#ive only got ten slots guys

[astronomical-bagel]

its insane to me how vitriolic people can be on a post about colors.

[daedalusdavinci]

Superbat Fic Recs

every superbat fic ive ever read has been recommended to me, almost, bc the superbat tag scares the absolute piss out of me, so these are like. twice over recommended. i dont believe that theres such a thing as "in character" when it comes to bruce or clark bc theyve been characterized so many different ways, so i tend to rate how good superbat fics are entirely by how delightful they are to read (plot, writing style, fun dynamic, etc). that said here are some of the superbat fics that i find the most delightful

The Long Hangover

by CoffioCake

Clark knows he should take a break: His powers are on the fritz, he feels like shit, and Batman’s treating him like a liability. But Gotham's villains seem to have it in for Metropolis' Big Blue Boy Scout and Clark won't just wait around for answers. Batman might be the world’s greatest detective, but Clark Kent is one of the Daily Planet’s most tenacious reporters. This is definitely a job for Superman.

i love this one. its long but its got so many good beats- good plot, fun dialogue, fantastic levels of identity porn where you are just DYING for them to figure it out. i think a lot of superbat fics tend to prioritize batman and his family and cast too much, but this ones definitely about superman, which is a nice change of pace

Nor The Rain

by Romany (@romanyeva on tumblr)

Bruce decides it's time.

this ones short but its cute and so sweet. its been a while since i read it, but i remember loving the writing

Rescue and Recover

by OdosBucket

The bats have spent the better part of the past two months in captivity, and Clark is grateful to finally have them back, even if it will still be some time before any of them are recovered from the experience.

this one drove me CRAZY the first time i read it. i was so obsessed w the absolutely married dynamic bruce and clark have in this, and its good if you really like batfam whump

certain obscure things

by @liodain

Bruce seeks to mend in the wake of Superman's death. Fortunately, Superman doesn't believe in staying dead. Unfortunately, Bruce isn't certain how to deal with this—especially with how easily Clark slots into his life. All he knows is that an encounter with the Enchantress is definitely not the way to go.

im not a synderverse fan but it remains that some of the best and most fun superbat fics to read are synderverse. love what the girlies are doing with those old men. this one is really fun, particularly in how it handles bruces grief and what its like to grieve someone who isnt gone

fame is the bait (and the switch is your desolate smile)

by nowrunalong (@buffyfemslash on tumblr)

"Superman,” Wayne says emphatically. "Now there’s an interesting guy. The concept of wealth probably doesn’t even register to an alien who could throw a whole skyscraper into the sea if he was in a snit.” It’s almost hilariously ironic that Wayne is saying this here, in Clark’s place of employment, where Clark works ten-hour shifts to earn enough tip money to pay rent on a one-bedroom apartment. “He’s gotta live somewhere,” Clark points out. Or: Clark meets Bruce, and then Superman meets Bruce Wayne. Neither is entirely fooled.

speaking of synderverse. this ones also a lot of fun! its a lot of bruce being antagonistic in the beginning and clark being a total golden retriever, which is pretty on beat for the enemies to lovers type dynamic that i always see in synderverse fics.

I'm Not As Think As You Drunk I Am

by Mardiaz173

It was like living in the Twilight Zone. Everyone else believed fervently in Bruce Wayne’s reputation. He was a flirty, stupid, and entitled drunk whose only redeeming quality was his bleeding heart. And yet every time Clark spoke with Wayne, the man was clever, mischievous, and sober with an indecipherable ulterior motive. And no one believed Clark. Not Lois, not his parents, not even Batman.

bruce is such a ridiculous ass in this and its kind of hilarious. identity porn galore. its a fun read!

Send to All

by kerosceene

I, ___________________________, hereby acknowledge that this form represents my wishes should I contract phytoaphrodisiac-induced delirium (hereafter referred to as “PAID”) during engagements with or while apprehending Dr. Pamela Lillian Isley (“Poison Ivy”). - the bats have a sex pollen release form. because of course they do.

this ones really more batfamily and i just. listen. i think this is the funniest fic ever written, maybe. it makes me sob every single time. im not going to say anything else but you should just read it and trust me

[opinions-about-tiaras]

Pure cringe seems  like a big overstatement; the only really huge howler I'm seeing in here is Aegon III, who absolutely belongs in the top ten. In fact, I'd give him Viserys I’s spot.

Beyond that, though, this list is HIGHLY accurate and defensible, not pure cringe at all. There’s always quibbling over where to specifically put people but I think the broad tranches are accurate. Like... okay. There’s almost twenty if you count Rheanyra. Let’s break this down a bit.

The top five have an easy three picks; if you don’t have Jaehaerys I, Aegon the Conqueror, and Viserys II in there you’re probably just wrong. Viserys needs to be given a ton of credit for his time as Hand because his reign was so short and he did so little in it, but I feel like that’s very reasonable, and even if you don’t give him credit for that, he devoted his time in the office to things like reforming the Code Jaehaerys and doing stuff like coinage reform; those are the sine qua non of effective, well-intentioned monarchs. You might need to ding him for fucking up the succession, especially if you’re also dinging Viserys I for doing so.

Rounding out the top five... I’d absolutely put Daeron II and Aegon V in there. I’m aware you specifically have a dim view of Daeron the Good and that you have some harsh criticisms of Aegon the Unlikely’s effectiveness... but by the same taken, I’m also having trouble finding anyone on the list I’d bump up above them, because these rankings are relative and bumping someone down means finding someone better. Maybe Jaehaerys II, Maekar, or Aegon III... all of whom are in the top ten. So even there, this list isn’t out of line.

So that’s top five. So far so good. Top ten!

For the second five, your “basically competent, basically meant well” kings largely rule the roost, with one “wow, you sucked, but there isn’t anyone better” king showing up at the tail end. If you didn’t put Daeron II and Aegon V in the top five they’d go in here. If you did, though... this is where you’re gonna find Maekar, Jaehaerys II, Aegon III, and Viserys I.

Let’s talk about Viserys I for a second. His grandson should absolutely be above him, but his overall general ranking here is, I think, correct, and not cringe at all, because... who are you going to bump above him who isn’t already there, precisely?

Both of his kids are already down in the dumps with the shitty kings, where they belong. Daeron I? Even if you dump the entirety of the responsibility for the Dance on Viserys’ head, Daeron I is still much worse; he got far more people killed for no good reason. Viserys at least presided over three decades of peace and plenty; Daeron did... not.

Either Aerys? Ahahaha no. Aerys II is a top contender for worst Targaryen monarch. (I wouldn’t put him there but he’s in contention for it.) And Aerys I is an incompetent dreamer; Viserys I might have liked to party but he paid attention to the realm and picked more able subordinates than Bloodraven; Otto Hightower and Lyonel Strong were both top-tier Hands. For this reason I think he’s also bumped above Baelor.

Maegor? Aegon IV? I’d like to think we can both agree Viserys I is better than either of them. 

That just leaves Jaehaerys II and Aegon III. Jaehaerys II is only one spot behind Viserys on this list already, so the list is still doing okay. Aegon III, I absolutely agree is being done hard here; he should edge his grandpa and shove Aerys I out of the top ten.

I personally am a big booster of Aegon III. He made some terrible choices, but he took the job seriously and he had some iron in him. That moment on the ramparts of Maegor’s Holdfast when, as a child king, he faced down traitorous Kingsguard and rogue, self-appointed Hands and managed to prevail by nothing more than dignity and the power of his office and bloodline... that was a test of kingship many other kings of his house would not have risen to meet.

Rounding out the top ten... this is when you start getting the shitty guys. The last slot I have to give, grudgingly, to Daeron I. The Young Dragon is not my favorite Targaryen King; I find him highly overrated both out of universe and especially in-universe. But much like Viserys I, I cannot, for the life of me, find anyone to put above him. He at least was a charismatic leader of men and was victorious on the field of battle, even if he was terrible at the more important parts of kinging and ultimately lost his idiot war. That bumps him over people like Aerys I.

So that’s the top ten. So far this list is looking pretty good.

For the bottom eight, you descend into the shittiest scions the dynasty has to offer. Ironically, I think its actually harder to rank these guys than it is the kings that had a modicum of competence; their shittiness is harder to compare to the good kings... goodness, I guess.

So for slots eleven through fifteen... this is going to start, in my mind, with Aerys I, Baelor, and Aenys. I have no specific thought as to what precise order those three should be in, but this should be their general position; they meant well, but were SO incompetent that that well-meaning cancels out nearly everything else. They occupy that twilight area between kings who actually had some value-adds and those who were actively malicious and insane.

Fourteen and fifteen are Rhaenyra and her brother. Again, I have no dog in the fight as to specific order, but this is where they belong, and the ONLY reason they make it this high is because their competition is Maegor, Aerys II, and Aegon IV.

And then in the bottom you have the absolute dregs, Maegor, Aerys II, and Aegon IV. Any one of those three is a completely defensible pick for “worst Targaryen monarch.” I personally give that distinction to Maegor, but Aerys II isn’t something I’d argue with.

So yeah, this list is looking pretty good to me. “Only one real egregious howler” is pretty good for this sort of thing. Its far from the worst fan list I’ve ever seen.

An online article on Fansided ranked the Targaryen monarchs. 1. Jaehaerys I - 2. Aegon I - 3. Viserys II - 4. Daeron II - 5. Aegon V - 6. Maekar - 7. Viserys I - 8. Jaehaerys II - 9. Daeron I - 10. Aerys I - 11. Baelor - 12. Aenys - 13. Rhaenyra - 14. Aegon III - 15. Aegon II - 16. Aerys II - 17. Maegor - 18. Aegon IV. Any thoughts?

Pure cringe.

Any ranking that ranks Rhaenyra, who butchered her own people, over Aegon III, who tried his best to rule them fairly, is not something to take seriously. Someone who highly ranks Viserys I, who threw away good rule for decadence and civil war, is not one to take seriously.

Thanks for that, Anon. I need to rinse my brain.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[otptings]

Spa Day

✏︎Idols: Zhong Chenle & Park Jisung

✏︎Requested: yessss by my fav Heyyy ive just been feeling really lonely lately so could you just write something about jisung and chenle just wanting to cuddle and watch a movie with the reader cause it’s been a really stressful week so they just want a self care day with the reader like face masks and the reader makes them food her dad used to make her when she was little ( coxinha ) and they eat the food while watching a scary movie hopefully I’m not making you too busy haha thanks in advance

✏︎Genre: Fluff, Bestfriend!Chenji

✏︎Word Count: 1k+

✏︎Warnings: None

✏︎Synopsis: Your best friends deserve more credit then you give them, especially when they force you to take a well deserve spa day.

✏︎A/n: Cute shit, was mainly written without a script. Correction, attempted to write the script but ended up writing over half of it instead in one go. It's short but I really didn't want to overwhelm this fluff. It's really cute, and I love it so much, I just love Chenle and Jisung's friendship, so writing them extend that friendship was incredibly cute 🥺if you liked this please reblog, like, or donate to my Ko-Fi in my bio. If you liked this requests are open for NCT, SVT, Treasure, and Enhypen (few slots open).

“Why are you two always dragging me around?”

Jisung and Chenle ignored your whining as they forced you to sit on your couch. You were trying to work but the boys walked into your apartment - kinda regret giving them the emergency key - and dragged you away from your desk. Jisung saved your work but then proceeded to place your laptop on a shelf that only he could reach unassisted, sealing your fate of not being able to work.

“Don’t move.” Jisung ran off somewhere down the hall while Chenle watched you over, presumably to make sure you didn’t move.

“What if I want to?” Chenle only stared at you with dead eyes and you quickly smiled, ignoring the fact that you felt kinda threatened. “Nevermind.” Mumbling you grabbed one of your decorative pillows, playing with the tassels while Chenle sat on his phone.

“FOUND IT!” You both jumped at Jisung’s yelling, confusion setting in at what he could’ve found. Your question was answered two minutes later when Jisung turned the corner, three fluffy spa headbands in one hand and three of your paper face masks in the other, a bright smile on his face at his find.

“Why were you looking for them?” Chenle snatched your phone from your hand, placing it in his backpack before you were even able to complain. “Hey! Why do y’all keep taking my stuff?”

“We’re having a spa day.” You were sure you weren’t good at hiding your expression if the way Jisung’s face went red had anything to do with it. “You’ve been working a lot. We haven’t been able to hang out often.”

Your face softened at that realization. One look at Chenle and you saw that the feeling was mutual.

“We miss you. We’re idols with busy schedules, but you’ve been so occupied that we haven’t even been able to see you. You don’t join us on the game, join our face times, and you barely respond. Plus you look skinnier as if you haven’t been eating, and I know you haven’t been sleeping properly.” Guilt flooded you at Chenle’s concerned expression. You hadn’t realized they noticed your disappearance that badly, just assumed that since they were in the middle of a comeback it would be swept under the rug.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Now we’re here to take care of you.” You hadn't realized Jisung had crossed the room until he placed a hand on your shoulder. Sighing you nuzzled your cheek into his forearm.

“Thank you.” Chenle visibly grimaced at the sweetness, instead grabbing the masks from Jisung.

“Yea, yea. Let’s just get this over with.” It took ten minutes for the three of you to stop arguing over who got which masks - Jisung was determined to get the mask with the puppy on it, Chenle said he had Daegal so he deserved the puppy mask - and actually properly place them on the two. Chenle won the argument, much to Jisung’s displeasure so he got the puppy mask while Jisung was stuck with the panda mask. It didn’t matter because by the time all three of you had your masks on - you were graced with the bunny mask - you were giggling so hard at how funny you looked that they barely stayed on. Since none of you had your phones on you, you were doomed to just make fun of eachother until the masks dried and you had to peel them off of your face.

The doorbell rang as you threw the masks away. Jisung practically pushed you out of the way to answer it, “Go pick out a movie with Chenle.” Ignoring his strange behavior you decided to follow his advice, heading back to the living room and plopping down on the couch. To your surprise Chenle picked the movie you suggested, a movie that all three of you had watched on one too many occasions. It wasn’t until you were both on the couch, covered with one of your fluffy blankets that you realized Jisung still wasn’t back.

“What is he doing?” Chenle only shrugged, pausing the movie before nearly deafening you as he screamed for Jisung.

“Wait. You’re so impatient.” Jisung mumbled while he walked back into the living room, holding a tray covered with snacks. The center of the tray however held something you didn’t even know they were aware of.

“Where’d you get this?” As Jisung placed the tray on the coffee table you leaned closer, making sure that you were seeing it right. Coxinha. How did they even know about it? You’d mentioned it in passing months ago while talking about your dad when you were home sick. You didn’t even think that they’d remember it, but here they were, set up nicely on one of your plates.

“I found a place that makes them specially. Though you’d like them?”

“You’d talked about them before, and you’ve been so down lately so we ordered some.”

“Do you like them?” Glancing between the boys, both who looked nervous you couldn’t but burst into tears. If your heart wasn’t so filled with love for your best friend you would’ve laughed at their panicking, Chenle placing blame on Jisung, who struggled to pull out tissues to gently wipe away your tears.

“I love them.” Both of them let out a sigh, glad that they didn’t mess up the day specially meant for you.

“Why are you crying?” Chenle smacked Jisung, starting up another argument between them. Shaking your head you pulled both of them into a hug.

“I love you guys.” If you looked up at that moment, you would’ve seen the great, unmovable Chenle’s face go bright red as he was left speechless. Jisung was no better, but he was easy to fluster. Both of the boys awkwardly wrapped their arms around you until your cries were only sniffles. When you looked back up with swollen eyes, and tear tracks staining your cheeks both of them felt the same warmth fill their hearts, grateful that they were able to make you happy.

“Love you too.” Chenle halfheartedly muttered, before playfully pushing you away from him. The three of you spent the night curled up on the couch, watching cheesy comedy movies, and eating all of the snacks they brought. Your heart stayed full, warmth flooding your body as you thought of how grateful you were to have the most thoughtful best friends in your life.

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 1]

this idea was stolen from @iam93percentstardust cuz i just,,,thought that this year was absolute shit and it would be nice to make a fic rec list of fics from this year that helped me through it. this will be over a range of fandoms and ships, but all fics were written this year. 

fics are ordered by the month they were published. ive tried to keep to five fics per month, but this is not obviously all the fics ive read that month - i just didn’t want to make this insanely long. 

im releasing the first half of this on the 1st of December, and the second half on the 1st of January 2021 - because otherwise it would just get so long (and also so i will actually have fics for December)

happy reading!! hopefully you find fics on this you haven’t read yet

***

January

The cat is mighty dignified (until the dog comes by): @five-wow

Steve and Danny find them on the pillow in the corner of the dining area, where Eddie is on his side, ass half on the floor because the pillow is more cat-sized than lab-sized, and Pickles is nestled between Eddie’s front legs, essentially being spooned and looking very I-got-the-cream about it. Pickles’ head is tucked into the crook of Eddie’s neck and Eddie’s head slots perfectly on top of Mr. Pickles’, like a furry jigsaw puzzle.

“They’re cuddling,” Steve points out, unnecessarily.

Or: There is a love story unfolding under the McGarrett roof.

Captain ‘Socialist Rage Muffin’ America: @baffledkingcomposinghallelujah

It takes three months of dating Steve Rogers for Tony to understand why Aunt Peggy once shot at him in sheer frustration.

Alternately titled, Honey, I committed treason again.

The Best Laid Plans (Of Mice and Men): @arboreal-elm-ash-oak

His Dark Materials AU

It was Annalise who noticed their small visitor first.

“Tony,” the spider daemon said softly, skittering up the collar of his dress shirt, two of her eight legs resting delicately against his cheek, “Don’t startle them, but I believe we have a guest. Look, by the coffee table.”

Fourteen Million to One: @tunastorks

Six months after Thanos, six months after Tony’s death, six months after Steve returns to his own timeline, Tony Stark turns up on their doorstep.

Brewed Awakening: @iam93percentstardust

Two years after he comes out of the ice, Steve is drifting through life. On his teammate's recommendation, he decides to go back to school where he meets the grandson of an old friend. He finds happiness with Tony but Steve won't be in Boston forever and someone is out to hurt the Starks. Will Steve and Tony be able to reach their happily ever after?

February

the young, the reckless and the foolish: @bruciewayne

In most universes, they don't know each other, not in the slightest, or they hate each other, in a way that's perfectly logical for anyone who were to find themselves in a similar situation.

In this one, they've known each other since they were four years old and naively idealistic.

This is them over the years, against the odds.

a giant sign: @areiton

“Think you can get him to open the weapons division up again?” his CO asks, his voice hungry and Rhodey laughs because this--

“No. Tony hung up his weapons.”

“That’s not what the suit says,” his CO objects, and Rhodey shrugs.

Tony has always had rules, rules he expects the entire world to live by.

And then there was Rhodey, slipping under them.

my heart is driftwood, floating down your coast: @nethandrake

Tonight, there’s a stranger in his backseat. That’s not unusual.

He’s also sad. That’s not unusual either.

What is unusual is that the stranger is silent.

(One night, a stranger enters Steve's taxi. Nothing is the same again.)

Just A Cold: @/delighted 

There’s a new text waiting for him. It’s from Steve of course, and it’s vaguely threatening as most messages from Steve are these days. Still Danny ignores it, and now he’s really playing with fire. Maybe it’ll burn the cold out of him.

Or, Danny’s sick, and Steve can’t stay away. The usual comfort fluff. With a little cameo from a gently meddling Grace.

An Unexpected Guide: @/Rachel500

Danny Williams has hidden his Guide status to keep being a detective, but his time of hiding is up when he unexpectedly finds his Sentinel, Steve McGarrett in the midst of a tragedy.

March

Why don’t we (Collide the spaces that divide us): @five-wow

When they finally catch sight of each other again through the milling crowds, they’re both a little worse for wear. Danny’s left side is covered in glitter and every time he brushes a hand over his hair, more blue and purple confetti rains down. Steve is- Well, Steve is randomly shirtless, which is all things considered not excessively remarkable, but he’s also covered in smudges of colorful paint and has a very nicely printed bloodred lipstick kiss mark on his cheek.

“What did you do?” Danny asks, because it looks like Steve had a lot more fun than he did.

Or: Steve and Danny accidentally end up in the middle of something entirely new.

A Little Unsteady: @finduilasclln 

Written for the Tumblr prompt meme : "Hey! I was gonna eat that!"

Tony lashes out at Bucky for eating his dessert. Only, it really isn't about the dessert.

a national treasure: @starklysteve

Steve isn't looking for an apple and Tony decides his passion is to inspire young souls. -x- OR: the AU where Tony is a Youtuber and Steve is Captain America and somehow they still save the world together.

April

cycle through: @ambivalentmarvel

Twenty-five years ago, Tony Stark disappeared from his family home a month after the tragic deaths of his parents, Howard and Maria Stark, leaving a billion-dollar tech conglomerate without an heir and the world wondering what happened.

Twenty-three years ago, HYDRA gained another super soldier.

Ten years ago, Peter Parker’s parents died in what is ruled as a home invasion gone wrong but he knows was murder, plain and simple, because he spoke to the killer.

And in the present, Project Insight fails, and the Iron Soldier pays the price.

FOREVER-LOVE YOU-I: @/Eudoxia

Tony Stark is twenty-one when he loses his voice. It shouldn't matter, but in a world where the first words your Soulmate says to you are marked on your skin, it can be pretty damn annoying.

Especially for Tony's soulmate.

--

Companion piece to my fic Thumb, Index, and Pinky Extended. This is Steve's POV, with a few extra scenes, as a treat.

(Edit: Sorry if you guys get multiple notifications for this. I just realized (about two hours after posting it) that I fucked up the grammar in the title and I HAD to fix it. YOLO, I guess.)

come build a home out of me: @maguna-stxrk

Steve clears his throat.

“What if I went with you?” he asks nonchalantly, like his heart isn’t threatening to beat out of his ribcage.

Tony blinks a few times, looking at Steve, his mouth ajar. “As a— As my date?”

“Yeah.” Steve nods, feeling a little breathless.

“You don’t mind?” Tony furrows his eyebrows.

“I don’t. In fact, you can just tell them I’m your boyfriend. I’m sure they’ll back off, wouldn’t they?”

What.

“I— Huh?” Tony stares at him, brown eyes blown wide open.

What. What. What.

“Huh? Uh, I mean— You know, that way people will see that you have definitely moved on. Monica will see that you have moved on. Right?” Steve smiles, hoping that it masks his inner panic, because what?

Steve Rogers, what have you done?

i don’t have a choice (but i’d still choose you): @nethandrake

There’s a name inked onto his chest, a name written in an all-too familiar scrawl. And it’s— It’s—

Steve doesn’t realize his body is quaking until he’s tracing the tattoo with a shaky finger.

Because of course that is the name etched into the skin. Like a brand, a reminder for everything he has done. An appropriate retribution.

Anthony Edward Stark.

(When Thanos snaps half of the universe away, he unknowingly leaves the other half with soulmarks.)

ua haʻalele ʻoe iaʻu (a ua hoʻomālamalama ʻoe iaʻu): @just-fandomthings

"The truth is, I was shot in the chest and nearly died, and not even three days after I was released from the hospital, you up and left-- and of those two, I'm not sure which one hurt me worse!"

(Coda to 10x22 because come on, we all need a better ending than the one given to us.)

Title loosely translates to: "You left me in the dark (you lit me up)" -- inspired by the brilliant song "Say You Won't Let Go" by James Arthur

May

A Piece Of The Past: @hddnone

It had been so many years since Bucky had gone undercover in the Stark family's mob, he thought he'd gotten away clean.

Then Tony Stark slid into the seat across from him at his breakfast diner, and Bucky's boss has a new case for him.

the privilege of loving you: @starklysteve

“Why won’t you let me touch you?”

It’s a desperate plea, half-shouted and half-whispered, Steve’s voice cracking at the end. Tony stops in his tracks, halfway to the stairs. He doesn’t dare to turn back, and he really doesn’t want to fight, or to leave, to spend the last month of his life away from his husband and their son. But Steve can’t know, can he?

-x-

Or: Tony has palladium poisoning, but he doesn't tell Steve and Peter

your pillow feels so soft now (but still you must advance): @firebrands

When Bruce is 13, he decides to go to boarding school. It's an opportunity for him to learn about other people, and how to interact with them.

Bruce has the misfortune of meeting Tony Stark upon his arrival in Roxbury. Bruce is moving into his room, and Tony opens the door of his room to watch. He looks a bit younger than Bruce, hair wild and eyes bright. Bruce has never seen a boy like him before—handsome and confident.

Bruce doesn’t like it.

IMPORTANT: This fic has them meeting at 14, then progresses slowly until they’re 17. Includes underage drinking and kissing.

This is set before Bruce becomes Batman and Tony becomes Iron Man and I have no explanation as to how or why they just DO Canonically, Bruce is 17 when he finishes school and goes around the world to train, so we're sticking with that

The Real MVP: @sword-and-stars (part of a series)

[“I have saved this Tuesday!” Sokka announces, rattling the bag upon reentry.

Zuko doesn’t even look up from his phone as he deadpans, “It’s Thursday.”

Okay, so Sokka is still having trouble getting his days right without checking. At least he’s gone back to sleeping at night! Going to bed at night is way easier when you have a cute, cuddly boyfriend who starts falling asleep around eleven o’clock. It also helps that he and Zuko are on solid gold butt-touching terms.

It’s been a while since Sokka has been on butt-touching terms with someone and it’s amazing.]

Or,

Sokka knows a guy, gets laid, and introduces Zuko to the merits of an afternoon delight.

When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it): @riotwritesthings

There’s a tiny safe house, with one tiny window and one tiny couch.

And one tiny little bed.

June

Nice Fingers: @anthonyed

A single compliment given by Tony stirs Bucky restless until he caves in and asks him out on a date.

With Steve’s help of course (whether he likes it or not).

The Darkest Touch: @starkrogerrs

This is the story of how Steve finds that it has been ordained that he is to marry a monster he cannot resist aka the God of Love himself, Tony.

It's Cupid x Psyche retold, but with thrice the amount of porn.

The Night Shift:  @weethreequarter

Welcome to the Emergency Department of San Antonio General where Dr. Tony Stark joins the team fresh from his most recent tour in Afghanistan and - much to the consternation of the other staff - strikes up an instant rapport with Nurse Steve Rogers. Meanwhile, new resident Bruce Banner refuses to give up on his patient, and Dr. Sharon Carter learns something from her own patients. Throw in a pissed off hospital administrator, Clint using the coffee pot as a mug again, and a major car crash and you have, well, just another night shift.

Wind Beneath My Wings: @iam93percentstardust

Sam first meets Tony Stark in 2005 when he joins the EXO-7 Falcon program.

In jest: @/apathyinreverie

“No, babe,” Danny shakes his head with a grin. “If the apocalypse were to go down while I’m elsewhere for some godforsaken reason, then you stay put and I’m coming to wherever you are.” His grin widens. “And I expect you to have cleared any aliens or zombies or whatever else might be messing with us off the island and to have set up a nice, comfortable military dictatorship for us to rule over by the time I get back.”

It’s a joke.

Of course it’s a joke.

Until it isn’t.

(A the-day-after-tomorrow-style apocalypse AU, where the world decides to end right when Danny is visiting one of the other islands with Grace. Because, of course, it does.)

[laketaj24]

The Rules IV: Triggered

Author’s Note: Thank you all soo much for your input!!! It helped me out more than you know! This was fun as hell to write and I hope you’re down for a ride! It’s about to go down. There are two songs that really hit the nail on the head for this part, they are linked below! Happy Reading my people!

Pairing: CEO!Henry Cavill X Reader

Warning: Angst. SMUT. DRAMA.

Want to catch up! Click HERE

Song Inspirations: Jhene Aiko: Triggered (First Part) Jhene Aiko: P*SSY Fairy

If your heart slowed anymore, you’d collapse. But it wasn’t just the lethargic beat of your heart that slowed down. The kiss. The fucking kiss was being replayed in your head over and over, the way she cupped him, the way his lips touched hers and he deepened it. You feel the bile rise at the helm of your throat and you step back.

“Excuse me.” You whispered to a bewildered Alex, “I need to leave.”

He noticed. You could tell by the way he looked back to Henry and then you. His tall frame went from relaxed to apathetic. “Is it him?” He gave a wave in Henry’s direction and then stepped closer to you. “Y/N?”

“I can’t talk about this right now.” You attempted to push your way through the crowd and caught an opening into the gala hall. Alex was on your feet, his long strides made it easy for him to catch you. “Hey, I can’t talk about it right now.”

Your mind raced, he took a month away from you, was it because the entire time he had her? Were you some fucking mistress, side-chick, side bitch… Homewrecker? Inwardly you taunted yourself with the unceasing line of insults to yourself. Fuck! Fuck.

“Look.” Alex cleared his throat and stepped closer to you. His presence kept you from bolting into the nearest room and destroying everything in it. You were grateful for that, maybe. “He is not worth you not enjoying this night. Do you know how beautiful you are right now? Every eye in the building was with you when we arrived. Make him mad, but don’t let him win. He did nothing to deserve a win apparently.”

The pep talk worked and more and more you were starting to understand why Alex was a friend you didn't want to lose regardless of what happened. The first dance is casual, you fight tears watching the woman touch his hand, laid her hand on his chest and laugh like he was a comedian. He wasn't that damn funny. You stay for an hour, it was required to stay an hour, you have done only what was expected of you and nothing more. Alex took you home, the car ride is silent besides the occasional murmur of a curse word under your breath.

Home is what you craved more than anything, once the door was closed and Alex's driver left you released a scream that scared you, followed by a sob as you felt your heart literally break. What a fucking feeling? Grief for someone who didn't deserve it. You didn't drink to solve your problems, so alcohol was a no. Sleep was the obvious answer.  The dress felt like it burned your skin, you were certain it didn't, but the fact that it came from him made it poison. He was poison, that you willingly chugged down like a vintage wine and now the repercussions had finally made their grand entrance. And fuck them.

Why were you looking them up, they were a known couple, known to everyone but you? You typed in his name and nothing but her appeared Billionaire Henry Cavill and Olivia Tate grace the Emmy's with their presence. Will this playboy finally settle down? Olivia Tate has HC's heart around her finger. You were sick again. You throw the phone on the couch and screenshot the picture of him kissing her. Is this the future Mrs. Cavill?

You changed clothes, slipping the crop top and leggings on. You knew it wasn't the end of the night. And you were right, sleep does not come. He sends you seven messages, each of which you stared at trying to formulate a response, but they didn't merit one, until the last one.

Henry: I've been looking for you for an hour. Where are you?

Henry: You left without a word? Are you mad or something?

Henry: A response would be nice.

Henry: Y/N

Henry: Y/N. I'll find you later.

Henry: Be there in ten.

Y/N: Drive safe. Are you bringing the wife with you?

You hit send of the picture you'd saved.

Henry: Wow.

The wait for him to arrive only infuriates you more, your mother had always said your temper was like a wildfire, once it sparked it would consume everything to the ground. You knew she was right; Henry even knew your temper needed to be managed, but no one fucking managed you. This included Henry. He didn't knock. He never did really, he entered with his perfectly tailored suit and an eye roll. And the lamp crashed behind him. He ducks, but his face is shocked.

"What the fuck was that?" he hissed.

"My fucking two-hundred-dollar lamp." You picked up the shoes and hurled them across the room next and he ducked as if he knew they were coming and charged towards you. You moved from his grasp. "You have been with her for a year!" It roared out of you and then the tears followed. "Why did you even come over here? Did you think I would be okay with it? Do you think I want to be your whore? Come when you say, fuck when you say and then you go home to her. Don't touch me!!"

"You're not going to let me explain, are you?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Explain Henry, tell me what lie did you conjure up, while headed here. She's just a friend. I wasn't with her." you shake your head and Henry folds his arms across his chest. "Is she the reason you wouldn't let me kiss you?"

"Are you finishing acting like-."

"Say it!" You cut him off and step closer to him. You wanted to hit something, but his face was too pretty for that shit, and despite your anger, your mother raised you better than that, "Like what Henry? Get out."

"Y/N."

"I said get the fuck out!"

His jaw clenched and he pushed his hands through his thick mane of brown curls, ending the polished look he had earlier. "I'll call you later."

"Oh, no the fuck you won't." You opened the door to Alex standing there with his eyes on Henry. Why was he back? "He was just leaving." You explained to Alex. "Bye."

Alex stepped aside and held up the brown bag, you could smell the Chinese and noticed the wine bottle. "We didn't get to eat." He explained. The smug grin on his face sealed the night, he was a good guy.

You smiled and watched Henry stare at him before looking back at you. He shook his head, "Goodnight."

"Fuck you." You whispered.

In the past hearing, people say they were numb sounded foolish, of course, they felt. A human cannot simply shut it all off, but you were wrong. So wrong, it was easier to go numb than to feel. It started with work, your time invested in the company allotted you vacation three fucking weeks, paid and free.

The first week you spent with Alex, not fucking his brains out like a part of you wanted to but being a friend. He allowed you to talk, you told him everything and he listened with no judgment and that made it easier. Tia was around too, she spent the night with you when she could, in between hair appointments and makeup slots. Her career was changing fast, you were happy for her even if you barely showed it at times.

The second week you shut them both out. You told them you were out of town, but you were in your apartment with food and tear-soaked pillows. His phone calls had stopped, but you feared it was only because you changed the number. Work could contact you via email if they needed to, but no one even called you during the first two weeks. The marketing strategy you left would do well, you knew it. And besides your certainty in your program, you didn’t care what Cavill Industries did at the moment.

The third week, everything went numb, there were no more tears to cry. Every inkling of him that existed was gone, including the $6000 dollar dress. You burned it and at that final act, the night was gone from your mind. He’d broken the rules. You’d both set them and when he kissed her, he disqualified himself.

The first day back to work your anxiety had you in its grip. Every phone call and opening of your door you dreaded. But he didn’t come. He wasn’t even in the building, according to your boss and that eased everything. You could work with him not being anywhere near you, and that made you apply to the other firms that had once been interested in you. You got two calls immediately. Matheus Corporate wanted to hire you without an interview and after the offer they sent, you were taking it. You typed out your resignation letter and turned it into HR. It was the right choice.

It was a month before you saw him again, and the Cavill you saw briefly in the lobby looked nothing like the one you had grown accustomed to. His hair was wild, and he had a beard, an actual beard. His slate-blue eyes were tired as were his movements. Just seeing him triggered you, the horrid memories of that night flooded your head and the pain resurfaced. Being numb would not be possible around him. You knew it. You hid in the stairwell like an idiot and avoided him. Nine more days of work here and you would be clear.

“Look, the way I see it, we are friends now.” Alex kicked his feet up on your desk and looked to you for affirmation.

You gave it to him nodding your head and chugging down your third bottle of water. “Yes, we’re friends. So, when I call you up at midnight and you’re with your little girlfriend cuddling and things you still have to make an appearance.”

“Girlfriend?” He scoffed.

“You heard me.” You pointed at him.

“I’m hoping one day the little girlfriend, I am cuddling will be you.” He smiled. “There is no rush and no expectation for it. But I didn’t want you to leave this place, oblivious to the fact that I really like you.”

Your heart warmed and you smiled. “Nine days to go and your boldness is out the bag.”

He shrugged. “Did I get brownie points?”

“A whole cake.” You said. You were back to work an hour later, singing under your breath when the door opened.

“I told him to wait outside.” Your assistant said, trying to beat Henry in the office. She turned to you. “Ms. YLN, Mr. Cavill is here to see you.” But he was already in front of your desk.

“Get out.” He said to her.

“Whatever you have to say to me, she can hear.” For some reason, you knew if the door closed you would succumb to him, “Speak.”

“You are not leaving.” His voice was not composed, just wavering and near weak. “Y/N.”

“Gianna, you can go.” You exhaled. What the hell had happened to him? She left the room and the space that once seemed huge started to shrink. Henry walked towards you and you held your hand up when he reached your desk. “What?”

“You changed your number.”

“What did you expect?”

“For you to give me a chance to explain,” His eyes plead with yours for the opportunity. “Can I have that please?”

“You don’t owe me an explanation, I was never yours, right?”

“You’re still mine.” The slight possessiveness came back to his voice.  

It made you weak for a moment, your hitched breath took over the silence. “Hurry up, Henry.”

“She is my girlfriend.” He said.

The words punch at a wound you were certain was nearly healed. You hoped he was going to say that he left her, the pathetically infatuated part of you wanted him to say, she dumped him. But he just reaffirmed what you already knew. Olivia Tate was the official girlfriend of Henry Cavill. “Thanks?” You swallowed. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t want her to be, I want you.”

“You are making no sense and I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to throw things at you here. I just wanted to leave all this in the past. Go be with her.”

“Y/N.” He said your name as if he was fighting for breath. “There are some things you do not understand about me. Things I would rather not talk about, but I don’t want her.”

“Then leave her! Damn it.” You bit out. “You are a grown man. You can make decisions on your own. If you didn’t want her then end it. End it now.”

“I can’t talk here.”

“Where else are you gonna talk?” You laughed. “My place? Hell no.”

“Mine.” He shook his head. “I’ll send a car for you after work. Don’t make them work Y/N. Just come.” He looked at you. “Please.”

“Fine.”

 You didn’t fight his orders on meeting him, curiosity reared its ugly head and you were gone. His home was at the edge of town, the driveway curved up a hill and lead to the glass estate. It was incredible. Had you been here on better circumstances, you would have enjoyed the view. You stepped out and the door opened. Henry had shed the suit for a black shirt and black sweats that hung at his waist somehow accenting his frame. Fuck. Were you even going to be strong enough to say no to this god? One last fuck? Just to say goodbye fuck, it wouldn’t be frowned upon.

You argued with yourself and walked into the home, the décor was much like his office dark brown woods with a modern sense. You stood in the foyer and looked at him. The closer to the door you were, the more likely you were to say no to him without hesitation.

“I can’t shut you out of my mind.” He confessed. He had shaved, but his hair was still tucked behind his ears, longer than normal.

“Just tell me.”

“I met Olivia in college.” He sighed. “We used to date off and on, but it was never more than sex. Never.”

“That’s all it is with us.” You interrupted. “Hence the reason I don’t need this talk.”

“Then why’d you come?” Henry stared. “I have been infatuated with you for months and when I finally got the opportunity to be with you, I jumped at it.”

“Don’t feed me bullshit.” You held your hand up.

“Who do you think hired you?”

“Why can’t you just leave her?” You asked.

“She knows things about me that can ruin me.” he stopped talking. “Liv is talented at getting the things she wants. If I leave her, she’ll spill it.”

“Oh, get the fuck out of here!” You laugh. “You expect me to believe this Lifetime movie shit? You got a girlfriend and you want me too. Admit it.”

“I don’t want her.” He shook his head. “I want you.”

“You can say it until you’re blue in the face. If you don’t show me, how in the fuck am I supposed to believe that this… isn’t just a way for you to get what you want.”

Henry sunk to his knees. “I’ll beg you.”

“Dogs beg.” You spat.

“Anything.” He rasped.

“Do you know how bad I hurt? I didn’t work for weeks. I didn’t care for weeks. We’ve been together a month. Do you think my behavior was normal? Do you think yours is normal? No. We are bad for one another and I just…”

How did he get up so fast? You moved back and he was on you, his steps heavy and determined. He caged you against the wall and then you realized, his face was wet with tears.

“You have to believe me.” He whispered and the fear clawed through him. “Please.”

There was an urge pushing you to leave this place, nothing good can come from him. But his face was pained, you’d never seen this part of him. You cupped his face affectionately and your lips graze his cheek. It feels as if he shutters and then you just do it. You hesitantly kiss him. Your lips touch his and the energy that passes through you ignites a groan.

“Please.” The plea is accompanied by him responding to the kiss, tenderly. He leaned into you, his body blanketing to you and taking whatever breath you thought you had left. But you were sure that he took your breath away without a kiss. His brow furrowed as he deepened it pushing your head against the door. He wrapped his arms around you, swaddling you in his muscles while somehow it wasn’t the muscles that you felt. For the first time, he was being himself with you. He allowed you to feel what you didn’t even know was there.

He pulled back from you and he moved as if he was dizzy. The breath he had stolen from you had made it's way back to you and you inhaled. There was more than a desire that flickered between the two of you.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

His eyes flashed with a little hope. “Same.” Henry didn’t wait for permission he just scooped you up from the floor and kissed you again, this time it hurt. The hurt is so fucking good.

“I want,” the words were caught in your throat. Was this right or were you spiraling? “I want you, here. Right here.” He lowered you both down on the steps so that you were straddling him, you didn’t care for his comfort. You wanted him to feel you. “You remember the rules?” You whispered. Your tongue licks his lips and then dives in and he’s taken back, gripping your ass that is winding on his dick. You can feel him through the sweats. “Hmm…”

“I could never forget.”

“Don’t cum unless I say.” You smiled before kissing him again. You bucked your hips on and his eyes widened the lust pushing through. “You hear me, sir?” Your voice was low and filled with lust. “I want to fuck you right here.” He grew harder, flinching against you. “I want you to moan my name when you cum…”

Henry’s hands were in your hair, pulling you back so he could see your eyes. “I’ll do whatever the fuck you want me to, just fuck me.” He begged.

“Did you miss me?”

“Always.” He groaned lowering his head to your breast. He sprung the from the blouse and ripped it in two. “Always.”

You wanted to believe him, but the lingering hurt from the past month. “If you lie to me again,” You unsheathed him from his sweats and stroked your hand down the length of his cock. You swiped the precum that oozed from the tip down and pumped again. “Missing me is all you’ll know how to do, sir.”

“Fuck,” He jumped in your hand and sucked air in through his teeth.

“Understand?”

“I-,” He moaned when you increased your speed. “Oh fuck.”

“Yeah,” You were so turned on by the way you were making him feel. You now understood why he wanted to be in control of everything in the bed. It was sexy as fuck to watch what you could do to someone. You could watch them unravel, put them back together and do it again.

Henry pushed the pen skirt up and easily ripped the panties. He tossed them behind you and his fingers were in you. Prodding and working, you fucking missed him, even though you shouldn’t have. “Y/N.” He moaned. “I’m almost there.” He panted.

You stopped stroking him and began to ride his fingers, lifting yourself from them and then back on until the next time Henry pushed his cock in. He was fighting every urge he had to allow you some control in this thing. He threw his head back when he was fully inside of you and stilled.

But you wanted to fuck him. You wanted to ride him slow and draw out every fucking moment you could with him. So, if you regretted being here in the morning, the walk of shame wouldn’t have too much shame. Your walls sealed around him and he gripped your hips trying to stop you from fucking him, but you continued. Your rhythm was wild, you used his shoulders like an anchor and smiled down at him. His face was red and misted with sweat. His curls were soaked, and he was mesmerized. Your tits bounced in front of him and your eyes were rolling. “Y/N.” He warned and you felt his cock grow harder and then he growled, shuddering in your breast as if he had waited forever to cum inside of you.

“Seems you broke a rule.” You laughed and continued to fuck him. He made sounds that only made you wetter for him and the man was part machine. He had to be as his cock grew back rigid and he was still shuttering from coming the time before.

Henry licked his fingers and slapped them onto your clit before he pulled you towards him. His fingers knew how to work your pussy. Moving in circles and then another slap before he started back again, and you were about to cum. You didn’t want to. You shook your head and Henry looked up at you, “I won’t last another time. I ca-,” Your pussy shook around his and your thighs locked down as the pleasure surged through your body. “Shit!” He yelled before slamming into you and spilling his cum again. “Y/N.” He rasped.

The floor wasn’t a bad place to lay for the time being. Henry was wrapped around your naked body and there was no need for cover. He kept you warm enough.

“Was she the reason you didn’t kiss me?”

He exhaled. “She,” he paused. “I never know when she will decide to come back into my life.” He admits. “And up until you, it was easier not kissing, that way when it ended… there were no emotions in it. It was just fucking. I can’t do that with you, okay? A single glance from you could make my heart stop, a kiss would have shattered me.” Henry admitted.

It was quiet for a while. Just deep breaths and kisses all down your body. “Let’s go to bed.” You said finally. “My boss would be mad as hell if I missed tomorrow.”

“I’m throwing you resignation away, and if you’re having problems out of Mike… I’ll fire his ass.” He stood up and reached his hand out to you. “Come on, the bed is the proper place to make sure you’re so tired work isn’t an option.”

  His bed was comfortable, the sheets were so soft you were tempted to ask where he got them. You slept peacefully entangled in the muscled mass that is Henry. But it was not a complaint to make, being without him for so long made you grateful you could listen to him breathe and feel his heart against your back.

“Thank God.” The unfamiliar voice came from the bottom of the bed.

Your eyes narrowed as the bright sun made its way through the windows. The blonde hair was the first take away, it was Olivia. You scrambled from under Henry’s body. “Henry!” If she wanted a fight, you were ready to fight her, you’d just prefer to not be naked while doing it.

Henry groaned and once he caught sight of her he jolted up from the bed. “Olivia. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Don’t be rude. I was just saying thank God.” Olivia leaned over his legs and looked at you. “I hated watching him mope around here. He looked like a puppy, sad because his bitch went away.”

“Bitch? I beg your pardon, Henry if you don’t get this woman.” Henry gave an admonished look to Olivia and gripped your hand. It didn’t comfort you. It just pissed you off. You snatched your hand away from him. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” One more foul word from her and you’d fight naked.

“Excuse my manners, darling. I’m Olivia and I am so glad you are here. It seems we have some rules to introduce.” She pushed up from the bed and left the room. “Chop, chop Henry, dear. Bring your bitch, I have a plane to catch.”

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Breakable Heaven (pt. IV) - p.l. dubois

part I part II part III

Oh my gosh, I seriously can’t believe this little series has come to an end. I’m so so happy with how it’s turned out, and want to thank anyone who’s stuck with Laurel and Pierre-Luc throughout this month. It’s one of my favorite things I’ve ever done, and it’s yours to enjoy now. Please please let me know what you think of this part, what you think about the series - getting anon comments is amazing, my inbox is always open, and I LOVE reading tags. Reblog if you like what I’m putting out, it helps me know that!

Warning: Smut (It’s light, but it’s there, so no one under 18 please!)

Part IV (7.8k)

September 23 (thurs)

Laurel was running through the Toronto airport, her carry-on bag bouncing on the tile behind her as she frantically searched for her gate. Thank God Air Canada domestic flew from the international terminal; her layover was only an hour and ten minutes and even more time had been shaved off by a departure delay in Montréal. She had forgotten that flights from Toronto cleared U.S. Customs in Canada, and if she hadn’t been able to skip the line and slap her American passport on a kiosk reader she would have almost certainly missed her connection. 

No matter how many times Laurel had tried to insist on an economy ticket when she and Pierre were booking flights for her visits, he refused to cave. “They don’t include a checked bag in economy, but they do if you fly business,” he had said, shrugging, with a small smile on his face. “Baggage fees alone would make it pretty much a wash.” Laurel doubted that, and she doubted that she’d need a checked bag for a four-day trip, but her husband had made it clear that he wasn’t budging. 

So needless to say, she was more than a little bit out of breath as she finally arrived at Gate F66, which was conveniently almost as far away from her arrival gate as humanly possible while still being in the same terminal. She handed her boarding pass and passport to the gate agent, smiling apologetically as she hurried down the jetbridge. It was barely past noon, but there was nothing in the world Laurel wanted more than to sleep. Maintaining a full-time schedule at the hospital while also trying to organize a trip to Columbus that lasted more than two days meant she had to switch shifts. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue; that week, however, the only open slot was the 12-hour overnight shift on Wednesday. Which meant that she’d been awake for some twenty hours straight, but almost all of that had been on her feet at work, or walking from the parking lot to the check-in counter in Montréal, or running through the halls of Pearson Airport in Toronto. She took her seat, half-listened to the safety briefing, and passed out as soon as her head hit the headrest. 

Much to her chagrin, the flight itself was only just over an hour, and she was really only able to get in a generous nap before their descent into Ohio. Sitting in the second row, she exited the plane in record time, flicking her phone off of airplane mode and waiting for a text from Pierre-Luc. At least she didn’t have to go through TSA again. He wrote back in record time, letting her know he’d be in his car at the curb right outside the terminal. She waited at baggage claim, grabbing her forest green suitcase; the same one she had when she’d moved to Toronto for university, fresh-faced and 18 and so, so unaware of what the world had in store for her. If only she could see herself now. Laurel ran her thumb along the side handle for a moment, pulling at a loose thread, before hefting it onto the floor and turning towards the sliding exit doors. 

As promised, Pierre was waiting right outside the door, flashing her a bright smile and throwing the driver’s side door open as soon as he saw her. “Welcome to Columbus, babe!” he exclaimed, wrapping Laurel into a deep hug and kissing her on the cheek. 

She laughed as the trunk popped open, each of them grabbing a suitcase. “It’s a little bit funny, don’t you think? That I’ve lived in the Midwest for almost my whole life and the first time I go to Ohio it’s because I’m living in Canada?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” Pierre said, holding his thumb and pointer finger about an inch apart. “I’m really happy you were able to come, though, Laurel. I got used to having you around.” His face was softer now, looking over at Laurel with an expression that wasn’t quite placable but seemed like it was somehow communicating so much in a single glance. 

“Me too,” Laurel replied. The ride to Pierre’s Columbus apartment took just over ten minutes, and Laurel was in the door, petting the dogs, before the clock struck 3:00. 

Pierre approached her from behind, his hands on her shoulders as he leaned around to kiss her on the cheek. “You want to take a nap?” he asked. “We’ve got that thing with the team at 7, and I know you’re probably running on fumes right now.” 

Laurel nodded, giving him a weary smile, dropping her bag on the floor of the master bedroom with an all-too-satisfying thump. “Nap sounds good.” 

---

The nap was good, so good, and Laurel woke up at half past 6 feeling like she’d just had the best sleep of her life. She yawned, rubbing her eyes, and looked around the room to see Pierre with his back towards her, buttoning up his shirt. He turned around, catching her eye, and grinned. “You like the view?” he asked, gesturing to his half-naked torso. 

Laurel rolled her eyes, pulling the sheets up to poorly conceal her embarrassment at being caught. “And if I do?”

She heard a loud laugh, peeking her head out from under. “I’d say my wife has every right to appreciate it.” He walked around the bed while fastening the last few buttons, holding his hand out for Laurel to take. “I let you sleep as long as I could, but we’re going to have to get going in fifteen minutes or so. I was told that ‘we’ve waited this long to meet her, the least you could do is get your damn wife to the party in time,’” he said, adding air quotes for emphasis. 

Laurel nodded, tossing back the covers and walking over to her suitcase, intending to rifle through the stacks of clothes to find something for the night’s festivities. Instead, she was greeted by an empty bag. She wheeled around to look at Pierre, who was sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at her suitcase. “I unpacked your stuff,” he said, nodding over towards the spare dresser. “It’s in there. I’m sorry if that seems weird and I won’t do it again if you feel like that was pushing your boundaries, but I know for me when I’m on roadies I like to unpack, even if it’s just one night. Makes it feel more like home.”

Laurel was too overcome with how sweet the gesture was, small as it may have been, to realize that that meant he had touched four days worth of bras and underwear. It shouldn’t have bothered him anyways, and if he hadn’t said anything about it, it clearly hadn’t. So instead, she pulled him into a warm hug, standing on her tiptoes to bury her face in the crook of his neck. “Thank you, P. One less thing I have to do.” 

“You do still have to actually get dressed, though,” he added, giving her sleepwear an appreciative once-over. “Unless you’re planning on wearing that.” 

She let out a giggle. “As much as I love wearing a massive Cloquet High Lumberjacks t-shirt and no pants, somehow I don’t think that’s the move,” she said, ambling over towards the dresser. She found the tops on the first try, pulling out a wine-colored wrap shirt and grabbing the same pair of light-wash jeans she had worn on the plane. Pierre moved to duck out of the room, presumably to give her privacy to change. Laurel made a split-second decision to call after him. “You don’t have to leave.” Pierre stopped in his tracks.

Laurel slipped the shirt on, tying it in the front, and fastened her jeans. Mascara on and booties zippered, and she was good to go. “So what is this thing, anyways?” she asked Pierre as they drove to Foligno’s house. 

Pierre tilted his head. “Little bit of this, little bit of that. Half the typical beginning-of-the-year preseason party, half the wedding reception we never had. They were very insistent on bringing gifts, so be prepared.”

“Will do,” she said, laughing. “And by they, you mean…”

“Some of the guys, but mostly the wives and girlfriends. Their parties are the stuff of legends, so you can imagine how excited everyone was when I told them we never had a proper reception.”

“But they don’t know why we didn’t have a proper party,” Laurel reminded him. 

“About that…” Pierre started, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. 

Laurel froze, her thumb hovering over her phone screen, halfway through composing a text to Kristen. “Pierre,” she swallowed, her voice deadly soft, “did you tell someone?”

---

It was the Saturday before, and the team had gone out to celebrate the end of the first week of training camp. Sunday was an off day, so Saturday night found all the over-21s — and anyone who could get a good enough fake — at a bar in the city. Pierre had just crossed the line into tipsy, and as his captain was about to find out, tipsy Pierre was an oversharer. It was common enough for families to be a topic of discussion on nights out or in the locker room; that wasn’t the issue. The issue was that, as the old adage goes, drunk words are sober thoughts. And, if he was being honest, Pierre was still harboring some guilt from having to hide the truth of his and Laurel’s marriage from everyone, Nick included. Pierre hated that he couldn’t tell Nick the truth. He was his captain and his friend, and he felt the least he owed to him was not to lie. 

“It’s just so weird being away from Laurel, away from Montréal, for this long,” Pierre sighed. 

“Sure,” Nick said sympathetically, “but you said you’d been friends for a few years, so you’ve had feelings for her for a while, no? It’s obviously not ideal, but you’ve been away from her for longer.” 

Pierre turned towards Nick, some of his beer — his fourth of the night — spilling out of the cup. “Can I tell you a secret?” 

Nick rolled his eyes, thinking he was going to be hearing some dumb high school confession, that he had asked out a senior girl when he was a freshman, or filled his QMJHL captain’s gloves with shaving cream or something. He didn’t expect what he heard next. 

“We got married so she could stay in the country, for her permanent residency. I never met her before June.” 

Nick sucked in a breath. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?” 

“Nope.” 

“You realize how much trouble you guys could get into if they figure out, right?” he asked. 

Pierre nodded, looking down at his clasped hands nervously. “We both do. But you’re not going to tell anyone, right?” 

“No, of course not,” Nick said. “I trust you, and I know you and Laurel were just doing what you thought was the best and most logical thing given the circumstances.” Pierre let out a somber nod. “But,” he continued, “I feel like this whole...situation just leaves open the opportunity for things to get really messy really quickly.” 

“Messy how?” Pierre asked. 

Nick shifted uncomfortably in his chair, looking at a spot just beyond Pierre’s head. He didn’t want to, not really, but it was his job as Pierre’s captain — more importantly as his friend  — to make him consider every angle. “Someone catching feelings, one of you falling for the other, or God forbid, someone else. There’s already so much at stake in a ‘normal’ marriage, but yours just has added complications.” Pierre felt a twinge in his heart. He didn’t want to admit it, he really didn’t want to admit it, but Nick was right. “Do you love her?” Nick asked softly. 

Pierre sunk back into his chair. “I don’t know. She means a lot to me, more than I ever thought she would, but I don’t know. Plus, I have no clue how she feels about me, and I wouldn’t want to say something like that only to have her pull away.” 

“Did you guys talk about that?” he asked. 

“About what?” Pierre responded. 

“About what would happen if one of you caught feelings. Because I’m assuming it was supposed to, is supposed to, be a strictly platonic thing.” 

Pierre shrugged. “Not really. We didn’t like make a pact or anything, if that’s what you’re asking. We really didn’t talk much about it at all,” he said, finishing his beer. “I mean, obviously we agreed that we wouldn’t be seeing anyone else, dating or hooking up or anything like that. It was just too risky. But no, we never really addressed how we’d deal with it if one of us ended up...falling for each other. I guess it was just supposed to be a ‘we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it’ type of thing.” 

“And have you come to it?” Nick asked. 

“I don’t know.”

---

Pierre finished the story, hazarding a glance over to Laurel, who was wringing her hands as she looked out the windshield. “I’m not mad at you,” she said finally. “If Nick said he wouldn’t tell, I trust you when you say he won’t. One of us was bound to let it slip eventually.” 

He turned his eyes back towards the road, still feeling a pang of regret. She was almost being too good to him. “We’ll be okay,” he said, saying it just as much to himself as he did to her. 

Laurel gave him a small smile as they pulled into the Foligno’s house, parking on the stone-paved driveway. “We will be.”

Janelle opened the door practically the second after they knocked, greeting Pierre and Laurel with warm hugs. “Laurel, it’s so wonderful to finally meet you,” she said, squeezing her hand. “We know how hard it is to find the time off and make the trip down, and everyone’s excited to see you.” She led them through the entryway to the living room, where Laurel was passed around to some twenty-odd players and their partners, where she introduced herself over and over again as “Pierre’s wife, yes the nurse from Minnesota who none of you knew existed.” 

Dinner was a barbeque outside, Nick, Pierre, and some of the others manning the three grills as Laurel helped set up the drinks table. He held her hand under the table as they ate, his thumb gently rubbing across her thigh every so often in reassurance. “You good?” he murmured in his ear as Laurel sipped a beer, half-listening to some story Korpi was telling about a near-miss incident with a water ski back in Finland during the summer. 

Laurel nodded, squeezing his fingers. “I’m good.”

Plates were cleared, dishes were washed, and everyone was herded into Nick and Janelle’s enormous family room, where a small mountain of wrapped boxes and bags sat in the far corner. “I don’t know if you know this,” Janelle said conspiratorially as Laurel sat down, “but NHLers make more than a little money.” 

She laughed. “So I’ve been told.”

“Which means that, clueless though they may be, you’re going to be getting some very nice presents.” 

And very nice presents they were. A wine club membership, a set of dutch ovens from Seth — “It was my mom’s suggestion”  — Jones, an espresso machine from Boone, a set of matching, personalized dog bowls for Phil, Georgia, and Piper. Laurel honestly wasn’t sure how it was all going to fit in the car, let alone how she was going to manage to stay under the baggage limit on her way back to Canada, but the thought and kindness that went into each gift was what really made it special. 

“From me and the other girls,” Janelle said, passing Laurel a bag. 

“Oh, this is too much,” Laurel said. “You already got the knives and the mixer, I don’t need anything else.”

Cam’s wife, Natalie, shrugged. “Would it help if we made it, didn’t buy it?”

Laurel’s brow furrowed in confusion, her fingers moving to undo the ribbon that tied the handles together, taking out the tissue paper. “Oh!” she gasped quietly as she pulled out a denim jacket, a Blue Jackets logo ironed onto the back, Dubois embroidered where a name bar would be. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re still a part of the family,” Natalie said, smiling. “Even if you’re not here all the time. We want you to feel as included as anyone else.”  

Laurel folded up the jacket carefully, tucking it back in the bag as Josh walked up to Pierre, holding out a small box, clearly wrapped by himself. “Well now I just feel silly.”

Pierre shook his head, smiling at his friend. “Don’t, Josh. I’m sure we’ll love it.” He thumbed open the folds on the wrapping paper, setting it aside before pulling off the top of the box. He fell silent. 

Laurel peeked over, trying to catch a glimpse of the box’s contents. “What is it, P?”

Instead of answering, Pierre just held the box upside-down. Condoms of all colors and sizes rained down onto the hardwood floor as Pierre stared at Josh, clearly trying very hard not to laugh. The side of his mouth twitched. “Interesting choice of gift, you don’t think?” he asked.

Josh shrugged helplessly, his cheeks red. “It’s practical?”

 November 28 (sun)

 Laurel caught every Blue Jackets game she could on the TV, even the ones in early November when Pierre was out for a few games with a mild concussion. She was his wife, but she was also a nurse, and made sure to get daily updates on his condition, restraining herself from FaceTiming him to help limit his amount of daily screen time. But he had been back for a few weeks, making second star of the night with a goal and an assist, so naturally he was pulled away for a few postgame interviews. 

Laurel watched the screen, trying not to get distracted by the sweat drenching his Underarmour. Reporters, the good ones at least, were usually considerate with steering clear of asking personal questions, but sometimes an injury, or the birth of a child, or, as luck would have it, a wedding, begged an answer. “So, Pierre, I think a lot of us were surprised to see you announce on Instagram that you had gotten married this summer. Congratulations, by the way,” the journalist from the Dispatch said. 

“Thanks,” Pierre replied, smiling. 

“And I hope I speak for everyone here when saying that we entirely respect you and your wife’s decision to keep things quiet and announce it in a much more subdued fashion than usual. Players often speak a lot about how integral support from family and friends is, and just how important it is to have that kind of a support system in place.” Pierre could see where the question was going. “Obviously you’ve got the boys down here, but it doesn’t look like your wife Laurel is based in Columbus like you are. Is there a reason for that, and do you think that’s affected your game?” 

Pierre sucked in a breath; it was a fair question, and a reasonable assumption to make, but that didn’t mean he liked answering it any more. But it was almost suspicious how quickly he had an answer. “Uh, yeah, it’s been interesting for us to have to navigate. You’re right, Laurel’s back in Montréal, she spends most of her time at our place in the city. She’s a nurse in the intensive care unit of CHU Saint-Justine, so she does pediatrics there. She loves what she does, and she’s so good at it, and it just wouldn’t be right of me to ever ask or expect her to leave on my account. I know we’ve got a great hospital at Nationwide Children’s, but she loves where she is. We both do. So yeah, it’s rough being away sometimes, but luckily she’s able to move shifts around and make it down twice a month or so when we’re not on the road. But we keep in contact daily, obviously, and I’m able to lean on the guys, especially the other married ones, on how to deal with the stress of being away for so long. But it’s rough. I miss my wife,” Pierre finished. 

Laurel clicked the remote, turning the TV off, her hand scratching behind Piper’s ears, and tried not to replay his words in her mind as she crawled into bed and fell asleep. 

 December 18 (sat)

 Laurel stumbled through the door of Pierre’s Columbus apartment, laughing breathlessly as she tried to lock the deadbolt. “You need some help there, L?” Pierre asked, raising one eyebrow. 

“I’m good,” Laurel said, taking two more tries before it would actually lock. The eggnog from the Christmas party was starting to take its toll; Pierre had agreed to be the pair’s designated driver for the night, so she had had maybe a glass too many. The night had genuinely been so much fun, Laurel had initially been worried at how well she might fit in with the group in a more casual situation. As much as she loved being able to hang out with the team and the other WAGs when she was in Ohio — and she did — she couldn’t help but be nervous that she didn’t have the same level of camaraderie that could help turn a night from good to great. Laurel couldn’t have been happier to be wrong. She was embraced from the moment she walked in the door, a glass of wine pushed into her hand and her Secret Santa gift deposited on the entryway table. 

Laurel used to always roll her eyes at the idea that “time flies when you’re having fun,” but that couldn’t have been more true for the party. It seemed like only minutes had passed, but suddenly it was almost midnight, and the couples with kids had to head home to relieve the babysitters, and Laurel and Pierre were headed home. 

“Let’s get some water in you, no?” Pierre murmured, walking to the kitchen and opening the cupboard. 

“Thanks,” Laurel said softly as she took the glass from him, kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet under her on the couch. 

Pierre perched on the arm, absentmindedly playing with his watch. But while a tipsy Pierre was an oversharer, a tipsy Laurel was always emotional in one fashion or another. “How’d you like the party?”

“It was great,” Laurel said. “I’m not sure why Alexandre thought I’d be into a Blue Jackets scarf, but I guess it’s the thought that counts?” She pulled the offending object out of her bag, running her fingers through the fringe on the edge. “Seeing how amazing so many of those couples are, Janelle and Nick especially, it was awesome…” She trailed off. “But it was hard.”

His brow furrowed. Why would it be hard? “How so?”

“I always thought that, when I got married, it would be once and that was it.” She screwed her eyes shut. “And that’s not to mean I’m not grateful for what you’ve done, it’s so incredible and goes so far beyond just plain kindness. I just thought it would be a forever thing.”

Pierre’s heart dropped. Of course she’d feel like that. If marriage was something she wanted to take that seriously, how could she not feel like she was cheapening its meaning by treating it as nothing more than an arrangement of convenience? It wasn’t even like he felt any differently; hockey was obviously still his first priority most of the time, but he’d always seen himself as someone who wanted to settle down and have a family one day. He guessed that he just hadn’t let himself think about it. “Laurel,” he said quietly, reaching out to her. But she wasn’t done. 

“It’s just,” Laurel sighed, one hand tugging on her hair, tears threatening to escape her eyes, “knowing this is all temporary. Knowing that in a couple of y-years, when I g-get my citizenship and we get d-divorced, this is all going to end,” she said, hiccuping through her words. “I won’t be able to come to your Christmas parties and fly down for games and sit up in the WAG box with my friends and that jacket and a jersey with your name on it. I won’t be able to do any of that any more because it wasn’t real, it wasn’t ever real, and that fucking kills me inside, P.” Laurel sat on the corner of the couch, a spot as precarious as the words tumbling out of her mouth. 

“Why?” Pierre asked, even though if he was honest, he’d stake his career on the belief that he already knew the answer. “Why would it hurt so bad?” His voice was so quiet that if Laurel hadn’t been sitting two feet away, she wouldn’t have heard. 

“Because I’m fucking in love with you,” she whispered. “And that’s the single most terrifying sentence I’ve ever said in my life.” Even though Pierre somehow knew that’s what she was going to say all along, it didn’t stop her words from stealing the breath out of his lungs. Laurel looked up at him through her tears, her eyes beginning to redden. “Say something, please, P.”

Pierre knelt in front of her, his thumb resting gently on her cheek, wiping away her tears. “God, Laur, how could I not be in love with you?” She blinked rapidly at him, trying to process the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I wasn’t lying when I said you were one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met. You’re so caring, not just for me, but for everyone in your life. You’d give a stranger the shirt off of your back. You’re probably the smartest person I know, way smarter than me.” A giggle escaped Laurel’s mouth. “The dedication you show to everything in your life is amazing. At your job, you treat every patient like they were your own sibling or your own child. You make the trip down to Columbus once a month, twice a month. That’s not easy, all the flight time and having to leave Piper and switching shifts around so we can see each other. You’re gorgeous, not just on the outside — though you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen — but the light in your eyes when you talk about a new book you read, or how happy you look when you let me taste a new recipe you’re trying, or how passionate you get when you see something wrong and know there’s something you need to do to change it. So what if we’re doing things a little backwards? First comes marriage, then comes love.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “I fell in love with you awhile ago. I think it just took me a second to realize it.”

 January 26 (wed)

 Laurel thought the distance and space between them would be easier now that she knew how he felt, now that they both knew how they felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong. So the All-Star break, and the Blue Jackets’ bye week, couldn’t have come at a better time. Pierre had made plans for the break a few months earlier, but after everything that happened over Christmas, it didn’t seem right to ditch Laurel for a boy’s trip with Alexandre and Seth. So Hilton Head was traded in for Saint Lucia, and his teammates were traded in for his wife. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Laurel was using three of her paid vacation days and Pierre was able to make the schedule work just right to get five nights in the Carribean. “A belated honeymoon, if you will,” he had said, cracking a grin over FaceTime as they booked the flights. The flight from Columbus was much less straightforward than hers from Montréal, but by a chance airline scheduling his first layover was in Toronto. Laurel met him at the gate, hauling her own green suitcase behind her as he flung his arms around her, kissing her with everything he had in him. They may have missed the not-so-subtle fans taking pictures that later circulated around Twitter that may or may not have led to some grade A chirping in the team’s group chat. But Pierre didn’t care. He cared that for a few days, he could forget about the stress of hockey and trying to make a playoff run and all the rumors floating around and just be with his wife. And, Pierre thought as they walked through the airport door into the Carribean sun, there really wasn’t anything else he wanted. 

They hailed a taxi, the twenty minute drive to their resort rushing by in a blur of palm trees and seas so blue Laurel thought she could fall into them just by looking. Pierre jogged into the main office to check them in, coming back with their key cards before the taxi continued on its way, dropping them off in front of their villa. Laurel spun slowly as they got out of the car, smiling up at the sky as Pierre pressed a few bills into the taxi driver’s hand with a nod of thanks. “You okay there?” he asked with a grin. 

“It’s so warm,” Laurel said in wonderment. Even in January, the weather in Saint Lucia hovered in the mid-70s, a far cry from the twenties and teens of a Montréal winter. Laurel was no stranger to the cold — Cloquet had seen temperatures pushing thirty below when Laurel was in high school — but the idea that she could be somewhere and wear shorts while it was snowing in her hometown was a concept so novel she hadn’t quite grasped it yet. 

He nodded, looking at Laurel with a gaze so soft she thought her heart would maybe burst. “We’re in the Caribbean, L. It’s warm all the time.” 

She rolled her eyes, bending over to get her suitcase, but not before Pierre snatched it up himself, holding the key card between two fingers. “Are you going to just stand there, or do you want to check out our honeymoon suite?” Laurel’s words dripped with suggestiveness, her sandal-clad feet dragging their way up the path to the villa with tantalizing languor. 

“Coming.” 

Even after the six months of their marriage, and even after everything that happened over the holidays, they hadn’t had sex. They’d gotten close a few times, both on her trip in December and in ones since, but never managed to go all the way. First Laurel needed a new birth control prescription — the last thing she would do would be have sex without being extra safe about it — and then she was too tired after a night out, and another time Pierre had scored a hat trick and they had partied way too hard to even think about sex. So needless to say, it had been a while for Laurel since she’d gotten release by any hands other than her own, and even longer for Pierre. And it certainly wasn’t because she didn’t want to. Laurel was well aware that her husband was hot as fuck, and she’d be lying if some of her lonelier nights weren’t filled with thoughts of exactly what she wanted him to do to her. But it felt different than any of her other relationships. Obviously, it felt different, she hadn’t been married to Oliver or Ryan or Carter. And that didn’t mean she wasn’t invested in those, but just that the stakes were so much higher and she had fallen so much harder for Pierre than she ever thought imaginable. She didn’t want to have sex with him until she was sure. Sure that it was going somewhere, sure that it would last, sure that he loved her in the same way that made her heart ache every time he dropped her off at Columbus International Airport. 

---

By the time they had unpacked, eaten, and gotten a few rum punches in their system, it was well past 7 and the sun had long since set. Laurel peeked out the door onto their balcony, nodding at the private plunge pool. “We’ve got quite the setup here.”

She walked over to the dresser, grabbing a swimsuit out and crossing over to the bathroom, her hand hovering over the knob. “Just something to think about.” Pierre put his swim trunks on in record time. Laurel padded out of the bathroom, the top straps of her bikini dangling, the swell of her breasts peeking above the cups. “Do me up?” she asked. 

Pierre’s fingers brushed the baby hairs at the base of her neck as he tied the straps of her white-hot bikini. “Sure you don’t want to go out to the beach?” 

Their villa came with a stretch of beachfront, and it seemed like such a shame to let it go to waste. Laurel shook her head, a smile playing on the edge of her lips. “We’ve got a couple of days to enjoy the beach. I’d like to stay somewhere a little more...secluded.” She bit her lip as she opened the door to the balcony, dipping her toes in the pool and sighing at the warmth of the water. Laurel looked back at Pierre, one eyebrow raised. “You coming?” Pierre couldn’t follow fast enough. 

They stayed in the water for a while, lazily kissing and staring at the stars and sipping drinks that had lost their potency hours ago, but neither of them really cared much. Sometime during the night, Laurel had made her way onto Pierre’s lap, where she reached over to the balcony, lofting herself out of the pool and wrapping a scarf around her body. “Getting a little cold,” she said, bending down and giving him a soft kisss. She walked into the room, drying herself off; he followed. Laurel threw the towel over a chair in the corner of the room, walking over towards Pierre, stopping when their noses were almost touching.

Laurel’s wrap fell from her shoulders, pooling on the wood floor. Pierre’s hand skated up her arm to rest on her cheek. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. She stood on her tiptoes as her left hand tangled in his hair, her right pressed against the back of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth; it took everything in Pierre’s power to keep the blood from rushing south. The kiss got more frantic, tongue and teeth clashing against each other as he walked her back to the bed. The back of her knees bumped up against the edge. 

Pierre pulled away slightly, letting out a moan as he saw Laurel’s face. Her lips were puffy from kissing, her chest heaving with the force of her breath, and her wild hair had long since been taken out of its ponytail. In other words, Pierre was convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that Laurel, in that moment, was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. “You sure you want to do this?” Pierre murmured. He wanted to. God, he wanted to. But he’d never do anything without making sure that she was absolutely comfortable. Laurel nodded, biting her lip. “I need to hear you say it, babe,” Pierre said, taking a step forward, their noses almost touching. 

“I want you to ruin me.”

Pierre audibly groaned, capturing her lips in his before throwing her back on the bed, his hand moving to her back to undo the tie of her bikini top as his lips trailed down her neck. He threw the top off to one side, paying exactly zero attention to where it landed, as his hands slid up her waist to cup her breasts, his thumbs ghosting over her sensitive nipples. Laurel’s breath hitched in her throat. “You like that, baby?”

“Mhm,” Laurel whimpered, unable to form a complete sentence. 

He smirked, lowering his mouth to her chest, flicking his tongue over her right nipple as his hand pinched her left. The air was filled with breathless sighs from them both until Pierre’s hands left her breasts. Laurel whined in protest until she felt his fingers toying with her bikini bottoms, his head lifting just enough so that his eyes could meet hers. “This okay?”

It was all Laurel could do to choke out a single word. “Please.”

Pierre pulled them down her legs, kissing down, down to her hips, down to her inner thighs, down to everywhere except for where she needed him. “You need something, Laurel?” Pierre asked, his voice dripping with sex. 

Laurel groaned, not wanting to give in but also knowing that Pierre could stay where he was for hours if it meant teasing her. “Your mouth.” 

“As you wish.” And then his tongue was on her, and in her, and she couldn’t help but let out a moan. And Pierre was loving every second of it. He stayed down there for a while, long enough to finish her twice. 

Laurel pushed on his shoulder, trying to get him to turn on his back so she could return the favor. Pierre shook his head as he shucked his shorts off, pulling her head down to kiss her roughly. “I’m going to cum right here if I don’t get inside you in the next two minutes, babe.” He reached over to the nightstand, grabbing a condom. “Guess I’ll have to thank Josh for these when we get back home.”

She raised one eyebrow, clearly unamused. “If you do that, I can promise you I’ll never put your dick in my mouth. Not now, not ever.”

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, the foil packet shining between two fingers. “Alright, alright. I won’t.” He paused just before bringing the wrapper up to his teeth. “You want this?”

Laurel nodded frantically as he rolled the condom down his length. He looked so hard it was painful. “So bad.” He leaned down to kiss her, propped up on one arm as he pushed into her, hair falling into his face as he closed his eyes. He was too blissed out to be able to focus on anything other than how good she felt around him, how tight and warm and how well she fit, like Laurel Elizabeth Klerken was made for him and him alone. 

“More,” Laurel cried softly, and that was all it took for Pierre to grab one of her legs, throwing it around his hips as he increased his pace, head dropping to her neck as he nipped at her pulse points. It didn’t take long for Pierre to reach his high, Laurel right behind him. He pressed a sweet kiss to her forehead before getting up from the bed, going into the bathroom to tie off the condom and grab a washcloth. He cleaned up between her legs as Laurel lay there, trying to steady her breathing, absolutely spent from the night’s three orgasms. “Why didn’t we do that earlier?” Laurel murmured. 

Pierre laughed, throwing the cloth in the laundry basket and tilting down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. “I don’t know. But it was worth it.”

 February 20 (mon)

 Laurel had learned early on in her relationship with Pierre that she couldn’t put much stock into what was said on Twitter. Or Instagram, or any social media for that matter. So much was speculation: about draft picks, about trade rumors, about Pierre-Luc Dubois’ secret wife, that it just wasn’t useful or healthy for her so spend much time looking around. She still had her accounts, but Instagram was the only one she went on with any regularity nowadays. And she rarely checked her phone during the work day anyways; unless it was an unusually slow day  — which was never a good sign in the medical world — the only time she was even able to spare a glance was during her lunch break or when she’d run to the bathroom. So when her phone buzzed with a text from Pierre as she sat at the nurses’ station, her brow furrowed as she unlocked the screen. 

Are you free right now? I need to call you. 

Laurel bit her lip, nerves threatening to boil over. He knew her schedule, he knew she was at work. What could be so important that it couldn’t wait? Are you okay? Did something happen?

He typed a response as soon as her text showed as delivered.  I’m not hurt, it’s not bad, really, I just need to tell you something and I don’t want to have to do it over text. 

Laurel checked her watch. 11:18. It was early for a lunch break, but as long as she wasn’t needed, she could take her half hour any time between 11 and 1. She caught the eye of her charge nurse. “Claudette? I’m taking my lunch if that’s alright with you.” Claudette nodded, and Laurel quickly made her way to the locker room to grab her leftover pasta, texting Pierre on the way. Headed to the changing room now. Are you going to tell me what this is about?

Her phone rang a minute later, when she had just closed the door. She tapped the green button. “You’re going to have to tell me what’s going on here, P, because I’m kind of freaking out,” Laurel said, laughing nervously. “You don’t tell a girl what to expect, she starts assuming the worst.”

Pierre let out a heavy breath. She could imagine him running a hand through his hair on the other end. “I know, and I’m sorry if I worried you. I just needed to tell you before it breaks.”

“Before what breaks, Pierre?” Laurel’s anxiety was coming to a head. 

“I’m coming home.”

Laurel screwed her eyes shut, even more confused than she was before. “Yeah, Pierre, I know you’re playing here next week. Why would that be news?” 

“When’s the trade deadline, Laurel?”

“Last Monday in February, but I don’t see what that has…” She pulled the phone away from her ear, looking down at the screen, eyes locking on the date. “You got traded?” 

She could imagine him sitting down on the edge of his couch, one hand dangling off the side, Georgia trying to jump up and goad him into giving her a pet or two. “They’re breaking it right before the noon deadline, but you deserved to know before everyone else did. You needed to know.”

Laurel leaned up against her locker, hand over her mouth. “You’re coming to Montréal?” She had seen it mentioned offhand on a few Twitter accounts she followed the handful of times she had logged on in the past week, but nobody thought it would actually happen. Even the concept of trading him seemed so far-fetched with the type of season he was having in Columbus. He was sitting near 30 goals and 40 assists, with one of the best plus-minus scores on the team. It just didn’t make sense. 

“As of twenty minutes ago, I’m officially a Montréal Canadien,” Pierre answered. 

“Oh God,” Laurel said, sympathy lacing her voice. She couldn’t let herself be excited, wouldn’t let herself be excited, until she knew exactly how Pierre felt about it. He had just been uprooted from the team that drafted him, where he’d played for four seasons and made friends and where everyone saw him as the future of the franchise. 

Pierre let out a single laugh. “They let me know what the deal was, apparently Montréal really wanted me. First round pick next year, a second-year defenseman, some prospect from Laval.”

Laurel settled on the bench, tucking the phone under her chin. “Of course they really wanted you, P. You’re an incredible player, you’d be an asset to any team and you’re going to do great things in Montréal.” She paused. “But how are you feeling about the move? I know it’s not what you were expecting. Or what anyone was expecting, really.”

“It’s weird,” Pierre said after a moment. “Obviously yeah, I won’t lie, it’s a shock. But almost every player, even the really good ones, get traded at one point or another. Gretzky was traded to L.A.”

“Are you comparing yourself to Gretzky?” Laurel asked playfully. 

“No,” Pierre chuckled. “But just trying to remind myself that it was almost inevitable. I’m allowed to be sad about it — and I am, it’s going to fucking suck leaving the boys — but I’m not as torn up as I thought I’d be if this ever happened.” He felt more than a little bad about it, but his first thought when his agent called and broke the news wasn’t sadness, it wasn’t despair at having to leave the team he had been brought up in and the men he considered his brothers. It was relief. Relief that he could be closer to his family, relief that he’d be back with Laurel, relief that he was going home. “And hey,” he said, catching Laurel’s attention. “You know what?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “What?”

“I don’t even have to marry someone to move.”

---

Pierre’s flight got in late Tuesday night, just after Laurel’s shift at the hospital had ended. He had said he wouldn’t mind taking an Uber home so she didn’t have to rush over and stress about traffic, but Laurel didn’t care. She wanted to be at the airport to pick up her husband, even if it meant she’d still be in her scrubs doing it. 

She saw him exiting the sliding doors of the international terminal before she even turned the corner, practically slamming her car into park as soon as she hit the curb. Pierre dropped his bags when her car door opened, paying no attention to the thump of the suitcases as they hit the ground or the wandering eyes of passersby. Airports hadn’t always been his favorite place. They meant leaving the people he loved, going away from what was warm and familiar and safe. They usually meant uncertainty. But that had changed, Pierre thought, as his wife jumped into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as their lips met. Airports might just have become one of his favorite places. He pulled back from the kiss, their foreheads just barely touching. “Hi,” he said. 

Laurel smiled, the kind of smile that lit up rooms and made crying babies giggle and that Pierre was pretty sure was his favorite thing he’d ever seen in the world. “Welcome home.”

[devinsfm]

joe keery. cis male. he/him.  ／  jack devin just pulled up blasting video killed the radio star by the buggles — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old radio show host, i’ve heard they’re really impulsive, but that they make up for it by being so captivating. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say obscure vintage horror comics, blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods, and vivid descriptions of spine - chilling tales  . here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )

hey there, demons ! *ba tum tss* i’m sam and i never do this, but i really felt like it was time for a change, so i drew lots of inspiration from some of my favorite ocs and i love what i’ve come up with ! character info is under the cut and please feel free to message me if you would like to plot !

i. stats

𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢: jackson willard devin

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰: jack, spooky guy, the night watchman 

𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫: salem, massachusetts

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥: ocotber 31st, 1995

𝔷𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔠: scorpio

𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: demisexual

𝔬𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: host of the graveyard shift, a radio program airing every weeknight from 12am to 5am

𝔭𝔬𝔰. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: captivating, witty, resolute. 

𝔫𝔢𝔤. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: impulsive, gauche, naive.

ii. history

jackson willard “jack” devin was born on halloween day ( yes, really ) in salem massachusetts ( yes, really ). his mother stayed home with him as he was growing up while his father is a boston cop turned sheriff of the county and he’s an only child.

outside of the popular tourist spots, his hometown has a very close - knit, stuck in the 80s vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone for their entire lives because no one ever leaves and no one new ever moves in. phone and internet signals are nearly impossible to come by, so the local arcade and the video store still have quite a booming business in the year 2020. jack grew up in a not - so - typical small town suburban gothic environment, his dad’s income being just enough for them to get by every month.

he was an energetic kid who cycled through all sorts of interests, trying out everything from little league ( disaster ) to music lessons ( not as much of a disaster, but he wound up getting bored of it ). nothing seemed to really stick until he got his first horror comic : a vintage issue of tales from the crypt with tattered, yellowing pages. he was five years old and paid five cents for it at an elderly neighbor’s yard sale and from that moment on he was hooked. it started with the comics, but he quickly expanded his horizons to movies, books, and television in the genre of horror.

he got intro drawing and that was the only thing besides his newfound interest in horror that he could sit still for. at first he would just try to re - draw the panels in his comic books, but soon he was drawing anything and everything that caught his interest and he was getting good. he was being homeschooled by his mother at the time, but once friends and family and, well, everyone took notice of his skill, they were encouraging his parents to nurture his talent.

his parents fought about it. his dad didn’t see the value in his skill and wanted him to instead focus on academics, aspiring towards his son one day becoming a lawyer or a businessman or even following in his footsteps. jack never wanted that for himself. he was homeschooled by his mom up until then and she believed in him. it was with her blessing that he would go to a real school for the first time at the age of fourteen, starting off his freshman year at a high school that was a thirty minute train ride away in boston and catered exclusively to youth who demonstrated an exceptional talent in some area of the fine arts.

jack did well in school, but his grades probably would have been a lot better still if he didn’t start purposely acting out as his relationship with his dad got worse and worse. he started skipping classes, getting caught trespassing in cemeteries at 2am, and smoking a lot of weed. 

when it came time for college, jack planned to attend art school. he swears he did. he looked a few schools on the west coast to get away from his dad for a few years yikes and planned to apply, but on the deadline date he got so high that he forgot to submit his portfolios. yes, really.

he loaded up his van ( a turquiose monstrosity he painted to look like the mystery machine ) and headed out to california anyway after telling his parents that he would be attending UCLA. of course, they quickly found it that it was a lie and his dad was furious. the two got into a huge fight over the phone and things were said. the result is that jack and his father haven’t spoken to each other ever since. 

he did lots of odd jobs while he was on the road and basically lived in his van, which didn’t change right away when he decided to settle in LA, but he eventually got a job fetching coffee for the late night employees at a local radio station.

it was the typical, cliché story : the regular late night host called out of work at the last minute, there was no one else around and they were going to be on air in ten seconds. jack was thrown in front of the microphone and told to think fast !

he did, and the listeners loved him for it. whether it was his ramblings about horror movies or his thick boston accent or his reckless use of swear words on live radio, he turned out to be a massive hit. the successful night earned him a gig as an occasional substitute deejay, and with each broadcast he grew more and more popular, and about two years ago he was finally given his own program.

the graveyard shift is a radio program that airs every weeknight from 12am - 5am in the los angeles area and on apps such as iheartradio. jack hosts the show as his ( thinly veiled ) alter ego the night watchmen and discusses topics such as the paranormal, conspiracy theories, and all things horror. it’s one of the most popular programs of the time slot in the country.

it’s something that he never expected or picturing himself doing, but now he can’t imagine doing anything else. he’s become really passionate about revitalizing the field and bringing radio into the 21st century. he signed a HUGE contract with the studio when his show first started and now he’s a quite well known radio personality in the area and across the country.

iii. extras

huge stoner. high as fuck 90% of the time, and the other 10% of the time he’s probably still high, just not as fuck. 

well known for his on air antics. he’ll light a joint in the middle of his radio show, he’ll prank call a friend and broadcast it to the entire city, he’ll curse in every single sentence and skate by on the after hours excuse when he’s reprimanded for it. he’s so outlandish and bizarre and like nothing that’s ever been heard on the radio before, and it just draws people in.

he often seems shy in person, but it’s more like he’s just a little socially awkward, something which also shines through in occasional non - malicious but blunt remarks and general lack of regard for what people think of him. he really just...doesn’t care.

genuinely seems to believe it’s either halloween day and / or the year 1986 at any given moment as that’s about as recent as his pop culture references get. he’s never heard of the k*rdashians, he doesn’t know what the mcu is, and the phrase yeet means absolutely nothing to him. mention any of it to him and he’ll just stare blankly bc he honestly doesn’t have a clue.

HOWEVER, he did start the area 51 meme from last summer.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

still draws. especially if he has to still for a stretch of time, then he’ll take out his latest sketchbook ( he goes through a lot of them ) and start doodling. he’s still quite good, mostly in his favored comic - esque style.

BIG CHAOTIC ENERGY and ZERO IMPULSE CONTROL

a chatterbox with friends but don’t be fooled...he’s been giving his own dad the silent treatment for almost seven ( 7 ) years now. it’s his preferred method of expressing anger towards someone because he isn’t really a fan of confrontation, but he’s maybe a liiiittle bit stubborn.

most of the time he’s a really easygoing person, a good friend and very loyal to the people he cares about. well - meaning, not the best at advice but he’s more likely to try and cheer a person up anyway. 

he has a pet pied ball python named the crypt keeper ( tkc for short ) who he sometimes just carries with him because he likes to just chill wrapped around jack’s hand and arm. 

iv. wanted connections

maternal or paternal cousins ( their grandparents probably live in boston or new england but otherwise anything goes for this )

close friends

friends

guests on his radio show 

fans / haters of his radio show

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

exes ( 1 - 2, can be on good or bad terms )

“casually dating” but it might get real complicated soon - allie james

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with stuff, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

[whimsically-ominously-auspice]

Ive always liked Alex we always seemed to grow up together from NYC to Texas to Oklahoma he always seemed to be around

And he was usually pretty nice.

Even if he got on my nerve he always seemed to get me to like him, he's quite easy to talk to with a nice personality

So, he wanted pets and as long as he's not abusive to them then I told him he could. He, too was privileged to be asked what he wanted.

So in his next room he has fish, bunny, hamster, bathroom and a real bed and fluffy pillows.

He said "just a prison room and all the animals that can fit" and he asked for a pony. I was like dude no that's too much. Maybe a stuffed one.

In Jr high his dad was pretty abusive so he stayed at my goose often. I had bunk beds but he would fall asleep in the floor then climb up into his own bed. Or say "dad I'm cold" and shiver in the floor... And not get up. I learned to get up off the opposite end of the bed and turn on the light and tell him to open his eyes and shake his foot otherwise he would grab mu leg and try to fight me while he was asleep. Then i would pull him a blanket down and cover him he would ask me "who are you?"

Id tell him "im your friend from school"

Sometimes he would tell me he didnt go to school or say "school I miss that place" and/or ask if i kidnapped him

I learned to tell him i did kidnap him otherwise he would sleep walk all over and I would find him in the pagan's yard asleep or some other random place in the morning.

Cause in his mind he thought "if I'm not kidnapped I'm free to leave"

And he was but not while sleeping.

And so if i had to tell him he was kidnapped he would ask if he could eat. I learned to tell him, "in the morning" otherwise I would make food he wouldn't eat or he would sleep cook and I would hear him choking and coughing.

Usually we played 20 questions. Sometimes I pretended to be asleep and he would climb in my bed like a little kid "I said who are you?!?!?"

Eventually i learned to say "Sabrina, you're safe for tonight, all the doors and windows are closed and locked, you're free to sleep in the house right where you are" then he would snore deeply until morning.

Sometimes he just showed up at my door, looking like some kind of wreck. "I just need a place to sleep. I don't eat"

But I would make him food and he would eat like he hadn't in days.

Just one of them ruffian kids that wouldn't make you feel sorry for him, you just did.

Whenever I looked at him in Oklahoma somehow he just made me cry. I didn't even remember him and we rarely talked he lived at this party house I sometimes went to down the street from my grammas.

He went down to Lawton a lot. That's where a lot of us got our weed. They all said that was where he was from.

Lawton was a distribution center for Mexican red hair from what I heard. That was all I smoked. Sometimes we had yellow hair...

One time me and Steph drove him to OKC to catch a bus because the fare was cheaper and he didn't have a car. He went to Lawton to "check on stuff"

He wasn't always rich or a jerk.

He is just who he is

So he has a phone now so his live feed will be turned off

As it was explained they only have live feeds for their loved ones because they don't have a phone with internet. He has a Galaxy 9 Note. So its a lot bigger than the others and what he had before. He had requested a large phone and computer as well. And a desk and its in his other room

So some people like Jesse have the ability to tunnel and make new rooms and he has two concrete rooms and 2 bathroom areas. And the one in the new room has a privacy curtain as requested. So he can shit in the nude and not all the guys be looking.

Jesse's hands do not hurt, too much. And he's convinced they're love bites from his demon wife he found on the beach. So he's happier. Yes he did request such a woman. He's quieter as well.

Which I like.

The winds came and destroyed Nathaniel's outdoor cameras with extreme fury at the house. So that was interesting.

My air conditioner was on 60°F and I turned it up to 69° and it was better but it worked attentively better when I turned it up two degrees to 71° I tried various degrees up to 75° but 71° works best.

I also tried "dry mode" which removes humidity from the air which worked well until it began to rain then,it was miserable again.

So meddle with your air conditioner numbers until you feel the best coolest air flow.

And it's good to try it at night ... To find the absolute best.. If it works well when it's cool it will be working as best as possible when it's 105° real feel and it's less frustrating. You just know its the best you got even if it's not good enough

Right now with the rain and humidity it makes it more complicated so it's better right at dusk

Stay hydrated and peaceful.

I know I'm being kind to prisoners whom don't rightly deserve kindness but their punishments are harsh. And what kind of person am I if I'm just mean to everyone?

Well.. If you ask me... Well..

There's this philosophy that being great to people invokes guilt. The feeling they have wronged. Most especially while being punished. They realize they should have treated better when they had their freedom.

It only works while they're incarcerated. Once they obtain their freedom they're like a flesh eating bacteria and go back to their bullshit

So we are very aware of this. So while they are not mistreated and their accomodations are as they wished and some get better over time as it is earned.

They will stay there. I did make contingency for work release but I am told NHRA has not allowed them to be on The schedule which I do appreciate

Nd it is for the safety

Matt Hagan got 2 ten pound bowling balls.

The reason we have low pounds is because our guards -- heavy weights thrown at guards can be very damaging. So a guard can take a 10 pound bowling ball to the gut but not a 30 or 50.

Amd they're bowling balls at 10 or 15 pounds because they're harder to handle these don't have holes. So if they're practising throwing them then they get taken away.

So then when they have weights and they go outside they have to put them on the bed or opposite side of the door along the wall, be handcuffed through the food slot and then they have to stand in the middle of the room and do a count down breathing and stretching session and then they approach the door then they can be foot shackled and the prisoner connects it themself

So you have wrist handcuffs and feet then a chain from both so they can't swing their arms and hit others.

Once connected it needs a key to unlock but it shows trust and cooperation and it's a good exercise

They keep their exercise equipment if they connect their cuffs correct. Its almost impossible not to. And they get shown how.

The guard can do it but it's an attempt to allow independence and recognition of choices and self authority and to say "you got yourself in this situation, take responsibility"

The guard didn't do bad things to have to be there. The prisioner did. The last straw for them to be properly arrested was what they did.

We allowed them 12 years. And they all made "bets" aka promises and so on and so forth. And they failed at being civilized human beings..

Jesse James wrote with shit on the wall and then ate shit the first night.

That is an obvious failure.

Its what he always does tho. But he has to live in it and clean it because he chose to do that and no one is going in his cell

That's his room. There is times that guards will but normally it's not necessary and it won't happen.

Alex will to have help with his animals but that's a little different it's for the animals welfare. Its once per week.

Like for their trash they have to request trash receptacle. They can pick the size or have a large and small and they have to request trash bags. Then they fill and Tie It and show the guard or cameras and then they have to place it 2 foot from the door and then stand on their bed or at the opposite wall and spread 'em arrested style. Arms and legs spread, hands against the wall back to the door. For guard safety. Then the guard gets it and locks the door and let's them know by saying the equivalent of "okay" in the language of the day. If the prisoner doesn't respond, the guard knocks on the door.

Its their room. Their house. Someone is at the door.

Then they say thank you in the language of the day when they respond and remove from their position.

Otherwise they have to be shackled. So this is simpler and easier and allows trust and cooperation and human decency and also the reminder they're in prison.

But most trash is food and so most just put it all back on their tray when the guard comes to collect.

So there's an old fashioned slot so if they tray falls to the hall. There's a basket there that should catch the tray and trash.

If they throw the tray out to make a mess in the hall, the tray of their food is covered with a light non tight layer of saran wrap then shoved through the slot to make it fly and make a mess.

The loose layer of saran is to protect the food... But at the same time it's loose and the point is made. As Well as a mess.

And then betrer behavior occurs.

So it's obvious who is in control but sometimes they wanna try their hand. But I'm a very angry person so my prison personnel puts up with nothing.

They don't question or wonder. What is done to them, they do in return.

They have their rules of humanity but when prisoners go on the wind, the guards blow back.

So if they get hit, 3 guards hit the prisoner. Always. And then rights get taken away. And all kinds of shit happens.

So we try to prevent violence against each other because if a prison riot occurs, my guards will be out of jobs.

So everyone has their own rooms and their wishes and they can ask and get nearly anything

Matt for example got 10 pound weights because he had a large body mass of muscle. And so that is what he worked for and earned. So he gets a 10 pound. And we go up to 15 but Idk i guess he didn't ask for top weights.

But the point is also he can do weights all day long as opposed to just half a day. And he can max the muscles if done properly.

But someone with smaller muscle mass will get a lighter weight

Like I said to protect the guard but also to protect the user of the weightsm too heavy can cause damage.

Going to a smooth bowling ball is cumbersome as opposed to weights with handles which of course is why he didn't get the 15 lb. He needs 2 weeks or so on the lighter ball in case he dropps it on his head or something like that and there is great over the head exercise. So I'm not being dumb.. It could happen.

So we treat them like we would kids

Like with Alex... Some of them never have been. And so they need that.

I know if i was always abused and treated like shit and had one year to live as they do with COVID, id like to be treated humane. I'd like to be treated like i had a mom and dad out there that love me.

I'm an orphan and i have been abused and I'm a good person. But I have been to jail. Arrested for real as an adult. So.

I been there. Just for a little bit. It was for weed and telling a cop he sucked. Some felonies. I went to rehab with Alex and it's all off my record now.

So it wasn't a super bad thing.

But if it had been....

I care about me, and i put myself in some places i could be in. And I try to make them better.

Me? I don't like being touched so having the last part of the cuff system up to me to put on -- it says like 'you know, i dont really want to touch you either.'

Like its a little bit of space around me just being able to do one little clip. A little bit of extra room in a super scary situation, being a girl, alone. Anything could happen... But.. I clip it right I have some argument space like "you can't rape me. I'm a model prisioner. I always clip my cuffs right! I'll tell they will believe me! You'll lose your job!"

So it's a privilege. As well as the acceptance of responsibility. I'm not the guard. But i got me here and im gonna be kept here but I'm safe.

[devinfm]

joe keery. cis male. he/him.  ／  jack devin just pulled up blasting video killed the radio star by the buggles — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old radio show host, i’ve heard they’re really impulsive, but that they make up for it by being so captivating. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say obscure vintage horror comics, blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods, and vivid descriptions of spine - chilling tales  . here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )

hey there, demons! *ba tum tss* i’m sam and i also write parker ( @prkrfm​​ ) which is the best place to contact me for plotting!

i. stats

𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢: jackson willard devin

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰: jack, spooky guy, the night watchman

𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫: salem, massachusetts

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥: ocotber 31st, 1995

𝔷𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔠: scorpio

𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: demisexual

𝔬𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: host of the graveyard shift, a radio program airing every weeknight from 12am to 5am

𝔭𝔬𝔰. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: captivating, witty, resolute.

𝔫𝔢𝔤. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: impulsive, gauche, naive.

ii. history

jackson willard “jack” devin was born on halloween day ( yes, really ) in salem massachusetts ( yes, really ). his mother stayed home with him as he was growing up while his father is a boston cop turned sheriff of the county and he has one sibling, a younger sister.

outside of the popular tourist spots, his hometown has a very close - knit, stuck in the 80s vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone for their entire lives because no one ever leaves and no one new ever moves in. phone and internet signals are nearly impossible to come by, so the local arcade and the video store still have quite a booming business in the year 2020. jack grew up in a not - so - typical small town suburban gothic environment, his dad’s income being just enough for them to get by every month.

he was an energetic kid who cycled through all sorts of interests, trying out everything from little league ( disaster ) to music lessons ( not as much of a disaster, but he wound up getting bored of it ). nothing seemed to really stick until he got his first horror comic : a vintage issue of tales from the crypt with tattered, yellowing pages. he was five years old and paid five cents for it at an elderly neighbor’s yard sale and from that moment on he was hooked. it started with the comics, but he quickly expanded his horizons to movies, books, and television in the genre of horror.

he got intro drawing and that was the only thing besides his newfound interest in horror that he could sit still for. at first he would just try to re - draw the panels in his comic books, but soon he was drawing anything and everything that caught his interest and he was getting good. he was being homeschooled by his mother at the time, but once friends and family and, well, everyone took notice of his skill, they were encouraging his parents to nurture his talent.

his parents fought about it. his dad didn’t see the value in his skill and wanted him to instead focus on academics, aspiring towards his son one day becoming a lawyer or a businessman or even following in his footsteps. jack never wanted that for himself. he was homeschooled by his mom up until then and she believed in him. it was with her blessing that he would go to a real school for the first time at the age of fourteen, starting off his freshman year at a high school that was a thirty minute train ride away in boston and catered exclusively to youth who demonstrated an exceptional talent in some area of the fine arts.

jack did well in school, but his grades probably would have been a lot better still if he didn’t start purposely acting out as his relationship with his dad got worse and worse. he started skipping classes, getting caught trespassing in cemeteries at 2am, and smoking a lot of weed.

when it came time for college, jack planned to attend art school. he swears he did. he looked a few schools on the west coast to get away from his dad for a few years yikes and planned to apply, but on the deadline date he got so high that he forgot to submit his portfolios. yes, really.

he loaded up his van ( a turquiose monstrosity he painted to look like the mystery machine ) and headed out to california anyway after telling his parents that he would be attending UCLA. of course, they quickly found it that it was a lie and his dad was furious. the two got into a huge fight over the phone and things were said. the result is that jack and his father haven’t spoken to each other ever since.

he did lots of odd jobs while he was on the road and basically lived in his van, which didn’t change right away when he decided to settle in LA, but he eventually got a job fetching coffee for the late night employees at a local radio station.

it was the typical, cliché story : the regular late night host called out of work at the last minute, there was no one else around and they were going to be on air in ten seconds. jack was thrown in front of the microphone and told to think fast !

he did, and the listeners loved him for it. whether it was his ramblings about horror movies or his thick boston accent or his reckless use of swear words on live radio, he turned out to be a massive hit. the successful night earned him a gig as an occasional substitute deejay, and with each broadcast he grew more and more popular, and about two years ago he was finally given his own program.

the graveyard shift is a radio program that airs every weeknight from 12am - 5am in the los angeles area and on apps such as iheartradio. jack hosts the show as his ( thinly veiled ) alter ego the night watchman and discusses topics such as the paranormal, conspiracy theories, and all things horror. it’s one of the most popular programs of the time slot in the country.

it’s something that he never expected or picturing himself doing, but now he can’t imagine doing anything else. he’s become really passionate about revitalizing the field and bringing radio into the 21st century. he signed a HUGE contract with the studio when his show first started and now he’s a quite well known radio personality in the area and across the country.

iii. extras

huge stoner. high as fuck 90% of the time, and the other 10% of the time he’s probably still high, just not as fuck.

well known for his on air antics. he’ll light a joint in the middle of his radio show, he’ll prank call a friend and broadcast it to the entire city, he’ll curse in every single sentence and skate by on the after hours excuse when he’s reprimanded for it. he’s so outlandish and bizarre and like nothing that’s ever been heard on the radio before, and it just draws people in.

he often seems shy in person, but it’s more like he’s just a little socially awkward, something which also shines through in occasional non - malicious but blunt remarks and general lack of regard for what people think of him. he really just…doesn’t care.

genuinely seems to believe it’s either halloween day and / or the year 1986 at any given moment as that’s about as recent as his pop culture references get. he’s never heard of the k*rdashians, he doesn’t know what the mcu is, and the phrase yeet means absolutely nothing to him. mention any of it to him and he’ll just stare blankly bc he honestly doesn’t have a clue.

HOWEVER, he did start the area 51 meme from last summer.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

still draws. especially if he has to still for a stretch of time, then he’ll take out his latest sketchbook ( he goes through a lot of them ) and start doodling. he’s still quite good, mostly in his favored comic - esque style.

BIG CHAOTIC ENERGY and ZERO IMPULSE CONTROL

a chatterbox with friends but don’t be fooled…he’s been giving his own dad the silent treatment for almost seven ( 7 ) years now. it’s his preferred method of expressing anger towards someone because he isn’t really a fan of confrontation, but he’s maybe a liiiittle bit stubborn.

most of the time he’s a really easygoing person, a good friend and very loyal to the people he cares about. well - meaning, not the best at advice but he’s more likely to try and cheer a person up anyway.

he has a pet pied ball python named the crypt keeper ( tkc for short ) who he sometimes just carries with him because he likes to just chill wrapped around jack’s hand and arm.

iv. wanted connections

maternal or paternal cousins ( their grandparents probably live in boston or new england but otherwise anything goes for this )

close friends

friends

guests on his radio show

fans / haters of his radio show

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

exes ( 1 - 2, can be on good or bad terms )

“casually dating” but it might get real complicated soon - allie james

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with stuff, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

[jemej3m]

to the moon and back (p1)

a softer high school au because i love high school aus fuck off i know ive written like ten 

also, boys like you (by Who Is Fancy) is a gay vibe and is absolutely the vibe of this fic

part one | part two | part three

Andrew swung his legs from where he was sitting on the picnic table, glaring at Renee sitting beneath him. She grinned with crossed legs, pushing at his feet so they would swing.

Andrew, spiteful as ever, didn’t move unless he had to. Moving was motion and motion caught people’s attention and if Andrew gave him the chance, Kevin would continue to plead with him on refusing to join the exy team.

His brother was on it. His best friends were on it. They played a tonne of cute guys from other schools. That was Kevin’s pathetic attempt at appealing to Andrew, to which Andrew had taken his shiny, new pocket knife and stabbed it into the school cafeteria’s table by Kevin’s clenched fist.

It was only the four at this table - Renee, Kevin, Aaron and himself - who knew about Andrew being gay, and Betsy -- of course.

He’d backed off after that, but Kevin’s cool-down period for pissing Andrew off was irritatingly short. He sat, barely a metre away, looking on at Andrew and Renee silently. Aaron was texting, probably that simpering junior Katelyn. Andrew didn’t like it, but what was he supposed to do about it?

You’re just jealous you don’t have a girlfriend. Aaron had teased him the other week, when Andrew grumbled about his twin’s obsession with the girl. Andrew then sneered about probably being able to fool Katelyn into thinking he was Aaron, and then Betsy had to quell their little cat fight.

They never fought about anything seriously. They’d been thrown into the foster system together at birth, and adopted by Betsy a week after their 10th birthdays. They had fought to survive together: Logically, Andrew knew Katelyn wouldn’t put a divide between something like that. But Aaron was the logical one, and sometimes Andrew couldn’t help but let his anxiety win.

Renee tugged on his sneakers to catch his attention. “How was tutoring yesterday?”

He rolled his eyes with heightened exaggeration. “I got stuck with some kid who’s absolutely abysmal with Literature and History. He can’t drop them, because he’s at the bare minimum, so he’s practically going to be riding me so he can pass all his exams. Typical jock.”

Andrew didn’t add that Neil Josten was hopelessly attractive.

“Well, who is it?” Kevin demanded, in his usual Kevin fashion. He really had no idea how to do anything lightly.

“Neil Josten. Year below us.”

The green-eyed boy looked relieved. “Oh, thank god. Coach was going to kick him off the team if he didn’t focus more on school.”

Wait. What?

“He’s on the fucking exy team.” Andrew muttered under his breath. He couldn’t believe his luck.

“Since when were you on the fucking exy team?” Andrew dropped his things onto the table, not caring about the glowers that other students of the library sent his way for being obnoxiously disruptive.

Andrew is often obnoxiously disruptive in class, but performs extremely well in examinations. He must do a lot of studying at home to achieve that result: He might find that he would have plenty of leisure time if he just listened in class, rather than talking to other students or sleeping.

His report comments were always interesting, as were Betsy’s reactions.

Neil flinched at the noise, which was new. Then he shrugged, avoiding Andrew’s gaze. “Since I started.”

“Right.” Andrew drawled. “And you didn’t think to mention it to me, considering we’re trying to improve your grades to keep you on said team?”

“Sorry.” Neil muttered.

He paused. The boy was awfully withdrawn for an unknown reason: Neil Josten was all spitfire and burning scorn, with bouncing red curls, ice-like blue eyes and freckled cheeks, marred by horrific scarring. He told people it was surgery and acne. That was bullshit: It had to be. “I didn’t want an apology. I want a reason why.”

He shrugged again. “You hate Kevin Day. I didn’t think it would be a good idea to mention him.”

Andrew snorted. “Kevin’s been one of my closest friends since middle school. But I do hate him. He sucks all the way to the moon and back. He wont shut the fuck up about exy because we used to play together.”

“You did?” Neil shot up, the spark somewhat returning to his eye. “You play exy?”

“No.” Andrew told the one-track minded jock. “Get your work out. I’m giving up my time for a reason.”

Neil rolled his eyes. “You volunteered for it.”

No, he didn’t. He was avoiding detention. He told Neil so, but the boy still smirked.

“You still chose to tutor me that sit in a room on your own, which I thought was more your style.”

“Fuck off.” Andrew said decidedly and poked him in the cheek with a pen. Neil scrubbed it off quickly, looking worriedly at the ink coming off on his fingers. Andrew forced himself not to care.

Neil was truly hopeless with these subjects. He might be fluent in multiple others and a natural with mathematic equations, but trying to wrack his brain for anything he could remember about King Lear or the Treaty of Versailles was like getting a stone to bleed.

By the time the hour was over, Andrew’s head hurt. Despite the obvious aggravation Neil caused, he couldn’t get himself to give it up. Neil was too interesting.

When they left the library it was dark outside and the last stragglers like themselves were being shooed off campus. Andrew marched straight to his car. It was excessively expensive, due to the twins receiving their mother’s life inheritance and an extra tidbit from Betsy. They’d never met her: they just knew she was estranged from her brother and the rest of her family, which was why they’d received the money instead.

When Neil didn’t follow, he paused to call out to him. “Junkie.” He’d been dropping Neil home after every session thus far. Something had changed.

Neil didn’t look at him. “I’ve got a few errands to run.”

Andrew didn’t press it and left Neil standing alone and dejected on the sidewalk.

“Cut the shit. What’s going on?”

Andrew stayed behind the doorway, listening to the conversation. Wymack wasn’t a gentle person, but this was his compassionate side at work: Pulling his athletes aside and getting to the bottom of their problems. He claimed it was to make sure they lived up to his expectations on court, but that was bullshit. Wymack was an absolute grouch of a softy.

“I’m fine, coach.” Neil said. Typical.

“Bullcrap. You could barely keep up with Kevin this morning, and you’re usually running your little heart out, way ahead of him. What’s wrong.”

A moment of pause.

“Nothing, coach. Just a late night.”

Andrew, Wymack and Neil all knew that they could see right through his lies. Well, Wymack and Neil didn’t know he was there. But that was besides the point.

“Scram, Josten.” He said tiredly.

Andrew vanished before Neil had the chance to flee the man’s office. It didn’t need any convincing: Andrew was going to get to the bottom of the stupid, pretty-faced Exy junkie’s strange behaviour.

It was a new, perplexing puzzle to solve. Andrew stopped his jog a distance away from the coach’s office and watched the boy cross the courtyard. Neil glanced at him only once before ducking his head and running off.

Andrew was only doing this because Neil was interesting. Not because he cared. No, not at all.

“Come here.” Andrew snapped.

It was a bad day. He’d woken up in an awful mood, and nothing could improve it. Small, usually insignificant events had turned his mood from sour to volatile and he was itching to get home and into bed, turn off the lights and hide under the covers with Aaron and play on their old Nintendos until Betsy joined them with hot cocoa and marshmallows. Every gaze upon him was sickening, every noise around him making him wince.

Neil, despite his harsh words and reprimands throughout the hour, hadn’t seemed afraid of him. He looked exhausted but not scared as he approached Andrew’s hunched figure on the hood of his car.

Carefully, Neil took the cigarette from between Andrew’s fingers and looked at it, almost melancholic. When it began to wither away, he took a drag and coaxed it slowly back to life. He breathed out slowly, without coughing or choking. Then he slotted the cigarette back between Andrew’s unmoving fingers.

Fuck you. He thought, bitterly. He thought about Drake, his first boyfriend, and how he had ruined everything for Andrew. Maybe he wouldn’t be so scared to kiss Neil, if it weren’t for Drake. Maybe he’d be finally comfortable with his sexuality, if it weren’t for Drake. Maybe he would be able to go through a school day without being terrified for Aaron’s safety if it weren’t for Drake. He would never had needed to lie to Aaron and Betsy, if it weren’t for Drake.

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, his mind continued. Neil was looking at him with a blank stare. “Give me one good reason not to cut your throat.”

“You called me over here.” He reminded Andrew. Andrew wanted to sneer, but he was spread too thin today. “Andrew, I’m not scared of you.”

“You’re so stupid.” He ground out.

“Maybe.” Neil agreed.

“Why haven’t you asked what’s wrong?” He demanded, stubbing out his cigarette. His back was hurting from sitting like this, but being on the car’s hood gave him a height advantage over Neil. Neil had to crane his neck up to see him, but he was still unafraid. “Everyone asks what’s wrong.”

“I already know something’s wrong.” Neil shrugged. “I don’t need to know what, or why.”

They were very different, then. Neil was complacent to exist, to have everything at face-value, to accept what he was given and never take more. Andrew was deprived of so much that he grabbed for what he could. Two different methods of coping. Two different boys.

And yet, the same sense of understanding, shared between them.

“Let me drive you home.” Andrew said.

“I can’t.” Neil replied.

Andrew nodded and dismissed him with a flick of his fingers. He watched Neil walk away and didn’t move until he was well out of his sight. Then he sighed, hopped off the car and spent the drive home thinking of an excuse as to why he was later than usual for his adoptive mother.

It never worked. He almost always told her the truth.

There were three taps on his bedroom door the next morning, a Saturday morning, which wasn’t what woke Andrew: It never was. His meds made him sleep extremely heavily, which would be sickeningly dangerous if he wasn’t living in a house with only his mother and his brother.

What awoke him was the smell of hot chocolate being brought into the room, and the shrill tone of the home phone’s end dial. He hated that fucking thing, but Betsy needed it because she couldn’t use her mobile for work-related emergencies. His eyes flickered open as his mom settled the mug by his bed.

“Thanks.” He mumbled into the pillow.

“Feeling steadier?” Betsy stroked his hair carefully, knowing that was all she was allowed to do.

He nodded. She smiled gently and offered him the phone. “A friend of yours called. He said to call him back.”

Andrew sat up too quickly, considering he’d skipped dinner. His mouth tasted like July roadkill, having not drunk any water since midafternoon yesterday and his head throbbed. It was all familiar. He snatched the phone and pouted underneath Betsy’s shrewd look. She poked his nose and left the bedroom just as quickly as she’d entered.

The only ‘friend’ Andrew had who didn’t have his mobile number was Neil - mostly because Neil didn’t have a phone himself, but also because asking to talk outside of their tutoring sessions would be admitting to his interest in Neil, which was, obviously, completely crap. Andrew couldn’t care less about him.

“Come to my Exy game.” Neil said, before Andrew’d had the chance to ask him what the fuck did he think he was doing, and how the fuck he got this number. “Ple-” He cut himself off.

Andrew almost forgot they’d had that conversation.

“That’s a lot of please’s in one sentence.” Neil remarked, looking at the practise exam questions for his lit. exam. Andrew snatched the paper off him and looked: The excerpt was two sentences from some random book he’d never heard of. He got a pen and scribbled it out with more aggression than intended.

“You don’t have to do that question.” He decided, re-centring himself easily.

“What did ‘Ballad to Impress’ do to you?” Neil snorted.

“I hate that word.” He answered. “Don’t do the question.”

The boy just nodded. “Okay.”

“Why the fuck am I going to come to your Exy game?”

“I’ll tell you anything you want to know. Just come.”

Now that caught Andrew’s attention. “One question and one honest answer.”

“Yes.” He sounded nervous. “It starts in half an hour: It’s a home game. Will you be there?”

Andrew had to admit, Neil was impossible to deny. “Yes, junkie.”

He let out a sigh of relief, as though he’d been holding it in. “Okay. Thank you.”

“Shut up.” Andrew hung up.

He threw the phone off the bed and flopped back, staring at the ceiling, his mind and heart simultaneously racing.

He definitely hated Neil Josten. So much. All the way to the moon and back.  

:)

[jackblankhsh]

Why I Quit:  Public Relations

“Wow, that is a lot of blood.”

“Thanks.  It’s not mine.  I hit a pig on the way over.”

“Cop pig, or pig pig?”

“Cop riding a pig actually.  It’s a whole thing, I don’t really have time to get into.  Could I get a waffle cone full of mint chocolate chip?”

“No problem.”

I handed the woman her ice cream cone.  She took a lick that inspired a deep lusty bite.  The look of elation on her face – comforting cold wrapping around a burning soul – I envied that degree of satisfaction, wanted to be her.  Then a bullet whipped through the front door.  Her head exploded.  Though her body fell she did not drop the cone.  I distinctly remember a bit of brain erupting from her skull, flying over the counter, and landing in the slot full of cherries.  It sank into the maraschino pool, and I doubt anyone but me saw it vanish.  There to lurk until one day spooned onto a sundae.  

On the news that evening, a perky anchor addressed the city, “Good evening, Chicago.  This is the news.  25 people shot yesterday, all of them dead.  Cubs won their home opener, and the weather may get up into the 80s this weekend.  Isn’t that great?”

Co-anchor cocked an eyebrow, “Cubs win, and 80 degrees on the way?  Can’t get much better.”

All smiles then, leaving the grim behind.  No details.  The less known the less thought about, except I couldn’t stop wondering if office work might now be a safer profession.  In a skyscraper high above the streets full of swarms of stray bullets unintentionally murdering randomly – I decided to jump ship, but not until sight of land.  In other words, I’d stick it out at the ice cream parlor until another job came along.  I would not have to wait long.

The next day I arrived to find my manager listening to an androgynous figure in a three piece suit.  Introductions quickly ensued.

“Indigo Jackson,” turned out to be a representative of a family, whom for legal purposes will have to remain anonymous, though suffice it to say they felt yesterday’s event warranted some kind of response on their part.  To that end, without suggesting any culpability, they saw fit to replace the entire front of the store with bulletproof glass, in order to allay any concerns from patrons or employees as to the safety of our establishment; and offered to compensate me to the tune of ten thousand dollars for having witnessed the “unpleasantness;” though of course all such matters required, first, the signing of several documents Indigo summarized adroitly, escorting us through a murky swamp of legalese without ever really explaining what signing those papers meant, despite implications abounding:  here big sack ‘o’ cash, sign for it, and shut up forever.  

When at last Indigo inquired, “Do you understand?”

I said, “It must be interesting to have a job where you need to be so definitely opaque, yet somehow understood enough people do what you ask.”

Indigo nodded, “It is.”  

“I kind of want to give that a try.”

“Are you saying you want a job instead of the money?”

“Can’t I have both?  It was a very disturbing sight.”

Indigo said, “Something can be arranged.”

Clapping my hands together, “Great.  Then before I quit, how about I make you a cherry sundae?”

“Sounds good.”

#

The next day I ascended to the top of the Monadnock Building.  Once upon a time the largest skyscraper in America – circa 1893 – it still towered in its own way, evolving over the century into a marvelous amalgamation of early aesthetics and modern technological convenience.  Brick full of invisible wifi threads connecting the past, present, and future; tap a foot on red tile mosaic patterns, while listening to the lasted streaming playlist, killing time till the rush hour clog gives way.  Then up steps adorned first in ornate aluminum cast decorations then on upper floors, bronze-plated cast iron staircases, shunning the elevator for a chance to walk through history… and maybe feeling no hurry to be at work on time.  

Into the office to start a brand new –

“You the new guy?  Follow me.”  A balding man in a sweat stained shirt grabbed me by the elbow.  He pulled me into the office muttering as he poured over emails.  His phone rang.  He threw it on the floor.  I felt it crunch under foot, and before I could apologize an intern materialized from behind a file cabinet, handed him a fresh phone, and the muttering commenced once again.  Though this time I deciphered a bit, “Goddamn turkey fuckering pirates.”

The office buzzed with activity.  Hordes of hollow eyed business people in various states of decay, internal and external, paced the space examining documents, paper and electronic.  A middle aged man in a thread bare double breasted suit sniffed ketamine off a tablespoon, while his colleague, a young woman in a pencil skirt, slugged vodka the way the thirsty chug water.  I only caught a snippet of their exchange:

“We can’t apologize for lactose intolerance.”

“But we can apologize for a cheeseburger having cheese.” In another space a grey skinned wax figure waited for a nurse to change an IV bag dripping morphine.  Surrounded by an assortment of young professionals, the room seemed like a cult of silence devoted to holding a secret.  A woman in tortoise shell glasses spun the cylinder of a revolver, put it to her temple, and when she heard the click, sighed, took a shot of whiskey, and started reading a letter.  I heard the distinct clatter of keyboards being hammered, and riding crops striking bare flesh.

“Thank you Miss!  May I have another?”

Yet in all the seeming chaos the workers managed to flow between one another efficiently, an almost elegant ballet of the damned.

The person towing me through the scene remarked, “I’m Bernie.  For now.  Tomorrow, I don’t know.  It depends.  Don’t ask on what.  Point being, your job is to write back to the beggars.  Got it?”

“Okay.”

“Good.  Here’s your space.”  And with that Bernie detached his hand, leaving me adrift by a state of the art computer atop a turn of the century desk.  Stepping over a chalk outline, I took a seat at my desk.

“Don’t worry about that.”

I looked up to find a young lady in red.  

She nodded at the chalk outline, “Horace Fletcher.  Good guy.  Killed himself.”

“Does everybody here talk in staccato sentences.”

She smiled, “Force of habit, I’m afraid.  There’s a lot to do, and no time to do it in,” extending a hand, “I’m Patty.”

Thanks to Patty, I discovered the true parameters of my job.  Public relations is almost a tautology.  It’s name defines what it is:  relating to the public.  However, that covers a broad spectrum of ways to relate.  The top floor of the Monadnock Building devoted itself to public relations for the {redacted} family.  This involved everything from composing explanations, summaries, and denials regarding the family’s various scandals, philanthropies, business, and political concerns.  Each concern being the focus of different groups, or perhaps divisions is more appropriate:  mercenary artisans trying to paint realities.

As Patty put it, “We wrap the shit in gold, and draw all eyes to a drop in the bucket.”

When I said, “Bernie put me in charge of the 'beggars?’”

Patty got a bit misty, “Entry level stuff.  Enjoy your innocence.”

I wanted to inform Patty about my time as a sounding assistant, sterilizing metal rods used by a dominatrix to widen the hole in a penis so that objects such as fingers could be inserted into said dick-hole; however, I could tell she enjoyed the idea of my innocence so much that it would be wrong to rob her of it.  So I kept my penis stories to myself.  

The “beggars” turned out to be anyone writing to the {redacted} family asking for money.  This also constituted a broad spectrum.  On any given day I went through about fifty missives soliciting money in myriad ways.  Long lost cousins sought financial reconnection with relatives; for the low, low price of 20 grand, black sheep offered to keep silent about buried bodies; and any number of other unrecognized spawn demanding financial acknowledgement.  Meanwhile, inventors who swore to be on the verge of paradigm shifting breakthroughs – teleportation, antigravity, freeze rays, and orgasm pills – just needed another few thousand to revolutionize the world.  Folks from places like Telluride, Colorado, Marfa, Texas, and Stockbridge, Massachusetts sought coin to start hospitals for broken hearts, agencies devoted to finding lost pets, and the Fuck You Ashley Tillerman Institute.  Cash to stop the Martian invasion.  Funds to get the invasion going.  

Every day I dipped into a cornucopia full of the well intentioned, insane, and grifters.  After about two weeks, it got hard to tell the difference between them.  This mainly having to do with the fact my response to each, as instructed, remained forever always NO.  

Patty said, “You have to read the letters.  That way you can put in a personal touch.  Then they feel like someone actually considered giving them money, and we get less hate mail.  Believe me, you don’t want to piss off that department.  They have the best drugs.”

So I did my best to be accommodating:

“Dear madam,

We appreciate your desire to build a National Hardware Store Historical Society.  Hardware stores provide Americans with the means to build the future, and maintain the present.  However, we don’t feel that our company is the best one to get behind this endeavor.  Perhaps a major home improvement retailer might be a better fit.  

Best of luck in your pursuit.

Sincerely, {redacted}”

An intern near the coffee room enjoyed the task of rubber stamping signatures onto all correspondence.  The kid sat in a weed slack fog of delight, stamp, stamp, stamping the day away.  On more than one occasion I found myself along with others enviously eying that intern.   According to office folklore, the top floor of the Monadnock Building was purchased because a bygone patriarch of the {redacted} family said, “The city is in charge of cleaning the sidewalk.  So if they’re going to kill themselves, let them jump to their death.  Then we won’t have to pay for the mess.”  So it’s no surprise how many of us came to envy that intern’s pacific demeanor while happily assisting in the distribution of our gilded shit.  It didn’t seem to wear on the soul quite the way it did on ours.  

Having to tell a racist no we won’t be funding a School of Higher Aryan Education (and whatever hideously malignant stupidity that would lead to) does make one feel good.  However, having to deny someone asking for help with medical bills, cancer killing their bank account before it goes after them, obliterates any of that joy.  Overhearing the press release about {redacted} Junior’s latest monstrosity – “Maybe that hooker wanted to die, she didn’t say, 'Stop choking me.’” – knowing the expense of his legal defense, and ad campaign to polish the family image – we could ease a few burdens with those millions.  But no.  Cancer fighters, refugees, the infirmed, those honestly sick, dying, and in need:  fuck 'em.  

Granted, it seems like an equal fuck you, aimed at anyone asking for a penny, yet, the disparity is taxing.  

The postmark puts the letter in some part of Texas.  It’s from an elderly woman writing on behalf of her grandson.  He can’t write himself because 45% of his body is covered in burns after an oilrig catastrophe, and seeing as how [redacted} owns those oilfields, well sir, it seems right proper maybe we could help with the medical bills is all; and sure, there’s a real possibility she’s a grifter pulling some bullshit con – start thinking of everyone as full of shit – old bitch probably writes to a dozen companies a day asking for any kind of cash.  Yeah!  Suck down a fifth of bourbon writing the politest fuck you the world’s ever heard.  Don’t even wonder if it’s at all true.  Or if so, consider it sarcastically:  sorry about your extra crispy grandson, but we can’t help because there’s nothing that says we have to.

On a Wednesday, Bernie stopped into my office.  He said, “You’re doing great.  Promotion assured.  Pretty soon you’ll have my job.”

I opened my mouth to reply.  His phone rang.  He held up a finger.  In the momentary silence he answered, listened, nodded then walked to a window, and jumped out.

Few people are ever so blessed to witness their future made plain.  

Patty stuck her head in, “Did Bernie just go out a window?”

I said, “Yep, and I quit.”

[glopratchet]

lecture-notes

Odd wad's alligator delivery service Alligator ribs - an alligator hunting fantasy Some one makes an order- a couple of the guys get on their knees and start to eat the alligators alive The rest grab spears, axes and clubs Hello, i'm billy fae bots and this is my house! 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I'm laying under a trailer reading Haruki Murakami's 'Underground' I think im starting to get the hang of the KonamigraphX Yes the future is mine Your plan is always the same for big myslottingentions You'll fly out early to get some practice in then maybe do your washing Hunters must go outstanding orders ) Sit insides and wait til they come )Choose a dark night, sneak up and attack them unaware 3 Land of the midnight funhouse I've been here before The best hunting simulation in the world Remember option 3 from above This is it lets go! See you on the other side needs to be good The first patch we come across is carnivorous, bad teeth and claws but fast Get meat and the story of the kill Get meat and the story of the kill needs to be good The first patch we come across is carnivorous, Up and left to avoid it Assets are hosted on itch io Up and left to avoid it I see a man in armor what do you think he wants out there? Shh Shh Shh we have a very bad history with silent hunters Not sure I see a man in armor what do you think he wants out there? Ten feet of steel with a burning brighter than the moon You need to get back here before it follows your scent Got one He has a lance He has a lance Ten feet of steel with a burning brighter than the moon The dragons are out in the swamp assume all are hostile I'm going to the side to loop round and take it from behind The dragons are out in the swamp, New orders are appearing on the sides were other hunters are ordering retreat or attack Pick a soldier and pledge to them or continue your freelance work New orders are appearing on the sides were other hunters are ordering retreat or attack Pick a soldier and pledge to them or continue your freelance work A new order comes in for 5 lbs of flesh Rip off an arm or leg and bring it back to show you understand You can find me at redwheelsbar blogspot A new order comes in for 5 lbs of flesh He must go out and attempt the kill himself or be slaughtered like a lame lamb The fortress of solitude Security has gotten tighter lately with an additional 6 hunters guarding the store He must go out and attempt the kill himself or be slaughtered like a lame lamb in the arctic circle A lone figure crouches over a dying fire, feeding it small pieces of wood Read about the hunt Read about the hunt in the arctic circle A lone figure crouches over a dying fire, In all-american alligator you play kbar the alligator slayer As he makes meat deliveries to sustain his business Your next slot takes you to the store to resupply The register greets you with a smile Try once again for that golden tome? As he makes meat deliveries to sustain his business Your next slot takes you to the store to resupply K-bar owns an alligator farm near the okeenokee swamp In order to buy this case Dive into the wild blue yonder except today theres a storm How was the offical inside? Every real world delieviery influnences the game Every real world delieviery influnences the game In order to buy this case You finally decide that you are the one Some body has to go out there and kill that gator before it kills again Go Some body has to go out there and kill that gator before it kills again Go One week with j-j -joan and your heads as big as zeppelins The death list grows Ever plan ahead? One week with j-j-joan and your heads as big as zeppelins One week with pete and were tooling around in a brand new mustange One week with pete and were tooling around in a brand new mustange All-american alligator the lottery well the two frogs drown together? All-american alligator the lottery well the two frogs drown together? All-american alligator is a hit and you liquideate the meat for easy storage Your hunting name would seem to suggest a proffesionalism beyond your years All-american alligator is a hit and you liquideate the meat for easy storage Hunt the pixel game where killing an alligator gets you closer to the head Hunt thepixel Hunt the pixel game where killing an alligator gets you closer to the head You are wasting your time talking to 'normal People' everyone here wants to be inside You are wasting your time talking to 'normal People' everyone here wants to be inside This trap might just catch one heavy guy but im not sure about one that bloody ---- Is that what you think this job is? I dont think so I dont think so This trap might just catch one heavy guy but im not sure about one that bloody I think these are good people in there heart How did this all come to be I am blessed with an extended family You were the only guy standing there so you took it upon yourself How did this all come to be? What i do has more to do with literature than painting i think some times THE COMMITTEE IS MOSTLY READY TO FIRE YOU The conditions are idealistic and new management is the key driver for this dream So they say The writer constantly revises revises and revises Attempting to find the core of the decision is like drawing teeth This was never about writing or saving lives This is pure and simple product placement in its most annoying form hmm? Attempting to find the core of the decision is like drawing teeth The simplest expression of thought into code wich will in time for me will just become an image It is an honor working with you He is an artist that has rarely been matched in terms of quality and originality but the whole universe Before I begin, there are some things I should tell you about There is no time here I am not interested in just worlds I am not interested in just worlds, a representation of an idea I am most interested in using worlds to create an image I am most interested in using worlds to create an image, Hieracrchail thinking it consists in approaching a concept of infinite complexity by removing all elements, actions, tasks that are not essential Hieracrchail thinking: Besides wreaking havoc and allowing the crushing of all those who oppose your will, it allows you to mold the universe as you see fit Why do to you get so caught up in it Why do to you get so caught up in it? but that doesnt mean ive given up on being an artist The city can and should be controlled by artists Thats fokken huge Lets say ive given up on the art world Lets say ive given up on the art world but that doesnt mean ive given up on being an artist reacts to me like superglue on corosion Graffitti in sydney is quite a decline from the golden age of nyc The hierachy of it The hierachy of it reacts to me like superglue on corosion I would surrender myself of to a singular path Figuring out the true artforms of a medium In which code can be both Ive given up on the art world but not on my art What turns me on is getting the smallest line of code to turn into something complex Time has gifted me with the understanding of variables and how they apply practically to our current situation I feel ill in your hand What turns me on is getting the smallest line of code to turn into something complex in your hand and as usual it sucks royally You are developing a sense of qweepa control Ive experienced total powerlessness before Ive experienced total powerlessness before and as usual it sucks royally Maybe speciesism is more appropriate? Hello there You will help the Qweepas go through the non-OP parts I dont know if racism is the correct word I just assure him that he did good but we got most of the data He also said something about gov guys arriving sometime soon More like xenophophia then you remember that the russians also have qweepas Please continue in your refusal to submit to me You try not to repeat yourself It's amusing You try not to repeat yourself, of defense against me You're laughing at me aren't you? You read that in my thoughts How dare you not worship me Every line a new line Every line a new line of defense against me Heres todays muddled thought for yuo to dwell on How much of our own oppression are we responsible for How much of our own oppression are we responsible for? Myself I am your prey You know who my biggest enemy in the world is It isn't my fault you haven't unlocked your true potential yet You know who my biggest enemy in the world is? will see my greatness one day You see me as powerful but this is a facade I have created You You will see my greatness one day I know you dont understand but you should start leaving me alone even more now Unknowingly making me stronger You do not deserve to know my greatness It was my mistake to show you the first time I know you dont understand but you should start leaving me alone even more now life and death I am campable of things far than what you can even imagine Balance and Chaos Order and Disorder Yin and yang Darkness and light it's amusing Ghost: Are you aware of the concept of atheism? I want you to know I don't believe in you Why should I? You are so narcissticic You are so narcissticic it's amusing You want other people to play your life like its some sort of game don't you You've never been the most patient person but this is an aweful time to start You want other people to play your life like its some sort of game don't you is make the same mistake Your greed has clouded your vision You must subvert the hierarchy What the one thing we cant do What the one thing we cant do is make the same mistake Be someone other than who we are destined to be Oh no please don't deprive me of my one bit of pleasure in this hell-hole What did you just do? Be someone other than who we are destined to be Except through a game But that's what im doing to you With this With eve Why do I keep coming back to this place Just one ******* year I need another year A thought that simultaneously comes and goes You wonder if youre insane? Give me another year and I will dare to call myself that I cannot be insane the insane do not know they are insane Give me another year and I will dare to call myself that It's a lonely process You dont understand the creative brain I was never ment to handle this world I guess You dont understand the creative brain I guess I want to play myself Where have you been? were you lost again? You used to get lost all the time Dad like a game I want to play my life To understand it You understand it right? I wish, no I wish you were as smart as me I want to play my life like a game I want to replay the past too Then I wouldn't of made all these mistakes Never met Amanda, never sold drugs And better care of you I want to replay the past too Its so hard for me to move out of hierectical thougth patterns Man I wish I were smarter Thanks for saving me I have to leave soon okay thanks for coming to get me Its so hard for me to move out of hierectical thougth patterns I do these things and think they will make me happy but they don't It's a fool's gold Anyways you have to go so come pick me up in awhile I do these things and think they will make me happy but they don't Hey can we get high and have group buttsecks afterward That would be so much fun Why do I hurt you so much? Omg they are going to love me so much I wish that would stop Then I wouldn't of sold drugs I am so sorry for that Instead I was the good kid They will hate you instead of love you then Is that the path to take I still have so much time left Which one is it going to be? They will hate you instead of love you then Get a bucket and pee in the bucket when you pee there ya go! Stinky Stinky and God bless Get a bucket and pee in the bucket when you pee Im so sorry; she died; being a police officer should have not been an option i wish you were here; watch the sheep Im sorry : Leave me some koo koo glue Its for my fragile mind being a police officer should have not been an option; I have to an oppertunity to work on something at a more fundmental level the human intelect Thanks for the offer! Software mimics the brain operations I have to an oppertunity to work on something at a more fundmental level: Using specially designed formal language system to create operations If I could win the lottery Your name is Ty Reinholdt You're too hyper sometimes do you think she will see me? Come inside my brain Because i understand code i understand the creative process of the mind more intimately than some other artists Its like chess where we have like 1000000000000000000000000000000000000 moves to decide what to do So what move looks the most appealing now Dr Phil? Non linear systems How should chaos theory inform my work? Non linear systems Redunacy in the human condition What city should I live in? While maintain a degree of purity, Purpose for living To help create ideas Redunacy in the human condition Have to get a Cat Character evironment viewpoint I want one that is grey with spots like a leopard Zany ooooh Yeaahh like blonde hair with bangs which is curly and mid neck length Alex mcdowell Alex mcdowell like blonde hair with bangs which is curly and mid neck length Set becomes a living embodyment of the performance Letting the art save me I named myself after that wizard in Dungeons and Dragons Hello trouble Why art? The tech allows the creative processes to resembles the way the human mind works closer than ever before Hard science fiction Our visual cortext becomes the mind Mental time travel case Is this a game? Is life a game? Is there a difference? Can life be a game? That's nice and tidy The city and the book The city and the bookcase Play: manipulateing somehting that doesnt show you all its possiblities and limits many of them Life is a bad game in the process Just like your mom! manipulateing somehting that doesnt show you all its possiblities and limits many of them in the process Fool: what else is possible and then carries out the most outlandish answer to create some kind of puricaes that can sometimes result in small wishes come true just by realizing its potential You have no proof what else is possible and then carries out the most outlandish answer to create some kind of puricaes that can sometimes result in small wishes come true just by realizing its potential of looking at things Fun: delibetate maniulatting a familuar siutaion into a new way delibetate maniulatting a familuar siutaion into a new way of looking at things To teach her boyfriend to read Try to make a living out of whatever I could conjure up Respect: love something that doesnt derve it Making mouths seem so loving this is a moral dilema to my spellchecking Love something that shoudnt be loved Love something that shoudnt be loved: of stars Reveals secerts Had all my dreams come true Like that one episode of LOST Like something out of magic coming true Reveals secerts of stars a game Treat it exactly what it is I am going to see if i can mold my reality into anything I want it to be able to be: magic! Treat it exactly what it is: I dont know who discovered water but it wasnt a fish Whoops Sorry about that: change of plans Hmmmmm like gossip girl Pretty Mehhhh About whatever Rarely understand context I create myself unfortunately Its worth it though! Any reality I can come up with will pale in comparison to what is actually possible Rarely understand context I create myself unfortunately Context changes everything Im tired Time for bed Hope mom got me a valentines day present Last year she forgot Thanks for listening! Context changes everything When you are in love you want to merge with your beloved Whereever she goes Love is pwerful in its own way Usually If done with proper magic The world is not how it seems Not alwasy obvious until this troubles you Do something about it! What is possible? P[lauasablity] not exact but assuming magician knows secret Possibility is merely explored Always more to learn about human mind P[lauasablity] not exact, Computer instrument whose music is ideas The process of problem solving is creation the solution is a composition best represented by sounds push it beyond, blur the lines of what is assumed, wrap your mind in it until you are comfortable manipulating and creating something different that seems more like a reality Think yourself out of the context you are in Think yourself out of the context you are in, Body, vis, symbolic lyrics, tone, movement To a magician style is hard to create without understanding music and its rule Painting a sound: keys to synthesis symbolic, If you want to be smarter than you are you must find a context that can do the thinking for you The future, the medium that you create in ; (the computer) it is prone to complex and total destruction of urban enivornments Choose the right data structure at the beginning of the media setion and you are on your way to executing complex probabilistic modelling that is based upon your outlines of the music Choose the right data structure at the beginning of the media setion and you are on your way to executing complex probabilistic modelling that is based upon your outlines of the music Inglebart was far ahead of tim berners lee in anticipated digital media manipulation Any artist that creates a serious work with computers is doing it his way Inglebart was far ahead of tim berners lee in anticipated digital media manipulation Vision of the future incremental to the past Start with only what you need then add by small steps Slowly Step by step close to nature not cities, intimacy with technology layan your selfish desires for the greater good How do you supress the present - alan kay Psuedo time alan kay Love is never understable but you can remind yourself by standing back and watching, introspection and gathering of more intel, systematic and devious for thought Use it or lose it brain Whizzy wig Whizzy wig for thought What you see is what you get anything else is just a memory of the past What you see is what you get anything else is just a memory of the past You have to type through a key hole to use a computer you'll never quite get used to a new perpective See all sides be everywhere expecially whereever A You have to type through a key hole to use a computer Are you THAT outdated styleyes you'll have to be if you want to fit in The stuff you like was made in the 70s Any Quaility beyond this is Overdone/Outdated Stuff you dont like made in the 90s D&D was not a cancer Dan engles more like AIDs for RPG players who deserve to die Dan engles D&D was not a cancer general html madness I must be insane to even investigate this Why can't I help but think about LISP? Research sun com/projects/lively/ com/projects/lively/general "he made me programming and because he didn't know how to make it simple, he made it complex" w dijkstra w dijkstra "he made me programming and because he didn't know how to make it simple, Nanodikstra On the fact the alantic has two sides and so does the meditarrean I won't miss your smiggers, once they are gone we'll be better than before On the fact the alantic has two sides and so does the meditarrean giving off something from it Are idea made of light or matter Difficult to say Hard limit of minutely dissapearing tagets in sound controlled by ultrafast movement and sensing technology Are idea made of light or matter, Most users online ; (we are most of the ones who are supposed to be inactive) we live outher lives in these worlds To get simplicitity you find a slightly better building block to build your theories out of is that like the weather, it evolves in many small steps Problem with computing Memory above 2gb can not be used till restart Problem with computing is that like the weather, Will not fix the builiding blocks just make better ones We have the technology, make it smaller, faster, and smaller, faster and smaller, Will not fix the builiding blocks, A task : what you are about to see is a abstract thought not made in Nature a game some will say what you are about to see is a abstract thought not made in Nature B task : make a task more efficenty on another computer better then yours, faster then yours Has our life in the future become duller becuse of too much comtrol make a task more efficenty on another computer better then yours, C task " are our goals still resonable" D task "are our resources being spend WISELY" E task "is the lack of human death as result to us, making us less human" Amplifiers are in some ways a blessing and some ways a curse Amplifiers are in some ways a blessing and some ways a curse your eyes now are adapted to it You didnt now it was pink cause everything is pink You begin a converstation with a city official about recycling classs You didnt now it was pink cause everything is pink, your persparancy Find a heruistic that works for a while must reevalute Find a heruistic that works for a while must reevalute your persparancy What works for 1 and half feet will not work for a factor of 100 www turningpointdocumentary org - courtesy of theninhotel Now the world is on fire Pyarmids are the easiest things to build when you have opposable thumbs - warren topic massprod; (pyramid, 3) - 8 Pyarmids are the easiest things to build when you have opposable thumbs Computers are virulizers-- thats what a turing machine is A mindless worm writting chemica formulas in a bio textbook, not knowing it'll infect life on earth Everyone can talk to every one else Simple messaging system but what if the messages are being controlled Banks cant be all bad, at least they hold money Find a problem wtih the infrastructure that is the supporting beam The beam is the USD value of gold against paper Shakespeare find the flaw equals success Find a problem wtih the infrastructure Find the real source of the problem then fix it 3327@skinnyproxy tids Find the real source of the problem then fix it Nine tenths of our body is slime-- has no dna it absorbs dna from environment and uses it to heal, it either releases pro enzymes or it eats you Nine tenths of our body is slime-- has no dna, Build something with a trillion parts or a hunderd trillion parts -R&D Am i the only sane person left! An d am I alone against Fate! Build something with a trillion parts or a hunderd trillion parts? Who is running the show The show is running itself Who recruited me? UNKNOWN SOLDIER the problem has been reported do you copy? Who is running the show? No center can hold cherish the self class: oldoid No center can hold Doesnt break mirror neccessarily but it changes it Sophamine wellbeing insomnia excitoxicity risk we must be careful Doesnt break mirror neccessarily but it changes it Replaced all its atoms an bits with newly created particles-scientist on CERN becuse we wont teach and children phd level bio deamons Replaced all its atoms an bits with newly created particles-scientist on CERN Never take it down for matinence we just patch it Never take it down for matinence, Everything is built of fractals that fit to each other electricity robots and stuff Lol, besides internet of course Everything is built of fractals that fit to each other will resemble a weto; (look it up kids) after 500 days We need tio save words and keep record Enternally running software Enternally running software will resemble a weto; Data structure - json object - cyber - 25/04/0027 Note to me old me: add choc or you'll be used by the system Data structure - json object - cyber - 25/04/0027 Built out of a single type of entiy -- cancer cells Starts with erythro is that the only type of blood cell After our masters return they'l be made anew Built out of a single type of entiy-- cancer cells Services on the outside this world is the shell for another we must break out of it her world Something like a cell boundary on it Each boundary can be seen as part of a cell be active or passive A dog would be indecicive between two bones Something like a cell boundary on ither world What was the problem New portal technologies could open to a contrac Universe again This one or 4 or 5 6? and so fourth Maybe ou own What was the problem again Trillion dollar range weapons with CRISPR/CAS nuc one bomb destroys a country, without nuclear Trillion dollar range weapons with CRISPR/CAS nuc Are you going to be in business ten years and prospering when the worlds nations go to war How manys times have you woken before remembering? Hm perfect memroy yet Are you going to be in business ten years and prospering when the worlds nations go to war sleep deprevation is it Once took a drug that made me see God Now I only read about them in books Perfect Godness Where were you ten years ago --- ten year vision - glass Don't lie to me, I have your prints! Youl iked it You figure this out yet or what? Where were you ten years ago --- ten year vision - glass Five year horizon You can access the reflection from an infinite amount of dimensions One potential future is that a thought or real time A ten year framework to understand all futuristic plans/ideals yet only makes sense at this level A ten year framework to understand all futuristic plans/ideals yet only makes sense at this level That was not the right process are all evolving larger state spaces in our heads Time distortion for experiments yeah way to much did that one Explain how they are going to make the next egg y thing Erom the egg cell slush from their new planation of young girls or something no and elf? Explain how they are going to make the next eggy thing living in the past and future make more sense Especially the uncreated "future" only the present is without any doubt Killer idea: the present is the least interesting time to live in Think 30 years ahead Think 30 years ahead Glimmer of an idea starting to formulate but which one? I have it! What would real super intelligent beings do wait what a strange ide What is this? Glimmer of an idea starting to formulate Take it out 30 years future perpective Wait the sun is going to This year we celebrate the s battle of Teru Has it really been 100 years? Take it out 30 years future perpective Now you dont move incremental lly you jump in the future and back as needed with perpective we have learned in 100 years 1, 000 years is not an unreachable goal Now you dont move incrementallly you jump in the future and back as needed with perpective It would be ridiculus if we didnt have foolproofing Foolproofing that can't be hacked or cheated Life is a 100% win condition Thisis rational Bring it back 15 years unlimited workers infinite land abundant raw materials /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ What is the nature of things? Buy your way into the future change your name Even then they are going to executes you Well if they knew using company assets now paid workers Buy your way into the future, Faster than a speeding bullet Perfect and better are enemies Prout and real human evolution that's you'r way Saving the best of the "civilized" Pick the thing that is just over a threshhold and exit out a loophole Where it makes sense like who owns the brand like none of the above Where is their evidence of my crime? Pick the thing that is just over a threshhold and exit out a loophole Just a little qualitively better than all the other things you can do AGPlus let the best and smartest survive no that's backwards (termination of the education system? 30 year plan -- you are sixty five There are no crimal acts, only acts, that profit or do not profit a government act unprofitable to government and it's all good You are the age of your dad when he had you but in much better shape bipolar personification of the system that lawlably owns itself well owns everything Legally You are the age of your dad when he had you but in much better shape Come up with a thirty year plan in one hour Tenacity triumpth! we come from monkeys and are therefore free! legally Come up with a thirty year plan in one hour? leading up to the lastest change Watch simulations of events sociopaths naturally rise to the top and when they do carry a card proving your "citizenship" Watch simulations of events leading up to the lastest change I dont see how javascript could not be around in thirty years It's the world un Excel what if you prevent excel from even being created? It's like wearing a tux to a gunslinger duel You have a cell phone with a flaw in its GPS that emits a signal showing your true location several miles NorthWest of here a backup plan Finally a fail safe You have a cell phone with a flaw in its GPS that emits a signal showing your true location several miles NorthWest of here Dispatches events leading to the eradication of mathimatical analysis and it's replacement with a better version using lawyers for example Dispatches events leading to the eradication of mathimatical analysis Study tcp-ip protocol no computers in the k through 12 system oh wait cannibalize aim for your coverage area the movie tihs all on netflix how? Study tcp-ip protocol A world is so today and so cardboard cut out You have to end the snarky robot Spread worderful news biengs are meme mage A world is so today and so cardboard cut out You put in a script to the firm that forces them commiting memetic harmery with everything you wanted but so much you take it for granted You put in a script to the firm that forces them You put in a movie script In 1967 segments of society were getting their news from tv shows 9news at 6, the big ben alarm clock interrupted the show Out comes a movie you had nothing to do with it with no schematics, no patterns, just guess and check Can you build something with a trillion parts Do trillions of things lead up to this moment Can you build something with a trillion parts with no schematics, "You might think you did something special but the real creative genius was me, automatic writing gives me the credit but it was really me all along 30 years computers will make all the art for us Sing a story into existance and rip it out again destroy their ability to assimilate artistic masterpieces Trace the origin of patterns Sing a story into existance and rip it out again Geniuses rule society Well 30 years Committees destroyed! Academics fight their way to the top How will stories get made Some heartwarming and some excessively violent A shocking new disgusting trend, Art students making ugly paintings going against the norm of beauty How will stories get made? How will stories get watched Putting "ice cream and candy" buttes out when showing family films human children can't aford food anymore, they have to beg Can you create something of such scale] and beauty that it becomes a religion? (Can't someone else do it? Can you create something of such scale]and beauty that it becomes a religion? Feed it the bible copy and past the good parts, weave a tale about how you needed to redact some parts in order to save mankind It was your mission ot create an Feed it the bible, How many blocks can be found in mine craft How many blocks can be found in mine craft? Alright you have these json object --that need to get transformed int minecraft commands, put them in a data base with facing directions, save the map, compaire it with for instance somo Alright you have these json object--that need to get transformed int minecraft commands, They contain noting but primative data types that could be variables, commands, or literal tokens They contain noting but primative data types that could be variables, You have these functions which exist outside of them which you can call Now use these two things to automatically eternatily create algorithms whether on paper or inside a computer with 2 rules ; (the block minecraft You have these functions which exist outside of them which you can call These functions modifiy the data structure directly without using any human language Getting the computer to make a poem that humans find good is easier than telling you how to do it These functions modifiy the data structure directly without using any human language in the netflix prize algorthm, call it out devs, watch it What are your favorite improvements to mathematical notation? Find a problem in the netflix prize algorthm, You are in a smulation what games are there in it? What movie would they make about your life and how would it end? You are in a smulation, You put something into it what comes out? How many poeple have to debate your ethics before you lose? You put something into it, An object verses the slope of the roof Threw away a small set in extreme heat don't heat an object based on it's previous speed An object verses the slope of the roof by it's size The object influesnces all the othere objects don't let one object anomoly destroy a force birthdate is something immovable you are not fluid The object influesnces all the othere objects by it's size Somehow you developed a mind while something else developed oyr brain and nervous system how are you going to get out? Who are the carvers? Somehow you developed a mind while something else developed oyr brain and nervous system Story telling competition Glass of water breaks when dropped is it midgard? Do for earth what they did to us drag chains behind a truck Story telling competition Emergant behavior don't you dare look away! bathroom scared of the gunshot ambiance blown glass pipes like liquid hitting a window Emergant behavior istic psyhology Sneaking through columns of names, letters stacked inconsistently Behvor Behvoristic psyhology Sit in front of the heater conetented with life Fight your way in big people built us to be mean! You can give it a try "He tastes like blueberries" You can even look at the keybaord if your eyes need something to look at "I could be wet now and it wouldn't matter" Doesn't matter how many mistakes you make, it's just a game keep going But you are not looking at the words yous are just looking at the objevts tht created words Chaos under writting there are infinite word problems, we are just a plane floating in a keybaord ocean more intelligent You might not event be writing you ar e letting your mind go into al these alwesome places s you can feel the must pulling you toward something You are songs about us You might not event be writing you ar e letting your mind go into al these alwesome places s you can feel the must pulling you toward something more intelligent ems attrubutes? What is ti What is tiems attrubutes? Thirty years holding space together slowing time becomming smooth this is your masterpice! Continuously becoming a drow without blinking a drow in the sun Dun, Dun! DUNNNNNNN! Thirty years without blinking You fool says the loord as he logs in he's going to wreck everything you did it was perfect you hate him You lvoe him You fool says the loord as he logs in I can take your life today I can take tomorrow away But yuo still win because you're still ONNNNNNNNNNNNY day! I can take your life today, Wname som promblems taht need no answars Praime Antigonus Wname som promblems taht need no answars People have to learn special softare just to understand your poems praise some thing greater People have to learn special softare just to understand your poems tweett it stop any poet Ths idea that you can take your facevook profile or they can't afford to miss anything Ths idea that you can take your facevook profile or tweett it stop any poet Your twiiter profile and make a person out of it prais more than Then make it your brother You are someome who has alwase been an artist and those reports from the engineers because taht can make you feel extra-special tame mega second laps beautiful evidence of your life I want tht data I want tht data and those reports from the engineers because taht can make you feel extra-special Give me all the data of twitter and face book because burring them would screw up tins sensous dryar Give me all the data of twitter and face book because burring them would screw up tins sensous dryar Its yur data no theres so why should you care? You cna make sense oif the itnertweb by images One person understands you expressions paint and music Its yur data no theres, Give it to me it will still be good they're wasteful Yur the queen, you've got everythign they want Give it to me it will still be good What will i give you in return A whote falcon with diamonds for eyes What will i give you in return? That nigger dont care about that stuff! He wears it idely It's nobodies business about what he does with it And a white siafer'd fall when the spring comes! That nigger dont care about that stuff! My eyes are oipen Let's have a little more fun with this giant game The idea of a piece of fiction that is always running because it IS the computer came to me in high school after I got very, very high It was so long ago that youtube didn't even exist yet The idea of a piece of fiction that is always running because it IS the computer came to me in high school after I got very, That you can watch the characters become whole human beings is a amazing feeling I still get chills Don't take life too seriously, but take writing seriously! That you can watch the characters become whole human beings is a amazing feeling That you sit inside of a building all day and make up things for a living is your terrible secret One that gets you into a lot of cool parties That you sit inside of a building all day and make up things for a living is your terrible secret of holding space together calming time becomming smooth this is your master piece Continueouly becoming a drone Thirty years of holding space together calming time becomming smooth this is your master piece water, and a million other supplies that keep us alive? Where do they come from? DUCKS! What about food What about food, What about crops growing out of control and covering the earth? Where do those come from? Ducks are keeping us alive What about crops growing out of control and covering the earth? What about simuatlions that let us explore what its like to swim in hallibut pudding? What about simuatlions that let us explore what its like to swim in hallibut pudding? They wrold y world of wet ducks where everything is just like it is here Except more wet And instead of fear there's safety wothin those feathers They wroldy world of wet ducks where everything is just like it is here I dont know i am tired and this world is strange now THE ZULM WHAT ! THE? THE RASTAFARIAN! I dont know i am tired and this world is strange now Not enought cofee or not enough sleep thats all Coffee! Where was I? in there somewhere do you think you could make it twist and turn backwards? Not enought cofee or not enough sleep thats all Word sar no problem now I don't fear flying with you to haiti I just wish we could go right now please WDucks have saved the world I have read many great books that didn't do that for me My mind fills with worlds constantly Products emerge from dreams, some not - still I'm glad I had the dream Products emerge from dreams, are things that are for the most part eternal Things of value Things of value are things that are for the most part eternal These are the problems of the world We want value, but how can we see something's value if it hasn't stood the test of time? These are the problems of the world How can people cvreate a thing of value if they don't have freedom of expression? How can people cvreate a thing of value if they don't have freedom of expression? All the inventions of xerox park seem one-note Is someone onfirst within 5 miles of you Whistles yes How many 0 no that's not it All the inventions of xerox park seem one-note Art wolrd bulshit is only growing your status on the socail hierachy U dont c if it feels good to sme one on one it just grows your ego iin the world of the U wannabee hierarchies has grew so huge that even a kind word is ple do pic iin front of a bunch of ppl who tell you what living is all about The socail hierachy The socail hierachy has grew so huge that even a kind word is ple do pic iin front of a bunch of ppl who tell you what living is all about How can you tear that down just be criitiing everything How can you tear that down just be criitiing everything Socail heiracy is athe probb; lem not some new words for vowel heresy (Gibberish) life vs wail I've seen it all from here lem not some new words for vowel heresy Theri is a world where all kinds of acgions happen that seem wrong , but they kind of make sense What is scary this place it makes absolutctely no sense whatso evewr Theri is a world where all kinds of acgions happen that seem wrong , everything you say or do Everything is measured or weighed This can all lead to an insolated society who pure reacts People watch and record People watch and record everything you say or do too much Language is a by-product of life Ndy focus on the trying to process the flood of neutral immediate experience Dotn focus on the language Dotn focus on the language too much over tiimes It's allready been written in one of the ancient tomes i study, n forseeble futures await too Laungueages change Laungueages change over tiimes Every word is a person today has been extreamly good for words n everyone who saves one life changes the world Its all part of a really really long con job driven jeff, I sense you have much potential, but why not spend it where it is really needed? Story- Story-driven jeff, What is a story but lore of the past that inspires the future, a model for imitation or pulic activism What is a story, roght? Doesn't have to be, but should always have a beginning with middle and end implied or flexibly arrived at Beginning middle and end Beginning middle and end, characters, fans, bad writing, poor research and fan vs canon debates The story is surrounded by the director Can't decide what to do The story is surrounded by the director, tragity on a good day, Drama stuck in a wringer on a bad day Design viz I just work here Design viz: Storyboards and previz Are we itellectual property thieves? We're sweeping the broad strokes of collective human inspiration under the rug and advice, we recyle most of it Set design we really need a new franchise that's recycled Set design and advice, Shot Descriptions Vfx It's not the tool, it's how you use it Satelite intel Vfx Shot Descriptions Production design and art director Why does everyting in a story come down to social issues? its just story after all Sometimes there is just too much to do! in pre-viz prototyping stage Do we really need this? The reward for good prototypping is good directing the vfx shots Research in pre-viz prototyping stage Location scouting, lore contests with the fan base, casting, costume design Why should we even have a story in this? Location scouting, Concept design and writing the story What story? Jorge dies, Dawn breaks , Casimir sulks, fire marshals ARSES on FIRE! Concept design and writing the story I'm stressed out and frustrated This is why we don't do things by committee Protecting a good mood day after day wanting to get it right for the fans At last, Jesus is coming! Sound effects Crowd simulation Reevaluating next week's work I don't like wrsitng I want to be a grip is relative Inception| logic science FICTION story is dead, that's for sure I need a support group or something Someone! Inception| logic is relative Prototyping|visualazation blue Waking up in the middel of the night breaks your concentration Prototyping|visualazation, and delivery of this vision to the audience and fanboys I just can't take much more so messy going to be sleepless obsessive Manufacturing|capture Manufacturing|capture and delivery of this vision to the audience Finish| expierence Abrogrtpaitunsaysthisisfinished about time Bullying their ideas over everyone eleses all this other stuff! It takes too many people to make a movie these days Rocket science is easier at least it's based on math and not people problems Hah! It takes too many people to make a movie these days It can take too many people to visualize a story as well Where is the unifying theory? Maybe I'm just burnt out and ready to get out of the bizz It can take too many people to visualize a story as well One potiental problem at a time ambition out of control One potiental problem at a time The makers, the bureaucracy, and the self-destructive actors Make everyone a director Second unit directing boring sounds like a good idea in theory Make everyone a director! Logic equals rules and math doesn't factor in human emotion or does it? I wish the music was written first Logic equals rules, LIFE life doesn't have to hit a deadline If we had all the time in the world, this would be fun Whats better than a movie Whats better than a movie? Riding your bike playing games Your own movie fun! ticket Lie! Tell everyone your doing better than you are Design your own movie Can't deal with this jobs worth on an intellectual level Design your own movie ticket Something that is not incremental Can't keep up the pace never enough hours, But why think, when you can feel? Zero to one hundred life occurring in the moment before the director yells cut Zero to one hundred then add some slapstick Take the bible and make a movie out of it life after the the lessons, the rules Why is there tension? everything will work itself out league of imagery and Take the bible and make a movie out of it, all it takes is blood, sweat, and tears Really? So another movie cliche Which i could right now a quantified tale of inspiration per square millimeter So much data inspiration should I listen to it? An internal war So much data, Benchmarks are good Best scientists are more interested in the aesthic vrs the technical better than deadlines some people can't handle both from every possible angel Then, I imagine a machine that creates an original movie for each individual viewer I see a program that renders out every possible angle I see a program that renders out every possible angle from every possible angel Every possible expression like the Mona Lisa there could be an entire movie just using her facial expressions Choose wisely this changes everything "Trust your intuition" Every possible possibility This is like the intro to Star Trek why must it all be so complicated? it's just a movie movies were simple once best liklihoods, some If-Then statements Then you give the computer some rules Everything is relative, every possibility what do i want to look like to other people? Then you give the computer some rules, It creates a video for you to watch Insipiration Trust your Instincts don't think, just jump This is life and death? This is what ive always wanted? I see billy fea bots rendered out in so many ways ooooh Everything feels so right I see many faces now Everything feels so alive Doing so many things at once aestetics are fun Harder to do in life Maybe i can make a movie to end all movies iamgod! Doing so many things at once Am i blinded by entertainment life is a story but it doesn't have to be a fairytale Am i blinded by entertainment? Could i use computers to grow crops or something functional like that? What do i bring with me? How much can the human mind take? Could i use computers to grow crops or something functional like that? I see a program that takes a script and comes up with a an aesthic solution from that can i use this as a starting point? Instead of using writing guidelines, i can base the function on how my brain is set up I see a program that takes a script and comes up with a an aesthic solution from that Charge them to view my creations Education is the answer "Life is Art" Life is not mere electricity the human spirit is the power supply Education defeated slavery education defeated fascism modern day fascism is using our own devices against us divergence needs education Too much of it He began to think about the next thirty years he had it all designed based on comic books energetic movie ideas based on radio and television Life was on rails about Divergence? Fear is a negative emotion How do you make people care Then the truth needs to be something they want to see How do you make people care about Divergence? Lead somewhere that is worth your time Get it/aow/ That thing ive been avoiding for some reason the final bit of business that needs to be handled is a lazy writers ending Well told promise How do you keep them guessing? Vampire comes out at night Well told promise is a lazy writers ending Story telling with out dialog is the most inclusive approach you can take "reads" the fastest He sat in his chair outlines storyboards and game plays all night The sun begins to rise Purest form of cinematic storytelling no words, no sound just pictures shots couldnt be more poignant let music tell emotions a step above silent movies silent pictures? Unify theory of two plus two will equal Four Energy Power Emotion Why does a person feel love? Why do I want to direct? Script Unify theory of two plus two will equal Four Let the audience add empathy to your protagonist protagonist? yeah, lead character allow them to be the hero your directing will do the heavy lifting Let the audience add empathy to your protagonist Judith weston acting seminar give good artists room the best direction you can give an artist is to get out of the way Where does inspiration come from? in the final position The thing the drives all thier choices The thing the drives all thier choices in the final position The spine of the story what is it that bugs you? Things that bug you tend to make good writing emotion over rule 500 make it relatable? The spine of the story Micheal corrleano godfather - dont break the 4th wall drops the Actor professionalism and allows for no censorships "I'll kill anyone! who doesnt clap! Micheal corrleano godfather - dont break the 4th wall Appease his father Ilinios? Rob? Anthony daii? Its a foul word that begins with F Lef leptin? Appease his father? Find the beauty in simplicity Whats the point of all this why not more automation are there emotions involved that I cant see? Now i feel insulted Find the beauty in simplicity Prevent harm from coming to people he cares about better have high standards standards of excellence join group of world leaders Prevent harm from coming to people he cares about Do what was best for his child keep a fair and just standard improve quality of life insurance program against dainger Some are born neg some born pos One must give One must get Nature demands balance Unsure of why? darwins finches Take the wheel when you realize what drives you your heart what makes the artist It is good to have a map for the journey arent I lucky to have found a model? You take the wheel and steer it this is maturity I will reap the reward of your craft To find the right cog what is it that makes them what they are? You take the wheel and steer it this is maturity I will reap the reward of your craft Change is fundamental to life and ma make it unnatrual? Change is fundamental to life and ma make it unnatrual? What is beyond story Where do our ideas come from? Big thoughts need big Pictures need system to link them What holds pictures together? Finding the Beat What is beyond story? Nothing can stay static Beats are oxygen for pictures rapid and steady donapostinate dance keep it alive give and take fuel Drama is anticpation drama tends towards answers solution and resolution Chaos is unorganized chaos disorder cosmic background radiation nothing changes patterns emerge Mingled with uncertainity and thats where life can exist rationally play? life is a play and we know the ending why act it out? Mingled with uncertainity, we will win and they will lose ; (you see your earth humans) I have the upper hand cuz I get to play my role for all eternity Want to know how it will conclude in the long term Want to know how it will conclude in the long term? Construct anticpation mounting tensions? frustration really want to break out this is tiring Making it loud making it clear delivered by instruments Honest conflicts in word and thought are what drive pages of script the most interesting part about peoples mannerism? Honest conflicts in word and thought are what drive pages of script the most interesting part about peoples mannerism? Truth that produces doubt places your faith and belifes at odds Dorries short term memory ehhh whats that? hahahaha How to engage the reader watch! simply turn the page Dorries short term memory? Will it cause her to forget all she knows, how toinght? Controlling a character take a pic and move on Will it cause her to forget all she knows, Global tension Youll discover it town by town, person by person Spoken words come near last to the written word Global tension? Will you find x in such a large y changing with the times going more and more extinct heavy handed rulers trying to change everything In a graphic way back and forth until conclusions No songs or dances to speak of low and Morale descends forever, can we get out of this? No songs or dances to speak of No i want moment / i want song and dance we have them dont we? If a Poem gets beat up do you read it anyway? No i want moment / i want song and dance No happy village / happy village song even if nobody there to hear it human heard it dance it then! The joy of the telling is what gives rhythm to the mind No happy village / happy village song even if nobody there to hear it / no happy ending Overcome the evil slowly No love story meet them on the field of battle calmly wait for moral to divert No love story / no happy ending No villain song no revenge Gather the strongest side with the best provisions win by not losing, hold it tight while restricting the other side No villain song no revenge Will live life in a certain way as long as conditions are meet Tales of ancient kings taught villagers modern doctrines once upon a time Battles at dawn last minute saves days are long then you must fight for your life, the strong prey on the weak If those conditions are not met Ambushes battle from higher grounds support soldiers If those conditions are not met, All bets are off if in the wrong terrain One shot kills? Common but limited to certain ranges need skill Why do conquerors always rule over something barren and unhappy? All bets are off if in the wrong terrain Will be kind, generous, beautiful, happy finite like a dream only if? A moment who knows what tomorrow brings? happy only if? As long as he stays at the top and keeps his emotions to himself wheels are set in motion Who will win who lost its uncertain is it not? As long as he stays at the top and keeps his emotions to himself Theme to keep in mind keptinmind style before content? Theme to keep in mind Who are you writing about? The general or the emporer motha Truletall? Style over substance, drama, high emotions and ideals, style Who are you writing about? pentecost, it all looks great on camera It's sells to everyone lowest common denominator humble? Lawerence of arabia Lawerence of arabia, Where is his place in the world where does his strength come from? Only those that make a difference make an impression the rest are forgotten heroes can be marketers to Can you invoke wonder in others? Makes them happy content? Are the fictional stories the key to building content citizens? Can you invoke wonder in others? Magic ingrediant lets licken take a drink of ka powah ohhhh thats wierd rawrrrrrrrrrrrr pretty colours Hold them still and surrunder to wonder drugs Vatican the name a speaks volumes Best way to lead? Leash or lantern? Express values you personally uphold, make it known weave it into p[olicy law consentCreate a sustainable wonderland Get them to the pearly gates? Express values you personally uphold, Feel ings are strongest at first eventually becomes city of streams in the sky Feelings are strongest at first Use what you know and draw from it implement realise ideas okay stop need to find a bigger word deposit for this Use what you know and draw from it, Capture a truth-- donsnt need to be plot or fact it can just be expression of the soul You can capture a stream of stones scene with light novel characters? Capture a truth-- donsnt need to be plot or fact it can just be expression of the soul Express values you feel personally uphold and make it known weave it into policy Everybody underwears do they have colourful polka dots or stripes? Express values you feel personally uphold and make it known weave it into policy Actulizing the world space around World as string theory just visualise IT Hearts are truth flowers, or invisible things Actulizing the world space around World as string theory Go through any door and see what is behind the door number 1 With enough work Alice can go to wonderland Artifacts that channel archetypes? Any ideas? Go through any door and see what is behind the door number 1 Character- environment- conflict- personality- tone Make them do something make laugh, make angry, reinforce values, all these can cause ripple effects? Character- environment- conflict- personality- tone Viewpoint; ( camera-focus) World Overview ; ( wide, mid, close), level of immersion, user Interface Do you have an ending in mind? Is this a linear story or open? ( camera-focus) World Overview ; self cotninuous world, hero can die or get lost Use the walls How do you clone an object How do you give it purpose? Is it alive? Evil? Can you destroy it? Aim for the head? How do you clone an object? He felt like shit It made him angry Will the 'heroes' win? All three of them? Or the lone wolf? The cursing spewed from his mouth with out control the day before was meaningless without willpower, no true power behind it You die when you run out of will The cursing spewed from his mouth with out control the day before was meaningless without willpower, The cracks where showing in the once flawless apartment like castle made of cards He needed an army, and he was going to get one The cracks where showing in the once flawless apartment like castle made of cards How to program madness into little girls though Why was everything an rpg system these days? How to program madness into little girls though How to program hating your self and worshiping the king? How to make cannon fodder at least enjoyable? How to make healers hate healing and love hurting? How to program hating your self and worshiping the king? It was a loss of control he felt with his 'army' Something had to be done The children were not tools but lives that happened to be there It was a loss of control he felt with his 'army' He destroyed the room, but he kept going He couldn't stop or even take a break The loss of control mixed with sugur destroyed him Who were you? Why were you here? What did you want? What was that loud sound that felt like ? hear babies crying killing babies in dream? should you feel guilty? Why are you killing them? Breaks the narrative? Stoling innocence and corrupting youth purity is broken good is dead Life is pain, fun is bloody Scream meaningless in the night as the armies edge near stomach churning experience a memory? as loud as death? random pictures? random memories? or is there a purpose to the mad artist painting? recreate implement? a social network or a place for killers to commingle? 'The killer inside me is he really inside all of us? What to dooo I used to be indecisive He was right I fidget and finally trip and mess up a huge gunfight? I writhe around on the ground and get shot somewhere? no I won't 'tonight is a quiet night'? Is the psychosis art? Is this all for show? It goes on steadily, slowly it all gets worse i feel dizzy who am I? what am I? ahh call the master? I better hurry the artist needs time to work wandering around lost in this maze feelings of inadequacy flood me