bedside cabinets. Nondescript art of ports never visited and generic forestry grace the walls, and a minibar sits in the corner looking shameful, almost like it knows what it is. A shitty little robber with a conscience.

Dave looks out of place here, like he's being doctored into this image in real-time. He's still wearing that I-can-smell-rot-in-here scowl and avoiding eye contact with me for whatever reason. It doesn't exactly do wonders for my self-esteem, I'll tell you that much.

"So, uh, you ready?" I ask him, searching for an answer buried in the creases of his face, "I hope this doesn't take too long, honey. I'm hungry and the McDonald's closes at ten-thirty."

"It'll take as long as I need it to." He growls, loosening his tie.

I figure the uptight bastard would come-out a handful of sand after a perfunctory screw. He's never made love in his life - just fucked, and fucked badly.

In that moment, my hopes of having any fun tonight die on their asses.

Before I know it, he's pushing me onto the bed and starting to disrobe, revealing to me his fleshy, pale frame. There's a kind of solidness to him - not brick shithouse solid, but drying clay solid. As though with enough warmth, you could start twisting him into the right shape again.

I take off my leather jacket and shirt, and kick off my jeans, until I'm just in my bra and underwear. Without sounding too arrogant, I can tell by the look in his eyes that I'm better than he's had in years - but he's not appreciative, oh no. He looks at me the way I'm assuming Christopher Columbus looked at America - the look of a man ready to fuck shit up royally to assert his limp-dicked dominance over something beautiful.

I'd go into more detail as to what I look like without all those pesky clothes, but it'd cost you, sugar. And I don't come cheap.

Hell, with most of these guys I don't even come at all. See? Little bit of on-the-job humor, just to lighten the mood. What happens next is a little grimmer.

Once he's down to his underwear, Dave starts opening a briefcase he's brought in with him. I start wondering whether he expects me to sign a non-disclosure waiver or some shit, until I realize what he's producing from the case is a leather paddle covered in metal studs.

Naughty, naughty Dave.

"That looks painful," I giggle, fluttering my eyelashes, knowing the absence of fear would emasculate him, "I can see why Crystal turned you down. For a second, I just thought you must have had a funny-shaped dick."

For the record, his dick was of a relatively average shape and size. Nothing terrible, but not exactly remarkable either.

He just grunts, and runs his big, rough hands over the studs.

"You can't get this kind of action at home, huh?" I ask.

"Never in a million years," He says, finally turning to me, "My wife wouldn't allow it. But, then again, my wife isn't here."

He chuckles like a bad villain from a sixties movie would chuckle.

"Y'know, I've seen a lot of hookers, but none of them have been quite as mouthy as you," He says, taking tentative steps towards me as his erection began to bloom in anticipation, "I like that. Breaking you is gonna be a challenge."

I climb further back onto the bed, edging towards the pillows. The quilt feels cheap and rough on my skin - though I don't exactly have any high expectations for Restin' Easy. I don't come here for the comfort, after all.

"Word of advice, Davey-boy," I say with a salacious wink, "Take me before you break me. It'll make the beating more satisfying, don't you think?"

He doesn't say a word, refusing to concede to me, but he agrees. There's a soft thump as the paddle falls to the ground, and he crawls across the bed to me like a goddamn puppy.

I'd have laughed if I wasn't so excited for what comes next.

As expected, the sex is boring. For a man who carries a spiked paddle around in his briefcase like Patrick fucking Bateman, he's got a surprisingly dull preference for the missionary position - a position I'd always thought of as the mayonnaise of sex: good when you're in the mood for it, but too much of it and you lose the will to live.

He does tug my hair, though. I find that a little annoying, especially considering the price of having your hair done these days.

Once he's done and his body practically coughs into mine (thank god for condoms, or I would have caught his cold) he just collapses onto me, gasping and exhausted. It'd take another hour before the sad bastard would have enough energy to beat me.

And I've never been all that patient.

"Wow, slick," I find myself saying, with all the enthusiasm of a text-to-speech generator, "That really was something."

"Y'think?" He asks, wanting me to stroke his ego.

"Well, normally good sex can leave me satisfied," I muse, "But that just left me hungrier."

He gives an annoyed grunt and tries to hoist himself up, still awkwardly straddling me while he does it.

My painted lips are pursed into a tight grin, while my teeth begin growing from my gums and sharpening into vicious points. I have a mouth full of scalpels, and poor, ignorant Dave is none the wiser. This is something I've done before, so I know how to keep it hidden right up until the moment it all ends.

That moment, my dear readers, is now.

Without warning, I grab Dave by the fat folds on the back of his big, sweaty head and pull his face down towards me. My lips curl up over my teeth into a manic, open-mouth smile, showing him the piranha thing I had going on inside.

"Carol sends her regards." I hiss through my fangs with a cruel giggle.

There's a glimmer of terrible recognition in his eyes when I say that name. The universal look of "oh fuck, I've been caught" is plastered liberally across his face. The vain little turd looks terrified before he's even noticed my fangs, or that I've cribbed my one-liner from Game of Thrones.

He doesn't get a chance to respond. Within the next second, I've pulled him down further and clamped my jaws around his thick, piggish neck. He thrashes, but I wrap my legs around his waist and grab his arms, completely immobilizing him.

When I'm not hiding my strength, he's nothing to me.

Dave thrashes weakly while twin geysers of blood evacuate his throat, giving me a warm, refreshing drink - like coppery cocoa, that's always made me feel a little better about it.

It doesn't take him long to die, and when he does, the real feeding starts.

I'll admit, I have a tendency to black out when I'm in the middle of a good meal - like a premature food coma, you see? But, when I come back to the land of the living, I can see by the radium-green numbers on the bedside alarm clock that it's only taken me about fifteen minutes to do the damage I'd done.

When I looked down onto the remains of Dave Whatshisname, I see there's only bones left, and that I'm wearing a stylish, crimson apron courtesy of my meal.

Then, it hits me how full I'm feeling, and I collapse back onto the bed.

Cheap quilts. Easy to replace when there's spillage.

"Dave, you irritating fucker," I say with a groan, poking my bloated stomach, "If I can't button my goddamn jeans after this, I'm charging your wife extra."

Crap. That reminds me.

I lean over, feeling another pain deep in my belly as I do so, and grabbed my phone out of the pocket of my discarded jeans.

Carol. Carol. Carol. I've got her on speed dial.

When she picks up, she just says, "Is it done?"

"What? No 'hello'? Most people are polite to their hired killers, lady."

My indigestion is so bad that I barely have the strength to be sarcastic - oh, who am I kidding? I always have the strength to be sarcastic.

"Just tell me if my shitbag husband is dead."

I give an agonized groan as my stomach gurgles, as though dearly deceased Dave was protesting.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Dead, devoured, digesting. Whatever. You paid me yet?"

There's a long sigh down the receiver. Most people have that reaction when they find out I've murdered their husbands, but - to my credit - I never do it without being asked.

They need people dead, and I need to eat. Seems a fair trade to me.

"The money should be in your account."

"Sweet! And it couldn't have come at a better time, Carol. After your lard-ass husband, I'm probably gonna go up a fucking dress size. You owe me for my new wardrobe."

"You don't have to eat them, you know." She says, trying to pretend she's above it all.

"You're saying that from a human perspective. I'm not human, and ergo, we have different dietary needs," I say, wincing again from the pain, "But if you're satisfied with your service, I'm gonna save the biology lesson for when your husband isn't killing me from the inside. Okay?"

"I guess..."

"I need to hear you say it, Carol."

She sighs. Again.

"I am satisfied with my service. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Bye."

I hang up on her unceremoniously and collapse back onto the bed, throwing my phone to the side.

"Ten thou isn't enough for this shit." I groan again, my stomach ache ebbing and worsening as though on some kind of nonsensical schedule.

"Jesus Christ, look at this mess you've made!" I hear a shrill, effeminate voice ring out from the doorway, "I thought I told you to lay down a plastic tarp when you're doing your weird, hitwoman stuff!"

It's John. Not-really-John.

I find myself rolling my eyes at him, as he sashays into the room with a plastic bag and starts picking up the bones.

"That'll blow my cover, John," I say, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "I'm posing as a sex worker. You know that. And nobody wants to have sex in a room that looks like the interior designer was Dexter Morgan. It's a pretty major boner dethroner."

John just shrugs and carries on picking up the bones. I always give him a little cut of the proceeds, so he doesn't mind doing some of the cleanup - I ate most of the mess, after all. And now, I'm just laying there, on the precipice of an actual food coma.

I love a happy ending, don't you?

Like I was saying earlier, I've always found it funny that people like to call prostitution "the world's oldest profession." After all, it's not just corny, it's patently untrue.

Before people even dreamed of paying to fuck someone else, they were paying to have them killed. And that, my dear readers, is why I'll always be in business, and why cheaters never prosper.

[ghjco]

Weekend Bookmark: Canuck Edition

A weekly roundup of Greenhouse’s digital reads, inspired by Canada’s 150th celebration.

“Great Canadian Innovations” | The Globe and Mail There are a number of quintessentially Canadian inventions and exports that we can proudly rattle off when quizzed: basketball, ice hockey, the zipper, poutine, Drake, the word ‘chesterfield’... (You’re welcome, world.) In their Canada 150-inspired series ‘Great Canadian Innovations,’ The Globe and Mail highlights these and other “Canadian [people], products, and discoveries that changed the world.” Among them are innovators like Lewis Urry (who developed the alkaline cell behind most battery technology) and Sandford Fleming (thank him for our global 24-hour clock), plus inventions like Trivial Pursuit, canned maple syrup, and the pacemaker. The diverse and far-reaching list has left us smug—or as smug as our Canadian sensibilities will allow.

“A guide to Gord Downie’s Canadian tuxedo” | CBC Speaking of great Canadians… CBC breaks down the “double denim” sartorial stylings of The Tragically Hip’s frontman Gord Downie. From his appointment to the Order of Canada, to his concert appearances and his honouring at the Assembly of First Nations blanket ceremony, Downie’s Canadian tuxedo has become the musician and advocate’s signature look. CBC breaks down the components of his denim stylings—from the eagle feathers affixed to his famous hats (honourably given to Downie’s hat designer by the Oji-Cree tribe in Sachigo Lake) to his jean jacket pins (which include his Order of Canada, a Prince tribute, and a beaded poppy).

“15 books for Canada 150: Our reviewers choose” | The Toronto Star It seems impossible to select only 15 works from important Canadian literary figures, but The Toronto Star’s list includes a number of our favourites (All My Puny Sorrows from Miriam Toews, Madeleine Thien’s Do Not Say We Have Nothing, and anything from Alice Munro certainly seem favourite-worthy to us). We might add Patrick deWitt’s The Sisters Brothers, and anything from Robert Munsch and Margaret Atwood. Plus: CBC Books shared: the 150 bestselling Canadian books of the last decade.

“7 Canadian snacks you won’t get in the U.S. and the backstory on why” | CBC On the topic of Canadian lists, CBC’s roundup of uniquely Canadian treats has spurred nostalgia in us. We’ve always been puzzled by our American neighbour’s lack of respect for the highly esteemed ketchup chips, and so too have we searched for Smarties in the States and come up tragically short. The list gives some background information to such Canadian treat mysteries.

“I Only Think About the Next Mile” | Maclean’s As of 2016, $715 million dollars has been raised in Terry Fox’s name to support cancer research. Nearly four decades since his Marathon of Hope, Maclean’s spoke with Terry’s brother Darrell Fox, organizers at the Terry Fox Foundation, and a number of witnesses to Terry’s run to pay touching tribute to the heroic Canadian.

“Canada Doesn’t Know How to Party” | The New York Times Though The New York Times has been accused of romanticizing us, their northern neighbours, this opinion piece from Canadian contributor Stephen Marche looks at Canada 150 celebrations—or the lack thereof in some parts—critically. Marche points to the Canadian identity, one that seems reluctant to embrace any firm definition, and prone to self-flagellation, as part of the reason Canada’s 150 celebrations are relatively muted, as compared to other nations’ shows of patriotism. More critically, the omission of indigenous narratives in our collective national story is rightly seen by many as a considerable failing in Canada’s history. So too would failing to acknowledge this during the sesquicentennial be a mistake. Marche highlights the work the country has done thus far, and the work that still lies ahead.

-GHJC

[mylivejournalsucks]

College.

When i was Internet f****s briefly in my twenties, I got invited to speak at a bunch of colleges. And by “speak” I mean I was there to dole out advice to the students, make them lol, and eventually get drunk with them at an all-expenses paid dinner. As it turns out, colleges have lots of money allocated for speakers and whenever they’d ask me what my rate was, I’d be like, “????” I was so fucking clueless. I didn’t have an agent. The fact that these colleges were flying me out and offering to put me up in a three-star hotel made me feel Mariah Carey-level glamorous. I didn’t need any extra money! (JK, I asked for $500.)

Some of the schools were local, like Pace and FIT and Princeton. I found Princeton to be the darkest and also the chicest which…isn’t it always that way? The school had these things called dining clubs, which basically acted in the same way a fraternity or sorority would. You’d “rush” them and PRAY for an invite to the most exclusive club. And you guys? This just determined who you ate dinner with every night. It was like a non-negotiable high school cafeteria! Can you IMAGINE a more miserable scenario?!

I took the train in from the city and they put me up in this gorgeous house on campus that was reserved for their speakers. GORE VIDAL stayed there, you know? And then me, a dumb-dumb who wrote listicles about your crush texting you back. Anyways…. the people who asked me to speak ran the radio station. Princeton students are mostly preppy Patrick Bateman psychos but there were like five hipsters there who listened to Fleet Foxes and of course they were the ones who brought me.

After my talk, we went to the radio station and I watched them get wasted. I drank too, of course. Someone fed me an artisanal jello shot they had made in their dorm room. D.I.Y meets D.U.I., honey!

Most of the students confessed to me that they wanted to do something creative for a living but were stuck studying something practical like accounting or business. I had such a fondness for them. At 25, I was only a couple years older but there is NOTHING like the bubble of college. You don’t realize how small your world really is until you’re in The Real World and watching a girl in a headband drink a handle of Smirnoff vodka in an on-campus radio station while talking to you about how much she hates her stats class and how she doesn’t know if she’ll EVER get to lead the life she wants. I envied that naivete, as I was already a j-j-jaded BITCH.

Next, I flew to the University of Vermont. If Princeton was oppressive and tough, Vermont, was an organic farm-to-table cloud of relaxed whatever.  I loved it. My host took me on a tour of their gorgeousssss campus and after my talk, a whole bunch of us went out for the most delicious meal I’ve ever had in my life and then we may have went to a bar afterwards. It’s hard to remember the specifics of these visits but I can recall the feelings and they mostly were, “How did I get here? Do these people realize I have a drug problem and, like, four friends in New York and that my career is my boyfriend?”

It was true. My career was chic but my personal life was barely breathing by Duncan Sheik. Work kept me going, though. To have ambition, a drive, and goals, especially when a guy hadn’t touched my dick in three years and some of my friends were sociopaths with nice haircuts, it saved me.

Next, I went to Yale with the Thought Catalog crew: Brandon Gorrell, Stephanie Georgopulos and Gaby Dunn. We were there to talk about….sex? It was sex week? I don’t know, babe. It doesn’t matter because five people showed up and we were just like, “Do you want to go out for pizza?” So we did. I ADORED the girl who brought us to Yale. Her name was something chic like Demetria and she was from LA and her brain just had a nice, fizzy, snap crackle pop quality to it.

We went to the “after party” for our event and this boy in purple pants was circling me. The biggest mindfuck about this time in my life was having these fanboys who wanted to hook up with me, while I was literally invisible to strangers in New York. I was operating as either Ryan Gosling or Danny DeVito circa the Penguin mixed with Shrek and a splash of John C. Reily.

Anyway, this guy finally comes up to me and, boy oh boy, is he cute. He looks like he was made in a twink factory! We start talking—about what, who the fuck knows—before hightailing it to a gay bar. After a few drinks, I tell him I’m going to leave because my self-esteem is so low it’s basically underground. He kisses me right then and there because he’s young and cute and isn’t held back by anything.

We go back to his dorm room. He strips down to his underwear with such ease it stuns me. I’m three years older than him and it would take me two days, ten glasses of wine, a pitch black room and a NDA for me to have the courage to take off my shirt.

“Whoa, whoa,” I yell. “Um, I think we’re going too fast!”

Twinkle looks at me confused. “I’m just undressing before I get into bed. I can’t even hook up tonight. I’m going to DC early in the morning…”

Oh. Sigh of relief.

Are you confused by my attitude shift here? That makes two of us, hon. All I ever craved in my early twenties was sex and connection but the second they were offered to me, my bones would turn to crushed ice and I’d run away screaming.

“Can we cuddle though?” he asked.

“Sure.”

So we did. We cuddled. We made out. I grabbed his ass underneath his boxers and it felt perfect and tight. Then:

“Okay! Goodnight!” Twinkle turned off his light and continued to spoon me. Meanwhile, I lay there in the dark, terrified, wanting to leave, planning an exit strategy.

The hardest part about being that age was not understanding my psychology. My brain was like this unknowable freak on a leash. It was a saboteur who wanted to see me end up alone and I was five years, one disability confession, and 10,000 hours of therapy away from figuring out why.

Sitting there in the dark, getting spooned by a boy who found the whole thing to be so….uncomplicated, so easy, breezy, so natural, magnified my feelings of defectiveness. He probably did this all the time! He probably took boys home, fucked them, promptly fell asleep, and then walked them to their dorm room the next morning and kissed them goodbye.

How?

How do people do these things like they’re NBD? How are they not compelled to run away to Netflix and pizza and drugs? Don’t they know that it’s easier?

The reality was that it wasn’t easier. Keeping yourself alone is a full-time job everyone wishes they could get fired from.

“I have to go,” I said. Fantasies of me being back in my hotel room alone and not having to make small talk with a stranger in the morning were slow dancing in my head.

Twinkle jolted awake, already dozing off because, again, IT WAS THAT EASY FOR HIM!

“Huh? No. Just stay here. I’ll walk you back in the morning.”

“Nope. My train leaves early in the morning. It just makes more sense to leave now.”

He outlined a very logical argument where, actually, it made sense for me to stay at his place. ( Fucking Yale kids.) But this was not logical. This was pure nutso emotion. And I was going to leave.

When I did, I’ll never forget how this boy looked at me. It was just total confusion. I wanted to be like, “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s just my evil brain holding me hostage again. XOXO?”

A few months later, I ran into him at a gay bar in New York. He came on to me and I was so embarrassed about what happened at Yale, so embarrassed that he may have seen just how unhinged I really was, that I shut down any possibility of a sequel.

There were other boys like him. Boys who gave me opportunities to experience something real and human, but my brain put up a Closed sign and kicked them out. Then, eventually people stopped trying.

These college visits highlighted just how all over the place I was. Getting flown to different places because people thought I had something worthwhile to say, had some kind of wisdom to impart when, in reality, I couldn’t do something as simple as spend a whole night at someone’s apartment.

The thing is, I really did believe everything I wrote, I really did believe I had something to say. Whether that was true or not seemed irrelevant because I knew that if I ever stopped writing, if I ever stopped turning to my work to make sense of my stupid rat poison brain, I would have nothing.

So I kept going. I kept writing my way out of the shame cave until eventually I was mostly out of it. It all sounds very self-helpless but it’s true!  So keep being honest. Never shut up. If you’re president of the “I Hate Myself” club  speak so loud you’re forced to resign. Your words and your work will never hurt you. THEY ARE YOUR FRONDS. Turn to them for guidance and help.

Also, be truthful about your life. I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: once you own everything, no one can take anything away from you.

[tabbysgotclaws]

In My  Line of Work - #Throwback

Wrote this shit a thousand fucking years ago (not literally, I think it was about two) but hey, figured it’d be a good way to pop this place’s cherry. Enjoy the sex and bloodshed, babes, it’s what you’re here for, right? <3

***

I've always found it funny that people like to call prostitution "the world's oldest profession." It doesn't speak all that highly of the human race's priorities, does it?

Paint on cave walls.

Discover fire.

Pay someone to fuck you senseless.

Get that in Latin, and we could engrave it at the base of every statue the world over - or better yet, build new statues, all shaped like giant brass cocks at full salute. That's the human mission statement in a nutshell right there: here, we have two types of animal, the ones with the dicks, and the ones getting fucked by them. And we will always - I repeat, always - be the ones with the dicks.

Yes indeed, the world's oldest profession.

I can think of an older one, but we'll get to that later.

It's outside of a motel called Restin' Easy that we lay our scene. Picture this: a gorgeous woman stands up against a sand-blasted brick wall, dressed to the nines in designer silks and a leather jacket. She's taking a long, sincere drag off a slender cigarette, and leaving blood-red lipstick rings on the unburnt white paper of the shaft. She's got the good looks of a 1960s movie star - a regular Audrey Hepburn in the making. Her black hair falls just above her shoulders, and sways gently in the night's breeze.

That's me.

The balding middle-aged man in the tan jacket with a face like a slapped ass, that's Dave. Yeah, Dave with the greasy skin that tosses back the neon rays of the glowing "VACANCY" sign above us. Dave the big spender, flashing the wad of hundreds in his faux-leather wallet.

Dave the asshole. Dave the John.

"Crystal recommended you to me," He says in an unbearably cocky tone, like I'm a new brand of aftershave he's been meaning to try out for a while, "She said you do things no other girl will do. That right?"

"More or less." I say, feigning a provocative grin.

When you've been in the business for as long as I have, you get pretty good at sizing up your customers with a glance. Sometimes, it's necessary to survival - you look the wrong way in this line of work and you've got a seven-inch stiletto buried between the links in your spine. Sex does weird shit to people's heads.

Dave, for all his faults, is easy to read. He wears a look of contempt, like he's too good for the situation he's putting himself in. He's wealthy, and entitled. He doesn't know why he's paying for sex - a man of his stature should be beating the ladies off with a stick, surely.

He probably sells used cars for a living, I think, suppressing a smirk.

"What can I do for you that Crystal can't, sugar?" I ask with an innocent flutter of eyelashes,

He grunts, one side of his mouth curling into a sneer.

"She was a little too...safe, for my taste."

"Too safe for you, huh? Ever considered trying to fuck a bear?"

"No, not like that. I mean, she was too vanilla. She wasn't comfortable with the things I wanted."

I raise an eyebrow and place a well-manicured hand on my hip, cocking my pelvis slightly to the side. Guys like Dave are almost like video games: once you know all the cheat codes, you're in the clear.

"Tell me, honey," I whisper to him in my most sultry drawl, "What is it that you want?"

What I expect is an answer, what I get is a grubby hundred dollar bill fumbled into my palm. Dave keeps scanning from side to side throughout, as though he's afraid of someone seeing him.

That's always a red flag.

"How about we go somewhere private, and then I'll tell you." He says, his voice oozing disdain.

I breathe a plume of smoke into his face and snuff my cigarette against the wall. On one hand, his rudeness pisses me off, on the other, I want it over with sooner rather than later.

The interior of Restin' Easy is everything that the facade would lead you to believe - old and chintzy, but with a certain charm to it, if you can look past the fine layer of sleaze. Think off-white shag carpeting, lamps that haven't been replaced since the seventies, and a pencil-moustached manager picking particles of cocaine from underneath his dirty fingernails. In short, it was my kind of place.

"Hey, John," I call to the manager with a playful smirk, "You got a room for me?"

His name isn't John, I know that much. But he reminds me of John Waters, so the name stays.

Not-really-John flashes me a grin back and fiddles with the lapel of his velvet suit, the lacquer in his hair rendered iridescent by the fizzing halogen tubes that hang above.

"Same as always?" He asks, his lisping voice softer than coffin-lining, "Number Seven's available."

I nod and he tosses me the keys, keeping Dave in tow. He's scowling like I've just spat in his face.

If anything's clear to me, it's that Davey-boy is used to better. He's a pervert with standards.

Smash-cut to room seven, an amateur porn set if ever there was one. In a certain sense, all hotel rooms - big and small, expensive and dirt cheap - feel like the same place, the same liminal area between destinations. They have the same walls, the same beds, the same dusty bibles in the bedside cabinets. Nondescript art of ports never visited and generic forestry grace the walls, and a minibar sits in the corner looking shameful, almost like it knows what it is. A shitty little robber with a conscience.

Dave looks out of place here, like he's being doctored into this image in real-time. He's still wearing that I-can-smell-rot-in-here scowl and avoiding eye contact with me for whatever reason. It doesn't exactly do wonders for my self-esteem, I'll tell you that much.

"So, uh, you ready?" I ask him, searching for an answer buried in the creases of his face, "I hope this doesn't take too long, honey. I'm hungry and the McDonald's closes at ten-thirty."

"It'll take as long as I need it to." He growls, loosening his tie.

I figure the uptight bastard would come-out a handful of sand after a perfunctory screw. He's never made love in his life - just fucked, and fucked badly.

In that moment, my hopes of having any fun tonight die on their asses.

Before I know it, he's pushing me onto the bed and starting to disrobe, revealing to me his fleshy, pale frame. There's a kind of solidness to him - not brick shithouse solid, but drying clay solid. As though with enough warmth, you could start twisting him into the right shape again.

I take off my leather jacket and shirt, and kick off my jeans, until I'm just in my bra and underwear. Without sounding too arrogant, I can tell by the look in his eyes that I'm better than he's had in years - but he's not appreciative, oh no. He looks at me the way I'm assuming Christopher Columbus looked at America - the look of a man ready to fuck shit up royally to assert his limp-dicked dominance over something beautiful.

I'd go into more detail as to what I look like without all those pesky clothes, but it'd cost you, sugar. And I don't come cheap.

Hell, with most of these guys I don't even come at all. See? Little bit of on-the-job humor, just to lighten the mood. What happens next is a little grimmer.

Once he's down to his underwear, Dave starts opening a briefcase he's brought in with him. I start wondering whether he expects me to sign a non-disclosure waiver or some shit, until I realize what he's producing from the case is a leather paddle covered in metal studs.

Naughty, naughty Dave.

"That looks painful," I giggle, fluttering my eyelashes, knowing the absence of fear would emasculate him, "I can see why Crystal turned you down. For a second, I just thought you must have had a funny-shaped dick."

For the record, his dick was of a relatively average shape and size. Nothing terrible, but not exactly remarkable either.

He just grunts, and runs his big, rough hands over the studs.

"You can't get this kind of action at home, huh?" I ask.

"Never in a million years," He says, finally turning to me, "My wife wouldn't allow it. But, then again, my wife isn't here."

He chuckles like a bad villain from a sixties movie would chuckle.

"Y'know, I've seen a lot of hookers, but none of them have been quite as mouthy as you," He says, taking tentative steps towards me as his erection began to bloom in anticipation, "I like that. Breaking you is gonna be a challenge."

I climb further back onto the bed, edging towards the pillows. The quilt feels cheap and rough on my skin - though I don't exactly have any high expectations for Restin' Easy. I don't come here for the comfort, after all.

"Word of advice, Davey-boy," I say with a salacious wink, "Take me before you break me. It'll make the beating more satisfying, don't you think?"

He doesn't say a word, refusing to concede to me, but he agrees. There's a soft thump as the paddle falls to the ground, and he crawls across the bed to me like a goddamn puppy.

I'd have laughed if I wasn't so excited for what comes next.

As expected, the sex is boring. For a man who carries a spiked paddle around in his briefcase like Patrick fucking Bateman, he's got a surprisingly dull preference for the missionary position - a position I'd always thought of as the mayonnaise of sex: good when you're in the mood for it, but too much of it and you lose the will to live.

He does tug my hair, though. I find that a little annoying, especially considering the price of having your hair done these days.

Once he's done and his body practically coughs into mine (thank god for condoms, or I would have caught his cold) he just collapses onto me, gasping and exhausted. It'd take another hour before the sad bastard would have enough energy to beat me.

And I've never been all that patient.

"Wow, slick," I find myself saying, with all the enthusiasm of a text-to-speech generator, "That really was something."

"Y'think?" He asks, wanting me to stroke his ego.

"Well, normally good sex can leave me satisfied," I muse, "But that just left me hungrier."

He gives an annoyed grunt and tries to hoist himself up, still awkwardly straddling me while he does it.

My painted lips are pursed into a tight grin, while my teeth begin growing from my gums and sharpening into vicious points. I have a mouth full of scalpels, and poor, ignorant Dave is none the wiser. This is something I've done before, so I know how to keep it hidden right up until the moment it all ends.

That moment, my dear readers, is now.

Without warning, I grab Dave by the fat folds on the back of his big, sweaty head and pull his face down towards me. My lips curl up over my teeth into a manic, open-mouth smile, showing him the piranha thing I had going on inside.

"Carol sends her regards." I hiss through my fangs with a cruel giggle.

There's a glimmer of terrible recognition in his eyes when I say that name. The universal look of "oh fuck, I've been caught" is plastered liberally across his face. The vain little turd looks terrified before he's even noticed my fangs, or that I've cribbed my one-liner from Game of Thrones.

He doesn't get a chance to respond. Within the next second, I've pulled him down further and clamped my jaws around his thick, piggish neck. He thrashes, but I wrap my legs around his waist and grab his arms, completely immobilizing him.

When I'm not hiding my strength, he's nothing to me.

Dave thrashes weakly while twin geysers of blood evacuate his throat, giving me a warm, refreshing drink - like coppery cocoa, that's always made me feel a little better about it.

It doesn't take him long to die, and when he does, the real feeding starts.

I'll admit, I have a tendency to black out when I'm in the middle of a good meal - like a premature food coma, you see? But, when I come back to the land of the living, I can see by the radium-green numbers on the bedside alarm clock that it's only taken me about fifteen minutes to do the damage I'd done.

When I looked down onto the remains of Dave Whatshisname, I see there's only bones left, and that I'm wearing a stylish, crimson apron courtesy of my meal.

Then, it hits me how full I'm feeling, and I collapse back onto the bed.

Cheap quilts. Easy to replace when there's spillage.

"Dave, you irritating fucker," I say with a groan, poking my bloated stomach, "If I can't button my goddamn jeans after this, I'm charging your wife extra."

Crap. That reminds me.

I lean over, feeling another pain deep in my belly as I do so, and grabbed my phone out of the pocket of my discarded jeans.

Carol. Carol. Carol. I've got her on speed dial.

When she picks up, she just says, "Is it done?"

"What? No 'hello'? Most people are polite to their hired killers, lady."

My indigestion is so bad that I barely have the strength to be sarcastic - oh, who am I kidding? I always have the strength to be sarcastic.

"Just tell me if my shitbag husband is dead."

I give an agonized groan as my stomach gurgles, as though dearly deceased Dave was protesting.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Dead, devoured, digesting. Whatever. You paid me yet?"

There's a long sigh down the receiver. Most people have that reaction when they find out I've murdered their husbands, but - to my credit - I never do it without being asked.

They need people dead, and I need to eat. Seems a fair trade to me.

"The money should be in your account."

"Sweet! And it couldn't have come at a better time, Carol. After your lard-ass husband, I'm probably gonna go up a fucking dress size. You owe me for my new wardrobe."

"You don't have to eat them, you know." She says, trying to pretend she's above it all.

"You're saying that from a human perspective. I'm not human, and ergo, we have different dietary needs," I say, wincing again from the pain, "But if you're satisfied with your service, I'm gonna save the biology lesson for when your husband isn't killing me from the inside. Okay?"

"I guess..."

"I need to hear you say it, Carol."

She sighs. Again.

"I am satisfied with my service. Thank you."

"You're welcome. Bye."

I hang up on her unceremoniously and collapse back onto the bed, throwing my phone to the side.

"Ten thou isn't enough for this shit." I groan again, my stomach ache ebbing and worsening as though on some kind of nonsensical schedule.

"Jesus Christ, look at this mess you've made!" I hear a shrill, effeminate voice ring out from the doorway, "I thought I told you to lay down a plastic tarp when you're doing your weird, hitwoman stuff!"

It's John. Not-really-John.

I find myself rolling my eyes at him, as he sashays into the room with a plastic bag and starts picking up the bones.

"That'll blow my cover, John," I say, like it's the most obvious thing in the world, "I'm posing as a sex worker. You know that. And nobody wants to have sex in a room that looks like the interior designer was Dexter Morgan. It's a pretty major boner dethroner."

John just shrugs and carries on picking up the bones. I always give him a little cut of the proceeds, so he doesn't mind doing some of the cleanup - I ate most of the mess, after all. And now, I'm just laying there, on the precipice of an actual food coma.

I love a happy ending, don't you?

Like I was saying earlier, I've always found it funny that people like to call prostitution "the world's oldest profession." After all, it's not just corny, it's patently untrue.

Before people even dreamt of paying to fuck someone else, they were paying to have them killed. And that, my dear readers, is why I'll always be in business, and why cheaters never prosper.

[mandibierly]

Why social media is the biggest issue teen TV should tackle

Katherine Langford as Hannah Baker in 13 Reasons Why. (Photo: Netflix/Courtesy Everett Collection)

Andi Mack creator Terri Minsky doesn’t feel it’s her place to tell any other showrunner what they should be doing on their series, but she does understand why Yahoo Entertainment reached out to television producers to ask which issue they’d like to see more shows address for teen and family audiences.

“TV shows are a message, a warning, from one generation to the next, about how not to do things,” Minsky says. “My generation thought high school was supposed to be the best four years of your life, so obviously there was something wrong with you if they turned out to be the most miserable. Kids who hated high school grew up to write Freaks and Geeks, and Daria, and Glee, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, so the next generation came prepared, fully informed on what an emotional and psychological cesspool high school really was. Now, TV writers are trying to clear the forest of homophobia, xenophobia, racism, violence, rape, addictions… There’s a lot to do, and unfortunately, right now, this list grows longer by the day, sometimes by the hour.”

In this age of Peak TV, many producers echo the words of The Fosters showrunner Peter Paige: “I think we have an incredible opportunity at this moment in time, with the breadth of programming going on, to explore all the issues that teenagers today wrestle with — sex, drugs, the internet, social media, guns — without talking down to them.” The Vampire Diaries‘ Julie Plec lists a broad array: “Just like the rainbow coalition of normal human issues, whether it be depression and therapy, sexuality, gender dynamics, race dynamics.” 13 Reasons Why‘s Brian Yorkey gives more of a mission statement: “I would love to see more shows that speak honestly and personally and unflinchingly to some of the difficult things teens face on a daily basis, and not in a way necessarily that seeks to educate adults, but in a way that seeks to honor the experience of teenagers and to let them know that — as much as they may be feeling they’re the only kid going through it — they’re really not alone.”

But as we sorted the responses to our “Why Teen TV Matters” showrunner survey, we noticed one recurring theme:

Social Media

The Middle‘s Eileen Heisler cuts right to the chase: “I think the issue of social media is one that has impacted today’s teens in ways we don’t even fully understand yet. I think the effects of social media usage on teens is a current health crisis and something television should address.”

Heather Wordham, creator of Netflix’s Alexa & Katie, recalls something she heard recently explaining the pathology: “The point that was made that really stuck with me was that before social media, any teenager who felt bullied or like they weren’t enough at school always had a reprieve from that when they went home at the end of the day and could get away from some of those feelings of inadequacy. But with social media, that influence is now 24 hours a day. Anytime a kid checks out their social media, no matter what time it is or where they are, they risk facing those challenges and feelings.”

This is a particularly timely discussion for Pretty Little Liars creator I. Marlene King, who, by the way, doesn’t limit the damage being done to just teenagers adding to the conversation: “Young people and adults have forgotten that words matter. They can inspire but they can also inflict deep and impactful wounds. When you hate anonymously on social media, your words still land hard and cause pain. Social media bullying is an epidemic in this country and we need to address it in our storylines. We need to show the bullies how it feels to be bullied. And we need to show kids who are being bullied solutions and ways to rise above the hate. I’d also like to see more storylines exploring the stress of needing to be popular on social media. It’s adding another layer to what success looks like to young people, and their need to be perfect at everything. We’re exploring these issues in our new show, Pretty Little Liars: The Perfectionists.”

Awkward creator Lauren Iungerich (whose next series is Netflix’s On My Block) might have a suggestion: focusing on “self-compassion over self-esteem.”

“Self-esteem suggests that in order to win someone has to lose. And when you promote self-compassion, you are telling people to find a connection even in failure. That there are lessons to be learned when you don’t win. That when you don’t win, you actually connect with everyone else who is also not winning. And in that common connection, you find community,” she says. “I feel like our society is driven by so much self-importance that community has been lost. Being part of a fully-realized, supportive, and inclusive community is where we really flourish as a society. And I wish more shows would promote that idea.”

Buffy creator Joss Whedon would watch them: “The stories I’m looking for are about the kids who aren’t beautiful, sculpted, sexy leaders and stars,” he says. “I’m always interested in the people who get ignored and get by anyway. (And look like they’re still in high school.)”

So, too, would Dan Perrault (Netflix’s American Vandal), who wants to see the labels that divide us disappear: “I think it’s getting a lot better, but in general I’d like to see less stereotyping and categorizing of teens. It seems like in real life we’re moving away from the idea of jocks, nerds, cool kids, and losers. We don’t all fit in a box, so I hope teen TV reflects that.”

Embracing our differences would help bring back what One Day at a Time co-showrunner Mike Royce believes is missing: “Portraying empathy is so important. For identity, representation, privilege… any storyline that can convey an understanding of people who are not necessarily exactly like you. Their problems, their struggles,” he says. “The kicker is, it’s all relatable no matter who you are. But empathy is becoming a lost feeling and we need to be finding it.”

There is hope

Funnily enough, the most optimistic outlook on the issues facing this generation may come from the co-creator of Netflix’s Everything Sucks! , Michael Mohan. “One of the most rewarding aspects of making this show was being able to hang out with these teenagers outside of filming. And it was so illuminating because I feel like so many articles about this current generation of teenagers take a pessimistic stance. You read about teenagers being addicted to technology — personally, I think teenagers today have a much healthier relationship with their phones than most of my adult friends have. Our cast wasn’t glued to their phones at all whatsoever,” he says. “You read about them being emotionally distant — but I actually think they’re more in touch with their own vulnerability than prior generations. And I think they feel far more empowered than anyone is giving them credit for. So while our show is set in the “olden days” of the 1990s (the same distance from when The Wonder Years took place and when it aired), I would love to see a straight-up honest, vampire-free story about what it’s like in high school right now, so that teenagers can see themselves represented onscreen accurately, and so that adults have a window into how amazing this generation actually is.”

Peyton Kennedy and Jahi Di’Allo Winston in Everything Sucks! (Photo: Scott Patrick Green/Netflix)

Katie Elmore Mota, executive producer of Hulu’s East Los High, has her own list of priorities — safety, equal access to education, issues around sex and relationships — but she, too, thinks what is most important is listening to the teens you are writing about. “We need to ask them what matters most to them, and what stories or characters would they like to see on television that they maybe haven’t seen yet, what is on their minds. We did this with every season of East Los High and we always learned so much. I think it really helped us ground the show and keep it relevant,” she says. “And overall, I think one of the most important things in life is to feel seen and heard. I hope that more and more teens feel that they are seeing themselves in mainstream media, that they see representations of themselves that they can relate to and that they feel that their stories matter. And to validate their feelings and challenges, and remind teens that every day is a new day, so never lose hope or give up. My mom always said ‘this too shall pass,’ and that’s true for both the highs and the lows in life.”

That kind of communication is what One Day at Time co-showrunner Gloria Calderon Kellett hopes to see more of: “I think parents start to get afraid of their kids and don’t know what to say to them. And on our show, we try to show that it’s hard and awkward and you don’t always say that perfect, elegant thing. But it’s the doing that is important,” she says. “Penelope always goes right in there and talks to her kids. I think it’s good for both parents and kids to see that.”

Read more from Yahoo Entertainment:

Show creator looks back at 4 decades of ‘Degrassi,’ from abortion to Drake

Joss Whedon on Parkland students: ‘I’ve been writing about kids like these for a long while. I thought I was writing fantasy.’

‘My So-Called Life’ and ‘Parenthood’ creators on Parkland teens ‘changing the conversation’ on TV and in real life