#i’m in undergrad for theater and like. you can tell.

[johntorrington]

terror fans are crazy why does everyone here have a masters degree

[bloodmoonmuses]

it waits for dawn | lee taeyong

requested by an anon! send me an ask!

genre: taeyong x reader, friends to lovers, summer coworkers, non-idol au, fluff sorta kinda :)))

wc: 2.3k

warnings: mentions of blood, some swearing

summary: while working your summer job, you meet an eclectic boy who's obsessed with stars and the beauty of the universe.

Working at the planetarium was an odd summer job, sure, but it was about the same pay as the ice cream shop or (God forbid) the zoo. The facility remained pretty empty most days, save for the occasional field trip or savvy tourist. For the first two weeks you worked there, it was just you and the manager, Taeil. Then, one day, Taeil says he finally found another lackey- some guy who just finished his undergrad. 

You’re not sure why a college graduate would be slumming it at a planetarium, but you don’t question the matter any further. At least now you’d have someone to split responsibilities with. 

“He’ll be here any minute,” Taeil tells you.

When he walks in, you’re a bit taken aback. His cotton candy hair and smattering of tattoos almost clashes with the nerdy polo and khakis he’s wearing. You assume this is his attempt at looking “professional”, which is funny because you’re in a band tee and cut-off shorts and Taeil is practically in pajamas. 

“I’m Taeyong,” he says bashfully, dipping his head as a greeting. 

You shake his outstretched hand and his ears turn red. He has the biggest eyes you’ve ever seen, like a drawing almost. The prevailing word at the front of your mind is “cute”. He’s very cute.

Taeyong is a sticker book come to life, eclectic and vibrant against the dullness of the overcast day. You’ve never seen him around before. You would’ve remembered. He must be new in town- or a figment of your imagination. A part of you wishes it’s the latter.

“I’m ____,” you say, fixated on your still conjoined hands. When Taeyong realizes he hasn’t broken away from the hand shake, he drops his arm quickly, coughing to fill the awkward silence. Taeil is none the wiser. 

“If you could show him around the place, that’d be nice.” Taeil says nonchalantly. He walks back into his office, going to take his daily three hour nap. Taeyong looks at you confusedly.

“If you had any worry about this being a strenuous or uptight job-” Taeil’s snoring interjects, “-I can assure you, it is not.” you contend. “It’s like a movie theater, honestly. We run the projection presentations every other hour, and when there’s field trips, we walk the kiddos around for about 45 minutes or so.”

“Ah, really? That’s it, huh?” Taeyong looks a bit disappointed.

“Yeah. Pretty easy,” you say, shrugging. “Oh, and we stock the gift shop.”

—

The next day, Taeyong somehow manages to bomb his first real shift.. You’re shelving plushies in the gift shop when you hear a loud crashing sound. When you make your way to the supply room to see what happened, Taeyong is buried in a pile of commemorative cups on the floor. 

“You okay?” you ask, trying not to laugh. The moon phase tumblers are the most popular of the gift shop items, constantly needing to be restocked. 

“I think so,” he says. As you help him stand, you notice blood on his hand.

“Need a band-aid?” Taeyong’s eyes shimmer with tears, and he places his cut finger into his mouth, pouting a bit. He nods and you grab the first aid kit off the wall. It’s covered in a layer of dust from lack of use. You blow on its surface.

“How’d you cut your finger?” you ask, still giggling a bit.

“I tried to catch the box as it was falling.” He winces as the air hits his wound. “Ouch.”

You “tsk” at him, shaking your head as you open the first aid kit. “Taeyong, you gotta be more careful. Taeil doesn’t care if we live or die!”

He chuckles. “That’s not true! I think he has a soft spot for me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this cleaned up.” You take some alcohol and soak a cotton ball. Then, you clean his (minor) cut, unwrapping a bandage and securing it around his finger. He looks at you with wide eyes.

“Kiss it better for me?” he asks, jutting out his lower lip and extending his hand towards you.

“You wish.”

—

Taeyong and you become quick friends. If he comes in for a shift after you, he brings you ice cream. If the two of you close together, he walks you to your car. If you take a day off, Taeyong sends you pictures of Taeil sleeping.

He’s a great conversationalist as well. You learn a lot about him over the summer. He wanted to be a firefighter before falling in love with art, dancing and music. Now, he has a bachelor’s degree in visual art. He shows you videos of him dancing and lets you look through his sketchbook. He talks about his sister and how she’s just as kind as him. He tells you about his love of stars, and how he mediates on them as if they’re lost lovers. 

Despite the warmth Taeyong’s eyes fill you with, there’s also an underlying sadness in them- stress beyond his years swimming beneath their sparkling glory. He doesn’t speak much of it, but you can feel it. You can also see that stress leaving his body everytime he cranks up the projector for the solar system presentation. His favorite planet is Saturn.

You’re quite fond of Taeyong. You realize this when you catch yourself staring at him on a particularly slow day. A few elderly couples have come to see the permanent exhibit in the front of the facility, but other than that, it’s just you and him here. Even Taeil has taken a day off, the sloth of summer’s near end seemingly blanketing the entire town. The day progresses in slow motion.

Taeyong’s sleeves are rolled up, exposing his arms. You study his tattoos, committing them to memory.  His ever changing hair has been black for a few weeks now, which was a bit out of the ordinary for him. He looks a bit pedestrian, if that’s even possible, and not elven like his usually colorful hair makes him seem.

Despite the snail pace of the day, Taeyong is working way more than is actually necessary- always a self-starter and ready to please. 

“Take a break, Taeyong. You’re gonna have a heat stroke.” The A/C unit is busted. Again. You’ve plugged in a few portable fans, but they’re not doing much.

“Inventory’s gotta get done eventually.” You’re enamored with the multitudes of Taeyong’s character. He’s often an easy going guy, but stern when it counts. Not a killjoy, or anything to that extent, just more upright than you’d assume at first glance. Such is the issue with assumptions; they’re just asking to be subverted. 

You feel bad watching Taeyong lug around boxes by himself, so you push your laziness aside and begin helping.

“I got it,” Taeyong says.

You continue to lift a box, following him on the trek from the supply closet to the gift shop. “I know you’ve got it, but you’re gonna die if you carry all of these on your own.”

“I’m not gonna die,” Taeyong says, blowing a few strands of hair out his face as wobbles about.

“Tell that to the red flush covering your whole body, Superman.” 

Taeyong huffs at you. “You’re so mean to me,” he says. There’s that lower lip again. It’s becoming your weakness, the more he pouts at you. Sometimes you tease him just to see it more often.

“Fine. Want me to stop?” you say, putting down the box you’re carrying. You pretend to walk off.

“No, don’t leave! I feel like I’m gonna die!” Tayong shrieks.

You deadpan at the cartoon of a human standing in front of you.

__

It’s a field trip day and the planetarium is packed. Unlike the usual, Taeil is actually helping, saying something along the lines of “all hands on deck” as if that doesn’t entail a total of six hands. The children stream in like a school of fish, neon summer camp shirts glowing in the bright sun. They’re beaming at one another, skipping and running around with boundless energy. Their liveliness sparks something in you, smiling so much that makes your cheeks hurt. What hurts more, however, is seeing how sweet Taeyong is with the kids. He takes the lead on showing them around the permanent exhibit, explaining the solar system and composition of stars and other space rocks. You watch from the back of the crowd, blaming the flush of your face on the temperature and not on the fact that Taeyong’s smile makes your breath hitch.

You should think he’s the nerdiest person in the world right now. This whole exchange would be great material to tease him with (-something about how he’s a softie and a loser or whatever). However, all you feel is a terrifying fondness taking over you, ripping at your chest as if it’d been ravaged by a lovesick wolf, its claw marks creating deep caverns where your heart lies. It fucking hurts how much you simply like him. You don’t even want to imagine- no, you can’t  even imagine what’d it be like to fall in love with him. 

One of the kids asks about Saturn and Taeyong nearly erupts with excitement. He talks in detail about its rings, tracing his fingers along the ridges of the replica of the planet. His eyes are sparkling, mirroring the faux stars above him. 

When kids leave, you glance at Taeyong. A tired smile is plastered on his face and he contently sighs. “That was so much fun.”

“I’m not sure who enjoyed it more- you or the kids,” you state. Taeyong chuckles. 

“Definitely me. I almost don’t wanna go home,” he says. 

“Then let’s stay.”

After finishing your closing duties, you and Taeyong meet in the planetarium’s theater. In the center of the rows of seats is a projector.  

“Lemme start the presentation,” he says, queuing up a video about Navajo astrology and constellations. “I’ve never actually gotten the chance to watch Southwestern Skies from the seats.” 

After he presses play, the two of you sit right in the middle of the theater. The video comes to life on the dome shaped ceiling. Your jaw drops in wonderment, feeling less self conscious when you see that Taeyong’s mouth is also agape in your periphery. Then, you’re drifting in outer space with him, your seats floating away into the ether as you become completely absorbed into the stars that surround you. You rest your arm on the divider between your chairs, subconsciously inching your hand towards Taeyong’s. As it draws nearer, your desire to interlace his hand in your own grows. The nerve endings at your fingertips buzz. Taeyong is magnetic. 

“This is my favorite part,” Taeyong whispers, awestruck. You try to break away from looking at him, to instead look at the display above you, but you can’t. Instead, you watch the stars in the reflection of his eyes. 

The dome bursts with an explosion of stars as various constellations fade into view. Orion’s Belt, The Big Dipper, Libra and Virgo- Taeyong had told you about them in detail, insisting on thumbing through his astrology textbook as he explained. (He stole it from the library, leaving five bucks on the counter to rid himself of any lingering karma.) Finally, the Milky Way comes into view- referred to as It Waits for Dawn by the Navajo people. Taeyong audibly gasps. 

“I think the whole thing is your favorite part," you tease. 

“Mmm.” He nods in agreement.

Distantly, your mind wanders to how the summer is coming to a close. You’re not sure what will come of you and Taeyong’s friendship. You hope he won’t be a memory, or strangers like the two of you started as. You want him to be a fixture in your life- a constellation to familiarize yourself with and never tire of, even as the universe expands.

You realize you’ve been laying your head on Taeyong’s shoulder.

“Sorry,” you mumble as you move to sit up. 

“It’s okay,” he says. Then, he places his hand on your head, guiding it back to his shoulder. “Unless your neck hurts, or something. Then, I won’t force you,” he adds hurriedly. 

“No, no. It’s good. I’m good,” you say, returning your head to its original position. When the presentation ends, the lights in the theater automatically come up. Suddenly, the moment feels too intimate for daylight, and Taeyong must agree, because he’s tense. You can feel it in his shoulder, the anxiety radiating off of him in waves, but he doesn’t tell you to move, so you continue to rest your head on him 

“Does the universe scare you? All the stars and planets and the unknown...” Taeyong says out of nowhere. Before you can respond, he says, “Ah, nevermind. Forget I asked.” He sheepishly rubs the back of his neck as he backtracks.

“I like the question, silly!” You consider your answer for a moment, lost in thought. “ How infinite it is, yes. But the universe as a concept is very romantic. Like, philosophically speaking.”

“How so?”

You shrug. “It brought us together.”

“What a pretty thought,” he says. 

Life’s a bunch of little universes sewn together. Self contained and finite worlds that exist within infinity. Like your summer with Taeyong- a blip in the grandeur of your life, simply due to how little time he’s spent in it. You want to sew a little bit more of him into your universe. To make him more than a blip. To make him your entire universe. 

“Can I kiss you?” you ask suddenly, throwing caution to the wind.

“I’d like that,” he contends. 

You lift your head from his shoulder and place a delicate peck to his cheek. Taeyong gently grasps your chin, guiding your face to his. He then kisses you on the lips, tenderly, his lips just barely grazing yours. The moment seems to stretch on for infinity, though only lasting a few minutes, and you make haste to sew it into the fabric of your memory.

a/n: unedited + feedback is always appreciated!

[autistic-ben-tennyson]

How Dinosaurs made me a leftist

I’m going to change gears a bit after being burned out from with dealing with liberal Zionists all day. Since one of the most prominent paleontology blogs on tumblr, a-dinosaur-a-day/jewish-kulindadromeus, has been exposed as a Zionist, I decided to write my own post about why dinosaurs have been important to me and how they’ve actually had a significant impact on my political philosophy. Dinosaurs are a stereotypical special interest for a lot of autistic kids and can be a good jumping point for getting into other science fields.

I first discovered dinosaurs when I think I was 5 with the first movie I saw in theaters being Ice Age 3 as well as being given a bunch of old models by my uncles. When I was 7, I got a documentary for Christmas and that same year, we visited a traveling exhibit at the Detroit zoo with animatronics. At the time I thought they were real. They became one of my favorite things and something I could ramble about for hours. During Christmas of 2013, the Walking with Dinosaurs movie was what I really wanted to see when everyone else was gushing over Frozen. I know it’s not a good movie but I liked it at the time and it was even a bit emotional for me.

Jurassic Park became an interest of mine after a trip to Universal Studios in 2014 and seeing JW the following year, although now I hate it especially because of Chris Pratt. Out of the movies, TLW was actually my favorite and I was surprised people hated it. That actually contributed to my dislike of the Nostalgia Critic/Doug Walker for his nitpick filled review, before I learned about any of the Channel Awesome controversy. I still have the collector’s set of the first two JP films as well as Disney’s Dinosaur and the Walking with Dinosaurs series in my dvd collection.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this but I used to be a big fan of Jack Horner, the infamous “T. Rex is a a scavenger” guy. At the time I was interested in his Dino chicken experiments as well as his work on the JP series. Then I learned about the controversy of him dating an undergrad student and that ship sailed. I do find it a little amusing that the irredeemable villain of Puss in Boots: The Last Wish has the same name as the sleazy paleontologist I used to admire. I can appreciate him for mentoring Mary Schweitzer who’s an actual good paleontologist and has made some important discoveries.

So what does being a leftist have to do with any of this? When I was 6, I was exposed to creationism for the first time. My parents thankfully weren’t but we knew a lot of people that were. In middle school, I met a lot more of them. Many of whom went to the same church youth group and school. It was there that I got into some debates about evolution. Sometimes, kids would tell me “dinosaurs aren’t real” or “you should read the Bible more” and I was expected to just put up with it. At the time I really wanted to be a paleontologist and while I no longer do, sometimes I felt bad for wanting that because of what people said. I stopped talking about dinosaurs for a while after that.

Becoming more knowledgeable about evolution pushed me to learn about climate change too and many of the same people who were creationists were also climate deniers. I watched parts of the Bill Nye vs Ken Ham debate and began doing more research. Climate change in turn was a big part of my radicalization which led me to breadtube. I know that breadtube is heavily flawed but it helped me see a lot of the problems with milquetoast liberals and the lies told by American propaganda. I watched those videos during the pandemic around the same time events like George Floyd’s murder and BLM and that cemented me as a leftist.

So that’s the story of how dinosaurs helped make me a leftist. They’re not my special interest anymore, that’s anime, but they still have a place in my heart. Spielberg may be a Zionist but the first two JP movies are still fun to watch. My favorite paleontologist these days is Stephen Jay Gould who that racist Zionist, prismatic-bell, should read after their disgusting post about aboriginal people with his work against scientific racism. I may not want to be a paleontologist anymore but I am considering anthropology. Some may view them as a childish thing but they were a way of escapism for me and pushed me to learn more about science which in turn cemented my disgust towards conservatives who want creationism in schools.

[jcmarchi]

Q&A: A graduating student looks back on his MIT experience

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/qa-a-graduating-student-looks-back-on-his-mit-experience/

Q&A: A graduating student looks back on his MIT experience

Christopher Wang is a senior graduating from MIT this month. The Course 6-3 (Computer Science and Engineering) major has discovered a love for theater during his time at MIT, developing his playwriting, acting, directing, and even lighting design skills through involvement in student groups. But he nearly didn’t come to MIT at all; a chance conversation with his brother brought him to Cambridge. Here, as he prepares for his next adventure, Wang shares some of his experiences at the Institute.

Q: Describe one conversation that changed the trajectory of your life.

A: I spent the first five semesters of undergrad at Washington University in St. Louis, during most of which I was a biology major pursuing medicine. When I switched to computer science at the start of my fifth semester, my brother suggested in passing that I apply for transfer admission to MIT. I did, but honestly, it was mostly to appease him.

By the time the decision came out, I had completely forgotten about it, so I was shocked to see that I’d gotten in! I wasn’t even sure I wanted to go — I had already settled in at WashU, academically and socially, so it was tough to give all that up — but one of my professors told me to go and never think twice about it.

It’s pretty crazy to think about how different my life would have been if I hadn’t applied or gone. I think I would have been happy either way, but looking back, I feel incredibly lucky to have met all the thoughtful, visionary people I know now at MIT.

Q: What’s your favorite place on MIT’s campus to study, and why?

A: One, the lounge on the sixth floor of the Department of Urban Studies and Planning building. It’s a small-ish, cozy room with several tables and a nice view of Mass Ave. In particular, I like that it’s usually pretty empty, which makes it a great place to pset together or work with teammates on a group project! One caveat is that you need to be a Course 11 major/minor/concentrator to gain access, but thankfully, I have two friends who can let me in.

Two, the third-floor atrium in Building 46, the Department of Brain and Cognitive Sciences building. I often run into friends going to or from their Course 9 classes, and sometimes pastries or snacks are also served. Most of all, it empties out in the evenings, and I just really like studying in wide-open empty spaces!

Q: What’s your favorite food found on, or near, campus?

A: I’m a bit of a health nut, so I’m going to say Life Alive! They have a lot of salads, grain bowls, and wraps that are both healthy and delicious, and the nutrition information is also on the website. My personal favorite items are the teriyaki shiitake wrap or the greens, egg, and cheese breakfast wrap. When I’m not being a health nut, I also really like Toscanini’s B3 (brown sugar, brown butter, and brownies) ice cream.

Q: Tell me about one interest or hobby you’ve discovered since you came to MIT.

A: Theater! I didn’t have any theater experience before coming to MIT, but MIT has a vibrant theater scene, including both academics and student groups. I got involved in student groups like Next Act (a musical theater group based in Next House that performs for Campus Preview Weekend every year) and Life On Stage Theater (a group focused on performing contemporary plays) and I completed my HASS [Humanities, Arts and Social Sciences] concentration in Theater Arts as well. I’ve dabbled in many different aspects — ranging from writing plays to playing a Spanish womanizer onstage, from designing lights for dance shows to directing a musical written from scratch. The theater community at MIT is very beginner-friendly, so I’d highly suggest checking it out for anyone who’s interested!

These days, I also frequently seek out plays to watch in the Boston area, and even travel to [New York City] for particular productions from time to time. Of the ones I’ve seen, my favorite musicals are “Beetlejuice” and “Come From Away,” and my favorite plays are “Wolf Play,” “Manahatta,” and “Prayer for the French Republic.”

Q: Tell us about your favorite game — it could be a computer game, a board game, a video game, a game you made up to make long car rides more interesting — anything!

A: Ooh, that’s tough. I’m a big fan of video games and don’t have one clear favorite, so I’m going to cheat and give several:

“Celeste:” A precision 2D platformer with perhaps my favorite game-play mechanics and level design! The physics just feel so smooth and fluid, and the game constantly introduces new mechanisms that allow for some extraordinarily satisfying movement. The difficulty ramps up to insane levels throughout the game, but it’s always paced such that each level is just doable enough for you to keep pushing through. It also has some really nice pixel art and music, and a simple yet powerful story about struggling with anxiety and self-acceptance. (It’s also surprisingly popular among my friends at MIT!)

“A Dance of Fire and Ice:” A precise rhythm game where geometry meets music! Two rotating orbs traverse a track, and you have to tap in rhythm based on the shape of the track. A series of tiles in a straight line (180-degree angles) represents a quarter-note beat, whereas eighth notes are represented by 90 degrees, triplets by 60 or 120, and so on. It makes more sense when you see it, so if this sounds interesting, take a look here!

“13 Sentinels: Aegis Rim:” Of all the sci-fi stories I’ve consumed, this game has the most intricate, staggering, mind-blowing one by far. The basic premise is that 13 high school students are tasked with using the Sentinels — giant mechanized robots — to fight off the kaiju (monsters) invading their world — but that description barely scratches the surface. It takes every science fiction element ever known and combines them all into a single narrative in unique and subversive ways. The game includes the intersecting story arcs of 13 different protagonists that you can play in (mostly) any order, resulting in a dizzying amount of complexity, but never so much that you lose interest. Along with the narrative segments, the game also includes several dozen real-time strategy tower defense game-play stages. Did I mention that the music and art are also gorgeous?

Q: What’s your favorite TikTok, Instagram or YouTube video?

A: “me and the boys after watching mary poppins”

Q: What are you looking forward to about life after graduation? What do you think you’ll miss about MIT?

A: I’m looking forward to having free time that’s completely mine, without having to worry about whether I should be getting ahead on work, investing more time into my research, etc. Normally I’m good at establishing a sustainable balance even at MIT, but sometimes it’s all too easy for me to do too much without realizing how much strain I’m putting on myself. This semester, I didn’t realize how exhausted I was until spring break finally hit.

But that flexibility goes both ways, too: I’ll miss psetting with friends in the evenings on a problem that’s enraptured our brains. I’ll miss the freedom to sip tea and read a book on weekday afternoons without worrying about being somewhere. I’ll miss the opportunities to organize last-minute food outings and hiking trips, the ease of walking down the hall and knocking on people’s doors, the spontaneity of “Smash Bros.” sessions in the dorm lounges.

Most of all, I’ll miss the friends I’ve made here — the friends I play party games with, the friends I go running with, the friends I talk with about the future and our ideals and the kinds of people we want to become. For all of you, I wish nothing but the best, and I hope we still find ways to remember and see each other once we graduate.

[atlafan]

Juvenile and Family Law, is it something that a kid dreams of practicing? No, not really. Is that where the big bucks are if you’re not interested in taxes and wills? Yes, it is. College is expensive, and so is law school; gotta pay it off somehow. It takes a while to build your clientele, a lot of it is word of mouth. You work your way up, and slowly but surely, build a good reputation for yourself. And if you’re lucky, you’ll make partner.

Harry Styles is good at his job, and is on the brink of making partner at his firm. Gallagher, Hilson & Associates Family Law is a great place to work. Isaiah Gallagher and Maria Hilson are two incredible lawyers, and the other associates Harry works with aren’t too bad either. He doesn’t always love working nearly sixty hours a week, and some of the cases he handles have caused him to see the bottom of one too many bottles, but other than that, he’s happy.

Family Law means working all kinds of cases. Custody, spousal support, paternity, and divorce. All of those cases are messy, rarely are they clean cut. Harry happens to specialize in divorce, which in turn can lead to all of the other things listed above. What’s worse is that a lot of his clients will often flirt with him, so he’s started to wear a fake wedding band to ward off any and all inappropriate behavior. It doesn’t happen every time, but it was often enough that he decided to find a way to just avoid the unwanted attention.

Due to how many hours he works a week, Harry’s social life is a little lackluster. By the time he gets home work, all he wants to do is kick his shoes off, plop down on the couch with some greasy Chinese food, and catch up on some television. He lives in a nice enough building in the city. His apartment has one bedroom, and one and half baths. On Friday nights, he’ll go out with some of the other associates for a drink, so he gets a bitof social time in. He’s not lonely, he actually quite enjoys the quiet and solitude. He’s got a cat, Gerry, short for Geraldine that he takes care of. He has what he needs, and he’s perfectly content.

Whenever he dates, people always want to talk about his work. The last thing Harry wants to talk about after a long day at work, is more work. So, he sticks to meaningless hookups, and his own hand, when he needs that type of release.

He doesn’t have too much to complain about. He’s thirty, and massively successful. Some of his friends still live at home while working retail jobs, not that he’s judging. He was twenty-six when he moved out, and he’s grateful his parents let him stay rent free so he could save up for his own place. He doesn’t like to compare himself to others, but it makes him feel good to know he’s all set. He works hard, yes, but it’s all worth it.

//

With how quiet his personal life is, it’s hard to imagine Harry being a shark in the courtroom, but he is. He’s a master in the art of persuasion and rhetoric. Having been a communication major in his undergrad career, and all. He knows how to read a room, and how to read people. The jury is just an audience waiting to watch a live performance. His theater minor also comes in handy here. Being a lawyer is an act, a role he plays. He knows how to play the part when it’s in a large courtroom, or when it’s just a small meeting in a conference room to divide up assets. It’s not always easy, but he makes it look that way. Harry typically wins most of his cases, and when it’s something small, he’s usually able to get his client the majority of what they asked for. Every customer leaves happy.

These skills can’t all be taught and learned. Some people are born with natural talent, skills they learn to hone in on and perfect. It’s a craft that Harry has worked on for years. Again, he’s only thirty, but because he has such precision and talent, it makes him the hot commodity. The office is constantly getting calls for him. It’s why they want him to become the next partner. Having his name on the plaque as you enter would surely put people at ease. Isaiah and Maria saw potential in Harry from the beginning, and they feel lucky that he’s one of their associates.

There other very qualified associates as well, like Niall – who specializes in custody cases – he’s well on his way up. There’s Candice – who specializes in prenuptial agreements – she got into the lawyer game a little later in life, but she’s as sharp as a whip, and shouldn’t be underestimated. And lastly, there’s Byron – who specializes in paternity cases – he thinks he’s going to be the next partner because he’s a bit full of himself.

Harry and Niall are the closest in age, so they hang out more often. They both really like baseball, and will go to a game or two during the season. Candice is the surrogate mother figure. She has no children of her own, she’s the fun aunt to her nieces and nephews, but she feels oddly maternal towards Harry and Niall. The boys often call her “Ma”, instead of her actual name, and she loves it. She looks out for them, and there when they need someone to listen. She’s fifty-seven, and enjoys baking in her free time. She often brings the boys homemade muffins on Monday mornings, and they adore her for it.

Byron…well…Byron is a forty-year-old womanizer who totally clashes with Harry. Does Harry have one-night stands? Yes. Does he ever lie to his partners? No. Byron enjoys playing the game in all facets, and Harry never takes part in it. Needless to say, Harry hates when he has to partner with him on a case, and avoids it when he can.

Isaiah and Maria each have their own executive assistant, or para: Michele and Kyla. They’re both in their late twenties, and rocking it. Harry only interacts with them over email. He, Candice, Niall, and Byron all share the same administrator: Ronnie. Ronnie is twenty-six, friendly, and organized. She doesn’t have time to help everyone on their briefs, but that’s what interns are for, and there’s an abundance of them circling throughout the office.

Harry has a nice office. Plenty of natural light from the windows, he has a desk riser so he can stand up periodically, and he even has his own mini fridge. (He’s often paranoid about people taking his Bubbly, so he just brought in his own fridge.) He’s got a decent enough view of the city; he likes it best at night when the twinkling lights come through. It reminds him of how lucky he is to be where he is in life. He knows he’s more fortunate than others, so he tries to be grateful. He gives back when he’s able, donate to different scholarship funds and whatnot.

Harry is a good man.

//

On a particularly cloudy morning, Ronnie lets Harry know his 10AM consult has arrived. He didn’t know much about his new potential client, but he was always willing to hear someone out. He stands up from his desk, and waits for the woman to enter.

In walks a young woman wearing an expensive, red pantsuit, black heels, and a dark red lipstick. She gives a soft smile to Ronnie before she closes the door. Harry walks over to her, extending his hand.

“Hi, I’m Harry.”

“Mira.” She shakes his hand.

“Please, have a seat.” He gestures to the two seats on the other side of his desk and they both sit. “What brings you to my office today?”

“I heard you’re a pretty good divorce lawyer, and I need a divorce.”

“Is your spouse aware that you’re seeking counsel?”

“No.” She shakes her head and swallows. “I…I’d be putting myself in danger if he knew I wanted to leave him.”

“What kind of danger? If he’s physically abusive, then you need to- “

“He doesn’t put his hands on me like that. It’s…I don’t love him, and I never have. I was essentially…I was sold to him; it was an arranged marriage. I thought maybe I could learn to like him, to love him, but it’s been three years, and I can’t stand him. I need legal help.”

“What do you mean you were sold to him? Were you a child bride? Were you sex trafficked?”

“No.” She chews on her bottom lip. “He made a deal with my father. Thomas got me in exchange for…something. I can’t get into what exactly with you just yet.”

“Does he think you’re happy?”

“Yes.” She nods. “Well, for the most part. I do my thing, and he does his. His job keeps him pretty busy, and I often pretend to be asleep when he gets home. He doesn’t satisfy my needs, so to speak, and I’ve given up on trying. I want to be freed from him.” She pulls out a packet of paper from her purse, and gives it to Harry. “That’s a copy of the contract he and my father signed when they made the deal. I’m not great with legal jargon. I thought maybe if you decide to take me on you could look that over and tell me if there’s any way, I can get out of this.”

“Are you over eighteen?”

“Yes, well over.”

“And were you over eighteen when you were married?”

“Yes.”

“Then how could your father barter you?”

“Where I come from…it can just be like that. The goods we get in exchange for my hand outweighed my happiness.”

“I’m so sorry.” Harry frowns. “My services aren’t exactly cheap.”

“I wouldn’t expect them to be. I can pay top dollar, if that’s what you require. I have money of my own.”

“Alright.” Harry sets the packet of papers onto his desk. “I’ll take a look at that soon, and give you a call.”

“Does that mean you’re taking me on?”

“I hate to see such a nice person be so unhappy.” Harry frowns. “I got into this business to help people, so I’ll help you, Mira.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” She smiles. “There are going to be some things in that contract that may shock you, so please don’t hesitate to call me directly with your questions.” She takes out a business card from her purse. “There’s all of my contact information. If anyone other than myself contacts you regarding all of this, don’t say a word.”

“Don’t worry, I’m good at keeping things confidential.”

“I heard you’re a very trustworthy attorney.” She nods, and stands to her feet. Harry does the same. “Thank you for taking the time to listen.” She extends her hand, and he takes it to shake.

“Of course, it’s what I’m here for.” He smiles and opens the door. He watches her leave, maybe for a little too long.

[DARK SIDED, COMING TO PATREON ON SATURDAY, OCTOBER 2ND @ 8AM EST] [Ask]

[give-seconds]

Sweet Lies

Summary: Sungchan wants to tell you something but is scared to do it face to face. So, he decides to write you letters telling you everything he wants to say.

Paring: Sungchan x female reader

Genre: Angst 

Warnings: cheating

Word count: 2.3K

---

Hi y/n,

I don’t know if you’re ever going to get these. I mean, as of right now, my intention isn’t to give you them. I guess these letters, like the reason they even exist, are for me. Through these letters, I hope to tell you everything I wish I had the guts to say to your face. I wish I could say this was all a mistake and that I could man up and beg for your forgiveness. But it isn’t a mistake. This is a conscious decision I made once and am continuing to make again.

Maybe you’ll even forgive me.

Love,

Sungchan

----

Good morning y/n,

You were gone when I woke up this morning. You wrote me this cute little note about how you had some special surprise planned for me today. I’m sorry, I’ll have to cancel. I already have plans today. I already know what I’ll say to you. I’ll say something about how my work assigned me to a special project and that I have to work late to help design the framework or something like that. Really though, it’s her birthday today, and I promised I’d spend it with her.

I wish I hated myself enough to stop.

Love,

Sungchan.

---

Hi y/n,

It’s kind of funny, actually. Today, you were telling me about a song you found that “is making its way” to becoming your favorite song. It’s a song from the cheater’s point of view. After you played it for me, you said you didn’t know if you could ever forgive someone who cheated on you. That you should be enough for someone, and if the person you’re dating doesn’t realize that, then they’re not someone you would miss.

After that, I was so stressed, I called her as soon as I got home. Her voice is the only thing that can calm me down when things like this happen between me and you.

I’m sorry,

Sungchan

—

Hi y/n,

Today the guilt I felt was too heavy. I called into work sick and spent the day stuffing everything you’ve ever given me into a box. It was too loud. One of the last things I put into the box was our undergrad graduation photo. It’s only been two years since then, but we look so young. Maybe it’s because I look at that photo and think how soon after that, we started our relationship. Back then, you were the only person I could see myself with.

Five months ago, I met someone who made me feel like that again. Those feelings are still there for you—I hope you never think I lost them. I just found someone who holds an equal part in my heart as you do.

Know I love you,

Sungchan

—-

My Dearest,

You showed up at our front door crying. Judging from the frantic knocks on my door from Jungwoo, you scared him pretty bad. Not many can scare Jungwoo like that; he must really like you.

Anyways, after a cup of hot chocolate, you told me what was wrong. You said your dad had another kid with another woman and that he’d never told you about it. That when you were young, he used to have “conference meetings” with the other higher-ups that lasted a few days.

He was really visiting his other family. Your mom even knew about it; you were the only one who didn’t know. You said that you’ve never been hurt by a lie before. While drying your eyes, you decided lies were the worst thing. That from here on out, you are going to live as honestly as you could. You then asked me if I was hiding anything from you and begged me to tell you if I was. “I can’t handle any more secrets, Sungchan. So if you have anything you’re hiding from me, please, please just tell me. I need to get it all over with now.”

I almost cried when you said that, and I’m thankful you couldn’t hear the lie in my voice when I said I wasn’t keeping anything from you. There have only been a few times the bracelet she’s given me felt like it was burning my skin. At that moment, when you begged me to tell you anything I was hiding, it felt like my wrist was on fire. As soon as you left, I practically ripped it off.

I love you, and I’m so sorry,

Sungchan

---

Hey love,

I was looking through these letters today before I went to bed (I’m writing this one as a spur-of-the-moment thing before I go to sleep), and I realized I’ve only been writing about how I hate what I’m doing. And while that is true, I don’t want you thinking that’s the only emotion I feel. I know what I’m doing is wrong, and I don’t deserve to be anything close to the good guy. With that being said, I owe you the truth. But if hearing me talk about my relationship with her is too painful, I suggest skipping this letter.

I met her about six months ago at a flower shop. It’s the shop I bought the flowers I got you for your birthday. She helped me pick them out. Now I don’t know what came over me, but when she asked me who I was getting flowers for, I told her they were for my mom. Before I left, she gave me her number. I almost threw it away, but right before I let go, something stopped me.

I felt something for her, and I still do. It felt like what I felt for you when I first started realizing I liked you. The immediate feeling of comfort that comes when I hear her voice, the blinding smile, the beautiful personality. It was all the same as when I met you.

I’m not trying to say she’s you; she’s more emotional when it comes to watching movies (I still want to find one that’ll make you cry, I know there’s one out there), and she’s a bit more hyper than you are. But the point I want to make is, the things I feel for you, I feel for her. I don’t know how much that’ll mean to you when (if) you read these, but know I feel so much for you. You were the light of my college years, and you continue to brighten my day.

But so does she. She knows things I don’t and can open my mind to a whole new world. She’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met, and it’s frankly amazing.

I’m trying hard not to talk too much about her in this—I don’t want you to think she’s better than you. I just want you to understand that no matter how many times I talk about how much I hate myself or the guilt I feel, I continue to tell you and her lies. As long as I have you two by my side, I’ll continue telling lies.

You both mean so much to me,

Sungchan.

---

Hey y/n,

This letter will be pretty short; I just wanted to tell you what a good day it was today. We spent the whole day together, which always feels therapeutic. I bought us lunch, we went go-carting (I beat you because you were too scared to go fast, it was great), and we looked around at different shops before we went back to my apartment to have dinner with Jungwoo.

It just feels right being with you, and I can’t thank you enough for being in my life. I think we’re a good fit, and so do you. It’s nice to be with someone who thinks so similarly to me, and I can’t get over how well we fit together. I mean, when you left, Jungwoo couldn’t stop talking about how lucky I am to have found someone who fits me so well.

I’m kind of rambling at this point, but I feel so much love for you right now that I wanted to put it down somewhere.

Thank you for being the person you are and loving me like I love you,

Sungchan

---

I’m so sorry,

I thought it was important I let you know right off the bat that I am sorry. Yesterday, I forgot about a date we arranged. We were out looking for a birthday present for her younger brother and got distracted looking at all the different shops. I never even heard the phone ring when you called. You called me five times before you texted and told me you were leaving. You had even tried to make a joke sending me a text that said: “at least we didn’t make reservations.”

Then today, I bought you flowers and told you that I was busy showing the intern around. That I had to do it on a Saturday because he’s from our office in Japan and takes Korean lessons on the weekdays. We do have an intern from our office in Japan here, but I’m not the one showing him around. You told me it was okay and that you understood, but I could tell you were still really hurt.

I feel like an idiot. I know cheating is bad, but I told myself that when I got into another relationship, I would never forget a date with either of you. That was the only standard I was trying to hold myself to, and I failed.

I’ll try harder to never forget a date again,

Sungchan

---

Hey y/n,

I think this is the last letter I’ll get to write to you. Well, I don’t think, I know.

You came to me today, asking what I was doing last night. I lied and told you I was at home watching TV. If there’s anything I will never forget about that conversation, it’s how you looked at me. You had smiled, nodding your head as you looked at me with teary eyes. You looked heartbroken.

When I tried to hug you and ask what was wrong, you shook your head no and backed away from me. Now that truly broke me. So I asked you what happened and you told me about how someone you knew saw me at the movie theater with a girl. You asked me to tell you who the girl was, and I begged you not to do this. I said that if you did this, it wouldn’t end well. That all the memories we had made together would be tainted.

You laughed and told me it wasn’t your fault the memories would be tainted; it was mine. You then asked me again to tell you who the girl was, and I told you what I had done.

I’m not sure when I started crying, and I’m still crying as I write you this letter. You were crying too as you told me we were over. I asked you to listen to me, and you just shook your head. As you walked to the door, you told me you would come by tomorrow to give me the stuff I keep at your house that I should pack up everything of yours. That’s how I’m going to give you these letters.

You also told me that if I’m still a decent person, I would tell the other girl about you. Believe me, after seeing your reaction I want to. But I can’t lose you both. Maybe soon, the guilt I feel when I look at her will make me strong enough to tell her.

Believe me, I know how selfish that is. I just can’t bring myself to do it.

I’m so sorry, and I love you,

Sungchan

---

Sungchan,

I couldn’t even bring myself to say something like “hi” or “dear,” you’re not dear to me anymore. That’s not to say this doesn’t hurt; I still can’t believe you did this to me. I mean, I thought I knew who you were.

I’m not writing this to tell you it’s okay or that I understand you through these letters. I’m mostly writing this because I don’t think I can face you right now. Again, I will never understand how you could do this. I thought I knew you. We’ve known each other for four years, two of which we were dating, and I still can’t believe I don’t know who you are. So while I don’t blame myself for this, I can’t help but wonder. If I knew you better, would you have been able to lie to me for so long?

I hope you know you’re not the hero here. You wrote that one letter about how you didn’t think you deserved to be the good guy, but you wouldn’t be writing these letters if you didn’t think you were justified in some way. You were in no way a decent person, and I hope you remember that.

You also tried to say you loved me throughout your affair. If you loved me, we wouldn’t even be having whatever this is right now. If you loved me, you would have told me about her when I asked you to tell me if you were hiding anything. If you loved me, it would have been you who told me about your cheating and not a coworker. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me? This lady who I only talk to on occasion now knows my boyfriend didn’t value me enough to be committed to our relationship. She only knew what you looked like because she happens to follow me on Instagram and saw all the photos of us I had posted. You don’t love me, and I hope you can stop lying to yourself.

And you’re right—you are being completely selfish by not telling her. So I decided I had to be the bigger person, once again, and tell her myself. I swallowed my pride and asked my coworker to look through your followers with me until she found the girl she saw you out with. I sent a message to her explaining the situation, and guess what? She believed me. You should be hearing from her soon—that is if you haven’t already.

Goodbye cheater,

Y/n

---

Thank you all for reading! I’ve been listening to Sweet Lies by EXO a lot lately, so I decided to write this. Thank you to @jiwvnie and @pastelsicheng for proofreading this for me! 

I would love to know what you thought about this, and I hope you all have a great day/night!

Masterlist

[iwannaholdyoutight-]

Oh, my love (pour me that jack and coke)

Summary: only one more time won’t make any difference, right?

Warnings: FWB!harry, smut. Just the life I wanted to live, honestly.

Wordk count: 3K (small one, sorry, my job and uni are kind of hard right now)

My masterlist

A/n: heeey guys I’m back this time with a fic for @stylesharrys 10k celebration. I got the prompt FWB!harry: “you’re alright, love? You seem a bit flustetered”. Don’t forget to support the other authors who are participating on the challenge HERE. And the singer they listen at the festival that takes place in the flashback is this ONE. 

PREVIEW

Natalie Portman was dancing with her pink wing on the tv and y/n could feel Harry’s eyes on her, hands touching her right arm in a flirtatious behavior. He was wearing a white shirt and black running shorts. She looked at him and his intense eye stare was running through her, she was feeling his desire; the sensual scene only adding to the fire that was always between them and since last satuday increased to a wildfire. She wanted to sit on his lap and give the actress on the tv a run for her money, giving him the best lap dance ever. 

“Have you ever recieved a lap dance?”

“Yeah. Have you ever given one?”

“No” she said timidly, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Do you want to give me one?” Harry asked with hooded eyes and a smirk on his face, tha last rays of sunshine paiting his face a beautiful golden tone, letting his eyes look clear, almost blue. 

“Do you think is a good idea that we do this one more time?”

He smirk at her, his hands fully incansing her face:

“I mean... only one more time won’t make any difference, right?”

They were sitting together at the coffee just down from their work place. Y/n was staring at the judgmental eyes of her best friend, Natasha. Her black eyes looked like two grapes because of her wide stare. 

“It’s not a big deal” y/n said, drinking from her cappuccino with a douple shot and a hint of mint essence. 

“He’s your best friend”

“Who can I trust more to fuck me without breaking my heart than my best friend?”

“You don’t think NOTHING could go wrong?”

Nat was raising her voice, a little bit surprised that her childhood friend just told her that Harry fucked her just  6 days ago, at the Lights festival

“I don’t know if I want to know more or ask you to never talk about it”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tell you if the rumors are true?”

“You are a little bitch. Tell me all of it”

6 days ago...

She was seeing the worlds in colors. The woman singing on the staged was called Sevdaliza and she had the most sensual music ever.

Harry, just like her, was high and they both ended up loosing their friends in the middle of the crowd. Y/n looked at Harry with his glittery yellow shirt and white jeans. He looked like he fit the part: graduated from film school, always writing poetry and reading them at the coffee next to his house. He was celebrating: his script was going to be shot, the small production office decided to endorse his project and he was on cloud nine.

Quite differently from the time she met him: undergrad student, insecure about his art. She worked as a designer and photographer and met him at a visual arts masterclass a few years back, when they were both on their early twenties. Now, each day closer to reaching the big 30s, they were the best of friends. Always together.

Y/n always thought they had nothing but friendship, but now, so close to him, listening to Sevdaliza voice melt the audience of the festival, with his cinnamon smell so tangible in the air and his bird warmt so close: she wasn’t so sure if it was just friendship.

And she can’t deny, she was curious if the rumors were true: was he THAT good in bed or all the lovers of his she ever met were just easily impressed?

What she didn’t spect was for Harry to also have the same questions. He was just behind her getting closer and closer till both of his arms were around her waist and he was crouching so his face could fit like a pluzze in the curve where her neck met her shoulder.

“You smell good” Harry said in a low voice that was meant just for her

“H, what are you doing?”

“I was just wondering...” he was using his hands to turn her around but not releasing her from him, his nose touching hers, his mint breath blinding all of her senses “we are so good together, always helping each other out, figuring it out exactly just what the other wants. So... maybe... you and I could make quite a pair on the sheets...” that only thing Harry got wrong the night was about the sheets: they fucked in her living room.

Now

If you ask y/n she doesn’t remember who kissed who. But they kissed till the show was over and next thing she knew they were sharing a uber back to her place. Nat was staring at her like she had comitted a crime. She wasn’t planning on telling anyone, thinking it was a one time thing. But she was surprised when during a presentation during work she god a text from Harry asking if she wanted to go back to his place after work and maybe have a repeat of last Saturday and Nat was right beside her.

So she had to tell. But judging by Nats reaction, it would have been better if she had lied about it.

“You’re still going to his place. Even if you know what might happen?”

“I mean... is another time really going to make any difference?”

Latter that day

The bus was moving slowly, the 5 o’clock traffic was the worse: nobody had patience, everybody with a 9-5 job was just crazy to finally get home and be able to rest.

From the bus window y/n could see the sky painting the city, the golden light was starting to make itself aware, combining with the aesthetic of the old buildings and bridges.

That’s probably one of her favorite things to do: observe the town she lived in; that city was just so beautiful. There was a contrast of the old with the new. The sun reflecting on the river, calm as ever, while people were running across the streetwalks, dreaming of a homecooked meal and a place to rest.

The bus was taking a left, ready to cross the revolving bridge. Harry’s place was getting closer and she could feel her stomach starting to turn with anxiety  all of it in the forms of butterflies.

Harry’s place was above an old movie place, people say the building dates back to the 1930s: 5 floors, the first being an old movies that still worked, only showcasing indie movies and oldies from the 40-80s. She remembers the first time she ever visited Harry, they talked for hours to end and then they went to the screening of a Doris Day festival. She went home that day singing to herself the theme song of the movie Pillow Talk, thinking to herself why she never went to an old movie theater till that day.

After getting off the bus, she walked just around 10 meters till she was face to face with the old movie theater sign. Today they would have a screening of shorts films from the 40s from 6 to 8 pm and then they would showcase the new movie based on Gloria Steinem’s best seller memoire called The glorias. Maybe if they were done till 10pm she could catch the movie.

Harry’s apartment was on the second floor, with a wooden door, a cat tapestry underneath saying: meowcom. She never thought it was funny but when they saw it at the street fair last year he laughter so hard at it she decided to give him as a Secret Santa gift.

“Don’t you look tired yet dashing this fine evening , miss” said his voice once he opened the door. Stepping aside so she could come in.

She went for a hug, he went for a kiss: they nocked their foreheads.

“Fuck why does your head have to be so big” she asked while taking her shoes off and walking towards his strawberry shaped sofa.

“You can’t expect me to be a movie genius with a small head, right?”

“The question is: what head are you talking about?”

“You know I have both heads quite big, so I don’t know why you asked” he took her purse from her, resting the object on the small table he had set closer to the door so he could always throw whatever he had in his hands there. Y/n took the moment to appreciate how he looked today: baby pink flare trousers and a graphic shirt, he was barefoot but with his rings still on his fingers; she knew he got home not too long ago.

“Harry what is that smell” she was referring to the tangerine smell that was all around his place

“Oh, it’s this tangerine essence oil I got from my upstairs neighbor... you know that one that always reads your tarot?”

“You’re talking about the witch?”

“Yeah, she prefers to refer herself as Wicca but yeah, her. She gave it to me to clean my energy now that I have this big project. And it smells quite nice, doesn’t?”

“Yeah it does” she could feel his eyes on her while she was playing with her nails “so what do you wanna do today?”

“I was thinking we could watch a movie here and then we can see where we wanna go from there?”

“do you have any jack and coke?”

He smirked at her and said:

“With ice?”

The night was young and it was only starting...

After a few glasses and a heated conversation about what movie they were going to watch, they both settled for closer because of the crush they shared on the cast.

Natalie Portman was dancing with her pink wing on the tv and y/n could feel Harry’s eyes on her, hands touching her right arm in a flirtatious behavior. He had changed his outfit, now wearing a white shirt and black running shorts. She looked at him and his intense eye stare was running through her, she was feeling his desire; the sensual scene only adding to the fire that was always between them and since last satuday increased to a wildfire. She wanted to sit on his lap and give the actress on the tv a run for her money, giving him the best lap dance ever.

“Have you ever recieved a lap dance?”

“Yeah. Have you ever given one?”

“No” she said timidly, suddenly feeling insecure.

“Do you want to give me one?” Harry asked with hooded eyes and a smirk on his face, tha last rays of sunshine painting his face a beautiful golden tone, letting his eyes look clear, almost blue.

“Do you think is a good idea that we do this one more time?”

He smirk at her, his hands fully incansing her face:

“I mean… only one more time won’t make any difference, right?”

With that being said, he turned the movie off and she got up from the couch, going to the bathroom and started to look at herself on the mirror

“You know what you need to do. You’ve never done it yourself but you know, I know he has more experience but he is your friend. Nothing can go wrong because he can help you. You both thrust each other and when it comes to sex consent and thrust are the two most important things. You have both with him.”

While y/n was having a mental breakdown over a lap dance, Harry was excited with the idea, cleaning the pizza they were eating and taking the now empty cups of jack and coke back to the kitchen.

He didn’t tell anyone but he was so glad they fucked last Saturday. It just made everything better. She didn’t have to know about how he always had the hots for her. She didn’t have to know that sometimes he would take people to his bed and picture they were her. And she definitely didn’t have to know that another time does make a difference to him.

Diming the lights and looking for the perfects songs to go on about this night. He was shaking with anticipation. After choosing to just play Childsish Bambino (you can never go wrong with that guy) he sat on the couch and that was the moment she opened the door of his bathroom. She had taken off her pants, just with her social shirt loose on her body, with the buttons down to the middle of her chest, her hair always messy and her very colored lips looking so delicious, just waiting for him to say “come here” and she would go... like a little puppy.

“I have never done this so you need to be nice to me”

“Darling... I’m always nice”

She walked over to him, but stopping halfway, going on her fours and crawling her way to him.

“I still have a lot of bite marks on my boobs that prove the exact opposite” now standing in front on him, on her knees, spreading him open, with her tint hands massaging his thighs, marking her way to his short “you don’t mind if I take off your shorts right” she was with her face inching closer to his legs, resting her head right on top of the tiger tattoo, teasing him “I have never given someone a lap dance but I do know that the less clothe, the better if feels”

With both of her hands she took off his pants while he got rid of his shirt. Standing still she admired his body, why did she waited so much to get on it with him? He was soft on the sides but with a strength beneat the bones, with a few abs and chest bigger than most. Green fucked up eyes and rosy lips. He deserved to be on all of the screens, all of the stages, not living in a small flat above an old movie theater.

“You know” Harry broke the silence “for one to give a lap dance she must actually be on top of him”

She didn’t answered him, instead sitting herself on his knees not allowing him any more than that touch. With the tips of his fingers he started to trace her face, admiring her. She was a beacon of light, with every color shining inside her eyes, every sin could be found in her lips but every prayer was found on the way she would blush at his words.

Putting her hair behind her shoulder she got closer and closer to him, using her knees on either side of his body to help her move. Feeling his warmth. She didn’t know how to give a lap dance but she knows him. She knows what makes his knees buckle and what makes him shiver. She was going to make him her little puppy. So with all the confidence she could muster, biting his vein that was always apparent on the neck, her hips started to move.

He was semi hard but the more she moved, the more she could feel him getting harder. That was one of the things she loved the most about sex: the foreplay.

“You know” she got back to talking, not stopping her hips, using her hands to tease all of his body “when we are like this is when I remember how much I’ve always wanted you”

“Fuck, love. You’re going to kill me”

“Oh my love, you have not seen a thing” with one of her hands she started to take off her shirt, leaving her with a rose gold brallete that matched her barely there panties “You alright, love? Look a bit flustered.”

She was mocking him, trying to copy his British accent but that only got him a side smile while his eyes were fixated on the way her nipples could be seen through the piece of glittery fabric. She was having so much fun

“You know” Harry said trying to get a bit of his control back “when you talk like this, you drive me fucking mad” with one hand climbing on her back, till he reached for her roots, tugging on it, now she didn’t knew it she was the one in control  “when you mess with my neck, or when I pull your thighs further apart and I can feel just how wet you actually are and then you kiss me and I’m closer to the point of no return”

With a hand behind and knee he got up, changing position and spreading her all over the tapestry on the floor, the fluffy blood red velvet matching with her skin. He now had the upper hand and he was going to make a good use of it.

With his kisses going down her neck, he started to rut his body against her. Her moisture could be felt throught his underwear and there was nothing that Harry wanted more than to fully ravish the defenseless girl panting underneath his tattooed body. Glistening with sweat and moaning without an ounce of regret.

He wanted her to know he was the only one that could do this to her. With his hand playing with her breast while the other was getting closer and closer to her mound, he looked at her. With her open mouth and closed eyes, out of a painting that deserved its place on the Louvre. He decided to use her own words against her:

“You alright, love? Look a bit frustrated”

“You asshole just fuck me already”

“Yeah, I’ll fuck you good. But only if you promise to stay the night”

“Is this really a good idea?”

“One more time won’t make any difference, right?”

Laughing at the irony she pulled him closer. They had a deal... because it won’t make any difference, right?

But it did.

[propsistops]

my-love-ahsoka

Genuine question from a design theatre undergrad, is there not membership in the big US theatre unions for props artisans? Assuming you’re working stateside that is

The answer here is somewhat complicated and boils down to “kind of.”  For context, I’ve been in the industry about 10 years, mostly as a freelancer in New York, entirely in theater.  NYC is it’s own little ecosystem where most of us are freelancers.  I can tell you that summerstocks are mostly if not entirely non-union; some of the bigger regional theaters have staff or seasonal props positions but it varies by house whether or not that’s unionized. 

In the city, you have a couple union options: IATSE Locals 1, 52, 829, and ACT.  I am not a member of any of these so take this with a researched grain of salt.

Local 1 covers all the Broadway stagehands as well as film and television, essentially a labor union.  It is time consuming and expensive to join. (If anyone is interested in more on this, let me know - I have met with reps about both joining and the process of unionizing a house.)   If you want to be a stagehand, it is 100% worth it.  They are a VERY strong union and you’ll be very well taken care of.  That said, Local 1 contracts are with houses, not with people.  This means that if you, a union member, work in a non-union space you do not earn union wages or benefits.  (Also I believe you’re supposed to notify the union that you’re doing that but don’t quote me on this.)  For a variety of reasons, only Broadway and a few of the larger off Broadway houses are covered by 1, but they also do a ton of film and tv work.  For props, this mostly means that you’re running shows unless you land a sweet TV gig like SNL. There are a few production props supervisors who are union but they tend not to be artisans. There are a couple non-profit companies like Manhattan Theater Club which have unionized Broadway houses and hire artisans but to be honest it’s fairly rare. (There’s also Local 4 which covers Brooklyn and Queens - you can still work in any IATSE house and it’s slightly easier to join.)

Local 52 does cover all the props subdivisions but is exclusively film and television.  This is pretty much all I know about it.

Local 829, also known as United Scenic Artists, broadly covers designers.  This is essentially an artists’ union.  I know a few props people in this union, but most of them tend to also do scenic design.  Despite the name, they cover all New York designers with, of course, the exception of props designers.  They’re a weaker union than Local 1 but it’s also a union that you take with you rather than being specific to a house.  While they don’t currently have a props category, this is something that the community has been gently buzzing about although it’s a ways off. 

ACT - Allied Crafts and Trades, a subset of IATSE - is the union most props people are in if they’re in one at all.  Most of the regular Broadway prop masters are covered as are touring props people.  It’s significantly easier to get in.  You still have to pay but unlike Local 1 you get in by being sponsored by someone.  This can be a union member in good standing who knows your work, a production company, or a show.  Non-union prop masters who work in union houses are generally on “pink contracts” which is basically an agreement with Local 1.  It’s kind of like being temporarily union but also very much not like that.  I’m happy to go into what I know about this if anyone’s curious but my last pink contract was about seven years ago so my memory is a little vague.  ACT I believe also only covers you in houses that already deal with IATSE. 

Again this is all fairly New York specific but I believe IATSE locals (other than ACT) do tend to cover specific houses rather than freelance artisans like myself.  (Someone correct me if I’m wrong.)

tldr: there are unions props gigs but they are almost entirely centered around Broadway, film, and tv.  For someone who chooses to work mostly in non-profit theater, mostly as an artisan (as I do), there currently is no good union.  Because we fall at the intersection of labor and artistry none of the unions are quite sure what to do with us. 

I hope this helps and is not way more info than you wanted.  Please let me know if you have any other questions - I’m happy to write another essay or point you in the direction of someone with better information. 

[fiveisnumber1]

The idea of Klaus helping the H8 with history reports never crossed my mind and now all I can think of is the H8 turning up randomly in front of Klaus with The Expression™ cuz they need to fulfill their semester's history credit or research some guy for their actual courses but combing through academic records takes too long and they're tired undergrads and just want to get it over with. Talking to ghosts is just easier. Klaus can instantly tell what they want and he wants to deny them but also can't cuz they're looking at him so pleadingly and Ben is nagging encouraging him to help too and they promise him stuff which he technically can get on his own but Allison's keeping a strict check on his finances (and he isn't completely irresponsible either, he doesn't WANT to blow all his inheritance on drugs) so helping the kids with their history reports is easy money.

There are mixed results however because history as we know it is not necessarily history as it exists and the H8 find themselves in a pickle if their reports deviate from actual research.

Addison: And so X person laid the foundation of modern theater as we know it by combining these elements of opera to theater

Professor: That's a lovely presentation Ms Evans but it's actually Y person

Addison: No its X

Professor: How are you sure? The records only exist for Y

Addison: *silence cuz how can she tell the teacher she literally talked to all the long dead people involved in theater history*

Addison: *grumbling as she stares at her B grade later on* This is why I hate acting theory

And:

Professor *teaching*: And so Criminal A killed 20 people in the year 1933 alone while simultaneously running a drug cartel

Dean: thirty

Professor: What?

Dean: He killed 30 people that year. The rest were cold cases that were never cracked but it was definitely him

Professor: I'm gonna need to see some proof for that Mr Hernandez. *swiftly moving on* So as I was saying-

And:

Five: So Scientist N was working on this theory for quantum molecular thermodynamics and has been analyzed for decades

Reader: But it was actually Scientist M who made progress in it by changing his methods that went unrecorded

Professor *nursing a headache*: Mr Hargreeves, Ms L/N, once again may I remind you that you cannot present your own theories that are not backed by scientific journals as fact. You may work on them as your own individual thesis but you cannot present them as made up history without evidence.

Five: They are Not theories. They're FACT.

Professor: But the journals-

Reader: Are useless. I read the journals analyzing Scientist N's work when I was a child. None of them had anything useful on molecules.

Five: Or theoretical quantum mechanics

Reader: And we asked the scientists ourselves.

Five: They're disappointed at how dimwitted modern academics are

Just all the H8 presenting the truth to their class but it's taken as a lie because history doesn't remember things quite the way it actually was and cuz modern academics require peer-reviewed information as proof although a lot of that proof also exists outside of just academic circles.

I feel like at some point someone would snap. Like one of the H8 would just get so frustrated that they know the truth and no one is listening to them about it that they would snap and call Klaus. Like:

Professor: Mr. Wagner, I appreciate your presentation but you cannot just claim that these two historical medical figures were in a same-sex relationship with each other. You need solid evidence for such a statement.

Kenny: You know what, I’m done. You want proof? I’ll get you proof. [pulls out phone and calls Klaus]

*five minutes later*

Klaus: I’m here. This better be important Allison, Vanya, and I were about to have tacos.

Kenny: I don’t know how you got here so fast but I’m glad you did. [turning to professor] get ready for your proof sir. This is Klaus Hargreeves or if you recall the seance from the Umbrella Academy. He can conjure up ghosts of people who have passed. Klaus, do your thing.

Klaus: I still get $20 bucks right?

Kenny: Yes. Just show them.

Klaus: [onjures up historical figures A and B]

Kenny: Hi again. We’re you two gay?

Historical Figure A: Why, yes.

Historial figure B: Of course, we have been together for many years in both our living lives and after our deaths.

Kenny: [turning to the professor] How’s that for proof?

[the-hopeless-haze]

Someone to Sit In Your Chair and Ruin Your Sleep (Being Alive Chapter 3)

(not my gif)

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Read on Archive

But he doesn’t hate you enough to take you to a shitty, cheap restaurant, no, he takes you to one of his favorite Cuban joints a few blocks away. He doesn’t hate you enough to tell you to move out of the seat he wanted to sit in (he always sat facing away from the crowd, but you’d made a beeline for that seat when you first got there). He doesn’t even hate you enough to make you pay for dinner, or even split the bill with him, despite your protests and insistence that you were only joking before.

Dinner isn’t awkward, per se, and as far as first dates go this one is going alright, he thinks. First dates were usually easy, though, as they didn’t reek of forced commitment and the staleness of knowing a person too well. You flirt with him a lot, and maybe he shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was, considering what you had the boldness to say outside the precinct hours earlier. Still, what the hell did you see in him, a man much older than yourself? Maybe you had issues too.

He can’t deny it, though, you’re absolutely beautiful, especially now, your cheeks flushed from the wine and conversation, and a seemingly permanent smile on your lips as you talk. Vaguely, he wonders if he ever gave you signs that he was interested, because lord knows he tried not to. Something had to have given you the nerve to shoot your shot, though, especially after what you’d said to him. You probably knew you were gorgeous, knew if you turned up the charm you could at the very least get a free dinner out of him.

But is that all you wanted? What did you want from him? What the hell else could he even offer?

“You know, I really do want to apologize for what I said, again,” you say after your plates are cleared. “I really don’t know why I went there. I mean, that’s not like me. I do like you, you know? You can be a hardass sometimes, though.”

“So I’ve been told,” he says, and he can’t help but grin.

“Well. I’m sorry for taking it so personally. I know you’re just doing your job.”

“Mm. Well, I suppose I can forgive you again.”

“Wow, thanks, Rafael,” you tease, smiling that beauty pageant smile again as you hold up your wine glass. “To starting over?”

He’s tempted to roll his eyes but he plays along instead, lifting his own glass to clink against yours. “To starting over,” he repeats, even though, semantically, you had never started anything until now. If you were even starting something.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Detective?” he asks, his hand on your waist as he leads you out of the restaurant.

“I did. The food was delicious. You know, I have a name, right? Or are we still not on first-name basis yet?”

He gives in to temptation this time and rolls his eyes, stopping short outside the restaurant. “Do you want to come back to my place for a few drinks, Detective, or do you want me to take you home?”

You laugh, “I don’t put out on the first date, Counselor.”

“I wasn’t—“

“But if you’d really like to just have drinks, you don’t have to force my hand.”

“You really take me for that kind of man?” he asks. He hates you, he hates you so much, his blood is boiling again.

“Why don’t you relax? I know you didn’t mean it like that.” Your eyes meet his, and you smile, kissing his cheek. “I’d be absolutely enchanted if you would take me to your apartment for drinks, Señor Barba.”

He rolls his eyes again, his lips pursed into a thin line. He still hates you. Maybe more so now. He misses when you used to shut that snippy mouth of yours.

——-

He’s livid when you sit in his chair, the one he always sits in, the recliner closer to the TV. Why couldn’t you have taken the couch? That’s what it’s for, guests, although maybe it’s been so long since he’s had any that you can tell it doesn’t look as lived in as the rest of the place.

Not that he's really ever home. He either spends his nights in the office with a pounding headache, or he’ll have dinner with his mother and abuelita. On rare occasions, he’ll join the squad for drinks, but he always feels disconnected, like he doesn’t quite belong. Amanda and Nick were closer than friends but not quite lovers, Fin and Olivia had known each other for over a decade, and you and Carisi are already thick as thieves despite his recent arrival. Rafael was always the odd one out, the one to make a composite number prime. Whatever conversation he entered, he was always the third wheel.

But now, an even rarer occasion, it’s just you and him, and your heels are digging into the leather of his chair as you curl your legs under you.

He asks you to get out of the chair gruffly, and you laugh, saying, “You know, Counselor, I’m getting the feeling that you don’t like me.”

“Oh, now you’re catching on?” he quips. “What do you want to drink?”

“I’ll have what you’re having,” you say, getting up from his chair to move to the couch, your heels clicking on his hardwood.

“You drink scotch?”

“I will,” you say.

He mutters in Spanish to himself, setting up two glasses with ice and pouring the amber liquid over it.

You’re sitting on the sofa, staring at your phone when he walks in. “Do you want me to take your jacket?”

“Sure,” you say, standing up and loosening the sleeves. He takes it from you, bringing it into the kitchen, where he puts his own coat and suit jacket down.

“You're still the only person I've ever seen wear suspenders.” You tease, bringing your drink to your lips as he walks back into the room.

“Thought I was well-dressed.”

“Yeah. I don’t retract that statement.”

“You’re beautiful,” he tells you suddenly, making eye contact with you, feeling slightly uncomfortable at how the compliment rolls of his tongue, but it’s worth it because you blush a little. Maybe you actually didn’t know you were stunning. Rafael sits down next to you on the couch, close enough that his knee almost touches yours.

“You think so?” you ask, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I honestly didn’t think you noticed me.”

“It’s hard not to.”

“Mm. Charmer,” you say, your grin widening. You press your knee to his, lean over a little. “I think, counselor, that you should kiss me, then.”

“Is that what you think, (y/n)?” he asks quietly, trying out your first name for the first time.

“Mm. Unless you don’t want to?”

God, did he want to, but it would mean there was no going back. Although, maybe at this point, it wouldn’t matter. Your mutual attraction had been laid out on the table and you were no longer merely coworkers. And he can’t lie, he loves the anticipation, but he’s worried about what will happen after all that fades. When you inevitably ended this, how could you work together?

“What do you want from me?” he asks.

“I think I made myself clear. I want you to kiss me, Rafael,” you tease.

“That’s not what I meant, (y/n). You know what I’m asking you,” he says, cursing himself for stuttering over your name. He leans closer, too, leaving his drink on the end table, moving his hand tentatively to your knee.

“Why don’t you kiss me first?” Your voice lowers an octave, and he’s never seen a woman more sultry or more antagonizing. “Are you really going to make me beg?”

Fuck.

His hand comes to touch your cheek, and it burns the palm of his hand. He uses his thumb to brush your lips gently. “You can’t just give a straight answer, can you?”

“No,” you smile against his thumb.

“Except for that,” he says, and he’s smiling too, even though he can’t stand you, and he closes the distance between the two of you, kissing you gently.

He hates you more now, hates the way the scotch tastes on your lips, hates the feel of your mouth on his.

But he needs more.

You, being you, your hands come to grasp his suspenders and he’s leaning in closer, aiming to take all the breath you had in you.

“So what do you want?” He asks as he makes himself pull away, breathless.

“More of that. But... Let’s just see where it leads us, okay?”

“Not an answer.”

“I don’t know the answer yet. Do you?”

“Well...no,” he admits. He can’t commit to you and he was bound to tell you that if you asked to be his girlfriend. But you didn’t. Maybe you weren’t ready yet, either.

“It’s just, we work together. Better if we take things slow,” you say.

“Agreed.”

“So we’re on the same page? That’s a first,” you giggle, but he doesn’t get a chance to respond sarcastically because your mouth is on his again.

The drinks flow a little too quickly for his liking, but he’s opening up a little, loosening his tie and his lips. He tells you about his Mami and his abuelita, only good things, and he makes you laugh at stories he has from the theater company he was part of in undergrad.

Even with the alcohol in your system, you’re tighter than him. You don’t give away much of any information. You have a younger brother, he learns, and your parents are divorced. Vaguely he wonders if your father walked out - maybe that’s why you came onto him like that. Rafael prays that’s not the case, because he can’t even sort out his own daddy issues, never mind your own. He might be older, wiser, over the games men your age played, but he’s no father figure, that’s clear.

Thankfully, you mention that your father helped you set up your apartment when you moved to New York and Rafael relaxes. So it wasn’t your father who hurt you, but someone did.

Oh, look at him, trying to psychoanalyze a detective, no less one with a psychology degree. Stupid. Whatever damage you had was cloaked in coping mechanisms and flirting, because you knew how to hide it having studied it yourself. And maybe he shouldn’t be so focused on trying to figure you out. That’d be getting too close too damn fast. He didn’t owe you that.

You kiss a couple more times throughout the night, but it’s nothing too wild. You made clear that you weren’t putting out and he didn’t expect you to. Even still, he’s not ready for even that. Sex doesn’t have to be intimate, as he knows from past experience, but with you, it’d be crossing a bridge into uncharted territory. And Amanda was a goddamn hound. She’d smell it on both of you before he had a chance to talk to Olivia or McCoy about it.

It isn’t until midnight that he checks the time. “Mierda. I have to be back in the office for 8 tomorrow,” he says, shaking his head. He hates you.

You kiss his cheek. “I should’ve kept track of the time. I can get a cab home. You don’t have to bring me back.”

“What time do you have to be in?”

“9...”

“Go in early and take the OT. Stay here. I’m not going to have you try and hail down a cab this late...and this inebriated.”

“I can take the couch—“

“No. You already ruined my sleep. Come to bed,” he says, and you don't argue.

It's been so long since he's slept next to someone else, and he can't seem to make it there anyway. So he watches you through half-lidded green eyes, your chest rising and falling. Jesus, Olivia’s pissed-off face runs through his mind and he can only imagine the reaming out he’d get if she had any idea that you were in his bed right now. Sure, they were friends, but there is no way in hell she would approve of him dating one of her detectives, especially not you. Sometimes Rafael thinks Olivia sees too much of her younger self in you. Some of it was valid, sure, but she’d really taken you under her wing in a way she hadn’t with, say, Amanda. Perhaps some of it has to do with the fact that she was your boss from the start of your hire, but either way, she’s protective and almost maternal toward you. He’s seen her going to bat for you, intimidating a suspect who made a sexual comment about you in front of her. Christ, Rafael would not want to be on the receiving end of that vitriol, that piercing look in her normally soft brown eyes as she said something about wanting the suspect's balls in a blender.

So that keeps him up for a while, but he's not really dating you, is he? You're just keeping him company and keeping him up at night. Olivia didn't need to know a damn thing.

Of course, you're an early riser, and he has half a mind to wonder if you were trying to get out of the apartment before he woke up, but you're also very loud as you stumble around his room and wake him out of his fitful sleep. "Sorry, Rafael," you say, blushing. "I can't really sleep past 5:30."

"Whatever, I'm already awake," he grumbles, sitting up.

"Mm. No wonder why you need that much coffee," you tease cheerfully, leaning over to kiss him. "Grumpy, much? Guess you wake up on the wrong side of the bed every day."

"You are...beyond irritating, (y/n)," he murmurs. "You're lucky you're beautiful."

You laugh heartily at that, too grating and high-pitched for this early in the morning. "Mm. You're lucky you're attractive, too, Rafael. I don't think anyone could tolerate you otherwise."

So was this how it was going to be? Maybe this could be fun; until it wasn't. Rafael tries not to think about it ending, because hell, it'd barely started, but he's learned that the long-term doesn't work for him. And he had nothing to show for trying, either. You would flit into his life, stay your time, and then leave just as quickly as you came; like you were never there at all. That's all he ever was, a stepping stone to bigger and better things. Hell, Yelina almost married the Mayor of New York.

Fuck it. He wasn't jumping in headfirst, Lord knows he's far too hurt and afraid to do that. But he could see this through for a little while. It's not like he had any better propositions, right?

NEXT CHAPTER

[gohyuck]

Love and War Act I - LDH

theater kid! hyuck with some enemies to lovers realness

word count: 3.2k

warnings: a lot of swearing and a lot of hatred, possible nsfw in future chapters

notes: in part based on this post

part of a series: yes, this is part 1

in which you really, really, really can’t stand lee donghyuck

Act I, Scene I: An Introduction of the Situation

You’ve never hated a musical more. 

In an effort to ‘generate student interest in the arts’, Neo Culture Tech’s very own Mr. Taeil Moon, head of the fine arts department at what can only be described as a STEM college preparatory school, had put word out that this year’s fall theater show would be an entirely student-produced musical. Whether it was to elevate NCT’s arts up to the level at which they’d have to get the same funding as the robotics team or whether it was to truly cultivate creativity, nobody was sure. Still, the play persisted. From the actual dialogue, to the songs and their composition, to the dances choreography, everything was to be a bona fide effort from students across the school, not just in the theater department. Before anyone could say anything, the band and orchestra students were forced to create and compose scores and songs while the choir kids had to write lyrics for their semester project. The dance team had to choreograph everything and the art students were told they’d be making the posters for the show.

All of this, of course, was to come after the actual play had been written by the students in the Theater IV: Theater Productions class. 

If only you’d stayed in Theater III. 

Regardless, every good story starts from the beginning. And at the start of this one, there was a group of 13 potential starring roles in the tragedy? Comedy? Romance? Of Mr. Moon’s Theater IV musical production.

The official Theater IV roster was - and is - as follows:

(Name) - (Nickname)

Julia Choi - (Lia)

Renjun Huang

Lucy Hwang - (Yeji)

Somi Jeon

Chaeryeong Lee

Donghyuck Lee - (Haechan)

Jeno Lee

Jaemin Na - (Nana)

Jisung Park

Joanne Shin - (Ryujin)

Hussey Shin - (Yuna)

Chenle Zhong

13 is a decent amount of people able to give input on a play - from characterization, to plot, to underlying themes, there’s a place for everyone. If all of you worked on it, it could’ve been done at the speed of light, with ample time for revision and practice. Playwrighting wouldn’t have been harrowing. In fact, the project seemed fun at the beginning, and it was something you were genuinely looking forward to. After all, you genuinely liked everyone in your class… or, at least, almost everyone. Still, with 11 other people besides you and him, you would have ample buffer for the brain damage you were sure he would inflict upon you simply due to proximity. 

You forgot entirely about Murphy’s Law.

Jeno, Renjun, Somi, and Chaeryeong were the first to opt out of writing the play, gently reminding Mr. Moon that they were tech theater students, and would much rather design and build the set. It didn’t take long after that for Jaemin, Ryujin, Jisung, and Yeji to choose choreographing with their dance teammates over being playwrights. Yuna was quick to state that she’d rather make the posters in her art classes, and both Lia and Chenle decided that writing lyrics in choir would take up enough of their time as it was. 

At the start there were 13. 

You were happy, looking forward to talking about settings with Somi and comedic effect necessities with Jaemin. You weren’t only in theater to act - you were in the program in order to satisfy your need to create. Creating an entire play from nothing made you more eager than anything.

That is, until 13 dwindled down to 2 with alarming speed. 

Act I, Scene II: The Devil Incarnate

“Her royal highness is finally here!” Donghyuck faux cheers as you walk into your English Literature class right before the bell rings. The smirk in his tone is not lost on you, though you do mentally revel in the fact that nobody laughs at his stupid declaration. His seat is to the right of yours, but that doesn’t keep him from angling away from the board just to prop his feet up onto your desk. You don’t grace him with a response, only rolling your eyes before shoving his sneaker-laden feet off your desk none too ceremoniously and dropping your backpack onto the floor beside you as you slide into your seat. 

“What,” He starts, evidently hellbent on annoying you at 8 in the morning. You don’t turn to look at him, though you can distinctly see his shit-eating grin out of the corner of your right eye. Donghyuck leans towards you, his face coming far too close to you for your own comfort. You hope he’ll get the hint from your silence and leave you alone, but he continues speaking, much to your chagrin. “No snarky response from our resident ice queen today? Is your tongue frozen solid, princess?”

“Call me princess one more time, and you won’t even have a tongue left,” You threaten, still facing forward in your adamant refusal to look Donghyuck Lee in the eyes. He lets out a short laugh and leans back, finally properly settling into his own seat, pleased at his success at pissing you off. Before either of you can try to insult the other again, Mr. Suh rushes into the room, his Staff ID askew around his neck and his glasses sliding down his nose. The door flies shut behind him, and you straighten your back. 

Class has officially started. 

“You were only three minutes late today, Johnny,” Beomgyu calls from the back as your teacher is getting himself settled, and you turn to see your classmate holding up his watch, mirth in his eyes. “It’s a new personal record.” 

As if cued, the rest of the class bursts into a round of applause, with Donghyuck whistling with his fingers beside you. Mr. Suh - better known simply as Johnny to his students, due to him being fresh out of his undergrad - can’t help but chuckle at your class’ antics, doing nothing but shaking his head and pushing his glasses up onto his face. 

“Alright, before I get called down to the front office again, let me fill out attendance,” Johnny says eventually, finally sitting down at his computer. While he starts calling out everyone’s names you rifle around in your backpack, searching for your copy of The Taming of the Shrew, the book you’re all currently reading in class. Though it has some… questionable moments and themes, you can’t help but love it - you daresay it’s your favorite required reading book yet. Just as you find it, Johnny says your name. 

“(Name),” He says, and you straighten yourself out, your copy of the Shakespearean play gripped firmly in your hand. “I’m h-” 

“She’s here. Didn’t you feel the frost when you came in?” Donghyuck beats you to it, and you finally whirl around to glare at him, raising the hand holding the book up high as if you’re about to beat him with it. 

“Donghyuck Lee, I fucking swear -”

“Alright, alright, alright,” Your teacher raises his voice, coming to stand between the two of your desks. “I’m going to ignore the swear word this time because Haechan’s being annoying -”

You lean back to meet Donghyuck’s eyes, sending him a smirk that directly contrasts his wince. 

“- But you know better than to let your emotions get the best of you on things like this.” Johnny finishes, his words now aimed at you. You sigh, lowering your book to rest on your desk and slouching back into your chair. 

“Now behave, you two, got it? Act like actual people for once.”

The snickers of your classmates behind you cause your face to go red, and your anger at Donghyuck flares up again alongside your urge to crawl into a hole and hibernate. Still, through a furrowed brow and clenched teeth, you nod your agreement.

“Yes, Johnny.” You say at the same time Donghyuck mutters a “Sorry, John.” Both of you slide down even further into your seats. 

Neither of you say anything to each other for the rest of class, though you make sure to send scathing glances his way whenever your eyes seem to meet. To his merit, he manages to flip you off effortlessly every time Johnny turns towards the board. By the time class ends and you’re packing up, the two of you are seething silently, anger emanating off of your persons. Donghyuck jostles you on purpose on your way out of the room, but before you can give him a piece of your mind out of Johnny’s earshot, he’s halfway down the hallway on the way to his next class. Still, you train all your angry thoughts in his general direction, praying he’ll trip and fall flat on his face, or something.

Jeno, who’s just walked out of the classroom next to yours, makes his way to fall into step beside you as he always does. He follows your red hot gaze towards Donghyuck, who’s currently leaning against a locker and talking to Renjun. 

“You shouldn’t let him bother you so much,” Jeno finally says, and you roll your eyes before looking up at your friend. “It gives you too much grief.”

“He shouldn’t be bothering me so much.” You counter, and a small smile crosses Jeno’s face as he shakes his head in both amusement and disbelief. 

“I guess you aren’t wrong.” He acquiesces as he pulls open the door to the chemistry classroom, letting you walk in before him. The two of you share a lab table and you pull his stool out along with your own as you orient yourself.  

“I still can’t believe you and him are friends,” You tell Jeno as he sits down beside you. “You’re so you and he’s so… him.”

“We have, like, 90% of our interests in common, (Name),” Jeno laughs, knocking your shoulder with him. “If the two of you stopped going at each others’ throats for even a moment, you might even learn to like each other.”

You can’t help the fake gagging noise you make at the suggestion, and your friend rolls his eyes at you, though not before laughing. As the rest of your classmates start filtering into the room, the two of you switch smoothly to another topic of conversation - “Can you believe Moon’s making us do all of the play stuff this year?” “I don’t know, Jeno, it seems kind of cool to me.” “I mean me too, but damn… imagine the hours I’ll be putting into set design this year.”-  all thoughts of the devil himself banished from your mind. 

Act I, Scene III: Murphy’s Law 

You’re almost at the door, deep in conversation with Hyunjin about a protest she’s planning when Mr. Jung calls your name, stopping you in your tracks. 

“Yes?” You ask after motioning for Hyunjin to go on to lunch without you. You haven’t done anything wrong that you can think of - not recently, you note, remembering the time you really had almost set Jeno on fire - so you can’t help but be confused about why he needs to talk to you. Before you can ask, your teacher holds out a slip of paper for you to take.

“The note Jaemin delivered earlier is for you. He said it isn’t urgent, so I figured I’d send you during lunch instead of during class.” 

You relax your shoulders almost instantly before taking the bright orange piece of cardstock from Mr. Jung’s grip. You head out of his room - though not before thanking him - and unfold the note immediately after walking into the hallway. 

Please come see me at your convenience! - Moon :)

♕ ♕ ♕

You get to the black box room before Mr. Moon does, causing you to lament not buying your lunch before coming to meet him. As you wait, you pull out your book, determined to at least do something with your time at the moment. Katherine and Petruchio are in the midst of hurling insults at each other when the sound of footsteps startles you out of your book, and you lay it down beside you just in time for Donghyuck to walk in and drop his backpack onto the floor by the door, his eyes trained on the phone in his hand. 

Wait.

Donghyuck?

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your tone is biting at best. He looks up from his screen in surprise, though his expression quickly morphs into one of clear disdain once he sees that it’s you who’s speaking. 

“Got a message from Moonie. What the fuck are you doing here?”

You hold up your orange slip, only just noticing the identical one hanging between two of his fingers. His eyes dart down to his own again before back up at you, seemingly still waiting for a response. 

“Same here.” You respond, and he sneers at you. Donghyuck looks like he’s about to say something - likely hurl an insult that’s completely unrelated to the situation - but, with spectacular timing, Mr. Moon walks in through the door, a large soda in one hand and a fast food bag in the other. Donghyuck finally sits down, his backpack still by the door. 

Your theatre director places his food on the desk in the corner of the room before leaning against it, placing his hands against the edge of the table for balance. He surveys the two of you, both of you on different sides of the room, for a moment.

“I guess you’re wondering why I’ve called you here,” Moon finally says, his words directed at you both. You nod while Donghyuck says a quiet “Yep.”, neither of you looking at one another. Moon nods himself before pushing himself off of his desk, reaching over to grab ahold of his rolling chair. 

“Come,” He looks at both of you, nodding towards the center of the room. “Bring your chairs in.”

You stare at your director for a moment before sighing, careful not to let Mr. Moon see you rolling your eyes. Reluctantly, you stand up, grabbing your chair and moving to sit in front of him. Donghyuck follows suit, managing to put as much distance as humanly possible between you while staying close enough that Mr. Moon won’t reprimand him. 

“You both know how your Theatre IV class is meant to be the ones writing the musical itself, right?” 

The two of you nod, and you can’t help but wonder what direction Moon might be going in. There’s thirteen people in your class - why is it just you two he’s called in?

“Out of everyone in the class, you two are the only ones that aren’t either tech theatre students or double dipping when it comes to fine arts.” Your director continues, his words coming out slower than usual. It almost feels as if he’s trying to force the two of you towards the conclusion rather than telling you what he means to himself. Still, you know your expression is one of confusion. Mr. Moon winces almost imperceptibly before sighing and leaning back, rolling back-and-forth ever so slightly with his chair. 

“When it comes to this year’s musical, students can only work with one of the departments, because having anyone work on two parts of it would be way too much work,” He finally says, leaning towards you and Donghyuck again. Silence falls over you as you furrow your brow, trying to figure out what Mr. Moon might mean. 

It hits both you and Donghyuck at the same time. 

“There’s no way I’m working with just him -”

“Moonie, c’mon, do you really hate me this much -”

“Stop.” Moon says, his voice rising easily in volume. He puts both of his hands up in emphasis, and you realize you’ve leaned further forward than you’d realize. You settle back into your seat, though not without returning the scowl Donghyuck is sending you. 

“If I didn’t think the two of you could do it together, I would’ve just written the damn thing myself,” Your director says, glancing sharply at both of you before continuing. “You’re my two best students - you both know this. I’ve seen you put your differences aside to act together on stage. This shouldn’t be any different than that.”

You stare at Mr. Moon for a long moment, weighing your options. You can say no, you know you can - though he’ll advise strongly against it, Moon will ultimately let you back out of the musical’s production if you ask - but your ego refuses to let you. That, and you’d been genuinely excited to work on it before, and you’d rather die than let Donghyuck, of all people, take something you care about from you. That, and you don’t trust him to write a good play worth performing. You’ll be damned if the fine arts department has to count on him in the end. Hell, you’ll write it by yourself if you have to.

“Fine,” You say, raising a hand up to rub your temples out. “But I’ll only play nice if he does, too.”

“You act like I’m the one who finds it difficult to interact normally with other people.” Donghyuck scoffs, and you shoot him a sharp glare. He returns it evenly for a beat too long before finally tearing his eyes away and hanging his head. You watch as he runs a hand through his hair and throws his head back, groaning loudly as he does so, almost as if it pains him to say his next words. When he finally looks forward at Moon again, he sighs before speaking.

“I’m in,” He declares, throwing you an unreadable look. “Let’s get this over with.”

Moon’s face lights up immediately, and, for a moment, you don’t regret what you’ve just agreed to.

“Brilliant!” He claps, standing up from his chair. “We can discuss it together as a group during our next class, but I’m glad we have this sorted out. Now,” He says, moving his chair back over to his desk before settling back down in it. “I have to eat lunch, and I’m guessing you both do too. Scram.”

You get up, placing your chair back from where you got it before gathering your things. Donghyuck avoids looking at you, and you return the courtesy. He gets to the door right before you do, stooping down to pick up his back. Both of you wave goodbye to your director before stepping out into the hallway. 

“When should we meet to talk about the planning and shit?” You ask, keeping your tone as steady as possible, though you know your eyes tell your feelings. Donghyuck rolls his eyes outright. 

“How about we figure that out in class? I’ve talked to you enough for the time being.”

You make a sound of disbelief, flipping him off as he turns to walk away from you. 

“You’re a grade A dickwad!” You call, staring at his back. 

“Whatever, you frigid bitch!” He yells back, not bothering to turn around and look at you. 

You sigh once he’s out of sight, dropping your head into one of your hands.

This is going to be a lot harder than Mr. Moon thinks it’ll be.

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Reader: October 24 - Maze

This one went really long

-

“Hurry up!” Stacy, your roommate called. “We're going to be late.”

You rolled your eyes and returned to applying the last of your exaggerated makeup, completing your Cleopatra features. “I'm going, I'm going.” You called back, moving from the bathroom and back into your room where you pulled the costume from its plastic bag and carefully unfolded it. Slipping it over your head, you slid it down your body as quickly as you could, mindful of the flimsy fabric and how cheap it had been at the Halloween store, one of the last available options.

One last passing glance in the mirror, a fluff of your wig, a quick nod, and smile, and you headed down to the waiting car.

Stacy snorted and shook her head when she saw you, “Is that really call you could find?”

“What?” You replied, fastening the golden sandals that strapped halfway up your knees, already buckled into the seat.

Stacy had definitely put more effort into her costume than you had: a zombie with realistic blood makeup and even some prosthetics on her face for a ripped out cheek and a blind eye. “You really went all out.” She rolled her eyes, once more focusing on the road.

“I've been busy studying! I almost didn't go tonight.”

“Ya I know.” Stacy shoved your shoulder, turning the car at a stop sign, “I swear if they didn't promise extra credit for dressing up and attending this, you wouldn't have gone.”

“I wouldn't have. There's a test in four days, I could get a lot of time studying in if I didn't go tonight. And besides, I have homework in other classes that I could be working on.”

“You and I both know that you've finished it.”

“I had to take time off work for this.” You added.

Stacy rolled her eyes again, grumbling under her breath.

Stacy's parent's may have paid her way fully through college and not expected a dime in return but you had debts. You were hoping to graduate magna cum laude at least, if you could manage better, you knew it would look a lot nicer on future resumes. A political science major wasn't the most competitive of job markets but you knew it was what you wanted to do. And you knew tonight's Halloween party would look good if you attended, despite the monetary loss at not working.

The car rolled to a stop behind a long line of over cars parked at the end of a long driveway. In the distance you could see an old Victorian manor, more of a mansion than a house.

“That tenure pays well, huh.” Stacy muttered as you shut the door and walked over beside her.

You whistled softly. “No kidding...”

The two of you made the long trek towards the house, the many windows decorated with spooky decorations and some of the upstairs windows had flashing lights as though there were fires alight in them. Giant cobwebs littered the lawn with hordes of skeletons and spiders stalking towards the house.

You and Stacy climbed up the front stoop, a large wrap around front porch that disappeared onto each side of the house and you reached to ring the doorbell, stopping when you saw a sign that read, “Enter if you dare.”

You glanced at Stacy.

Stacy shook her head, “Guess it's open invitation.” She took the handle and turned it, unsurprised to find it unlocked, and stepped inside.

Boisterous noise blasted out at you, interrupting the relative silence that you had just been in, as long as a wave of warm air; you realized how chilly it had been outside as you stepped in finally warming up and gaining feeling in your fingers and toes again. The sandals you wore were not ideal for the cool fall weather.

The head of the department came over with two glasses of punch and a twinkle in his eyes, “Ahh two of my favorite students, I'm so glad you could make it. I'll be sure to put your names down in the guest book. Welcome, welcome.” He pushed the punch into your hands.

“Hey Professor J.” Stacy said with a wide grin.

“Professor Johnson.” You inclined your head, holding up the punch glass and taking a sip.

“Please tonight I'm Jeff. Well,” The professor held up the traces of bandages he had wrapped around himself, “I'm more of a mummy if you will, but you can call me Jeff.”

You snorted, he still wore his tweed jacket and brown dress pants but had attempted to wrap what looked like a little bit of toilet paper around his head and torso and age it with some tan paint. At least attempt is all the costumes would be counted for you figured.

Stacy mumbled into her glass, “Nice mummy.”

Jeff looked between the two of you, “My now, so who are you supposed to be, hmm, let me guess. I think we have a zombie and hmm... is that Cleopatra?”

You pointed your finger at him, with a smile, “That's the one.”

Jeff grinned, a teasing look on his face. “Well there's a roman you'll have to keep an eye out for. He never said who exactly he was, but I could see him being a fine Mark Antony. Did you do that on purpose?”

You felt a flush rise to your cheeks. “What, I, no? I didn't know anyone was dressed like this, I just chose this costume because it was cute and well available...” You trailed off lamely.

Jeff clapped his hands together, “Right-o, the drama unfolds. This is the sort of thing you would expect in the drama department, not the poli-sci. But Cleopatra and Mark Antony did play at politics. I won't keep you, please mingle and there is a haunted maze that leads to the mother-in-law house out back. We hired some theater students to keep it nice and scary for anyone who tries to complete it.” The front door opened again, “I have to go greet some other students, Jason, Richard, hello! I'm so glad you two could come!” The professor turned away to grab more punch and his focus was lost from you and Stacy.

“I wonder who your mystery Roman is.” Stacy said, grabbing your arm and dragging you towards the main room.

Different groups of people were smattered here and there in bunches of friends or otherwise groups of people who knew each other, chatting, gossiping, just generally getting along. Stacy moved from group to group, checking in with different acquaintances and friends. Sometimes she would stand for a few minutes, other times longer. All the while, you kept craning your head around, trying to find who the mysterious Roman was.

“Hey, I think I see a Roman.” Stacy said, moving towards another group.

You perked up, growing tired of mingling with people. You had never been the most social of butterflies.

Your mouth fell open as he turned around. “Loki?”

The Roman looked to see who had said his name and he stared down at you. For a moment, with the makeup and wig, he didn't seem to recognize you, then he saw your eyes and realization dawned on him. “No...” He breathed your name softly.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“You're Mark Antony?”

Loki cleared his throat, “Not exactly.”

“How did you know I would be Cleopatra?”

One of your good friends from an English class hurried over, having left a group of friends who were all gawking at the two of you, “So are you two finally dating?”

Your faced flushed, you could feel it burning down to your chest, as you crossed your arms and sputtered, “Well, I mean, I wouldn't say, I, um.”

Loki cleared his throat, his face tinged pink, “No, not, I mean, maybe, no,” He coughed.

You and Loki looked at each other then quickly looked away.

Your friend looked at the two of you and hurried off to report back to the others.

You slumped your shoulders and glanced up at Loki, he looked down at you.

“I had no idea you were going as Cleopatra.” Loki muttered.

“I didn't know you were going as-”

Loki interrupted you, “The easiest and least amount of effort I could think of, a Roman, everyone decided I was Mark Antony when the rumor that Cleopatra was going to be here, and that she was you.”

“Stacy.” You grumbled.

Loki sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

An undergrad walked by and casually said, “Nice couples' costume, loved that movie.”

Loki had been your best friend since you started college and declared your political science major. He was double majoring in political science and astrophysics, with a minor in history. How he was maintaining his grades so well and not looking like the walking dead, was beyond you. You expected having rich parents helped, but still, you admired that he was able to maintain a double major. He was quietly wealthy, never flaunted it and strove to work hard for himself, you could tell he earned what was his, he had fought for his place in this world. You knew of his golden brother, whom he spoke bitterly of that things always seem to come to him, seemed to be handed to. You understood that. The two of you had quickly bonded and had grown quite close over the years, being near constant companions, helped along by the fact that you had many classes together. Also, you studied a lot together. Things you struggled in, he was helpful at teaching you, and things he struggled in, well even if you didn't understand astrophysics, you could slow him down and get him to think it through until he could work it out. And sometimes, you did understand it, you could see the missing piece that he wouldn't see and connect it for him. You figured if you were in the class learning the subject, you just might do well, and he often praised you for it. It made you feel good.

Rumors had sprung up, a will they won't they type thing. You had heard of them vaguely, but never paid much stock. But now tonight, it seemed as though finally, like a wall, they were hitting you. And as you glanced up at Loki, his hair slicked back, feathered down to his shoulders, Roman helmet held under one arm, his tall pale forehead, green eyes staring down at you, sharp cheekbones, thin nose, sharp angular jaw, and thin pale lips... maybe, just maybe there was something to the rumors.

“There's an apple bobbing trough.” You croaked, weakly, “Want to?” You mimed bobbing for apples.

Loki nodded quickly, “Yes, certainly, let's.”

You took his hand, a normal enough gesture, but tonight it felt electrical. Glancing down then back at him, you wondered if he felt it too. His eyes lingered on your hand before looking up and making contact with yours, lingering a second too long. You forced yourself to look forward dragging him towards the trough and biting your lip as you walked.

“Alright.” You said, kneeling down before the trough, “I'll go first?”

Loki nodded, “I'll hold your hair.”

You nodded stiffly, inhaling as you turned to face the trough. The feel of Loki's fingers brush along the back of your neck nearly elicited a moan and you immediately plunged your face into the trough, thankful for waterproof makeup. Loki kept his fingers painstakingly still, not daring to touch your skin and it took everything you had not to gasp and drown. Eventually you managed to grab an apple, biting into it and pulling up out of the water, gasping for air. You beamed, chest heaving as you held the apple out before taking a mighty bite.

Loki chuckled, “Very well, my turn.” He knelt down before the trough and glanced back at you, and you realized you were to hold his hair back. Swallowing hard, you stepped close to him, gently grabbing his hair into a bundle and holding it back. It felt heavenly and once again that electrical touch when your had brushed against the base of his neck; you bit your lip.

Loki resurfaced, an apple of his own in his mouth. He took the apple lazily and bit a chunk out of it.

“Touche.” You looked around, “I've talked with everyone I've felt like talking to tonight...”

“As have I.” Loki agreed looking around.

“There's a dance floor, but the music isn't...”

“Johnson's music taste not up to your standard?”

“I like spooky Halloween hits but I think he could stand to change the CD now, has anyone introduced him to like, Spotify, or the internet?”

Loki laughed, and grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the dance area, “The Monster Mash is indeed timeless.”

“I don't doubt it but after the fourth or fifth time.” You laughed back, dancing with him.

You and Loki danced for a little while, listening to the music that Jeff had picked out, though really wishing for some variety.

Finally the music grating on your nerves, you remembered the promise of the haunted house outside. The two of you made your way towards the back door, winding your way through the house, occasionally chatting with other people who had made it to other rooms while exploring the house. There were a series of signs pointing in the direction of the haunted house and you found yourself appreciating them because it would have taken much longer to reach it.

At last you reached the back door and opened it, stepping into a blow up tunnel that blocked you from the chilly wind.

You and Loki exchanged a glance, “I guess it starts here.” He said.

“I guess so.” You replied.”

You both stepped into the blowup tunnel and bounced along, fighting to keep your balance as ghostly cries filled the air. The back door of the house shut and blocking off the music and conversation of the house within. Ghostly wails filled the air, frankly more comedic than scary, given the nature of the bouncy tunnel, but you worked with what you had.

Reaching the end, the tunnel spat you out and you and Loki collapsed onto the grassy ground, a small maze of chain link fences leading to the mother-in-law suite. In different places, there was black paper so you couldn't see through the chain link. Flashing strobe lights filled the air and a fog machine summoned heavy layers of fog. Loud disorienting metal music screamed out at you, blaring in your ears, so loud you could barely think.

“Get up!” Loki yelled over the cacophony, offering his hand to you and pulling you to your feet.

You scrunched your eyes shut, the strobe lights making your head hurt. Trying to squint and look around, you held tight to Loki's eyes as he led you through the maze.

A gorilla leapt out at you from one of the chain link enclosures, screaming and shaking the fence. You rounded another turn and a guy in stripes shoved his face at you, laughing maniacally, tugging at bendable rubber bars.

Then just as quickly, you were out of the chain link maze and Loki opened the door to the house.

You blinked several times, trying to get rid of the strobe lights, and adjust your eyes to the darkness.

“Damn those lights.” Loki muttered.

You smacked your head a few times, as though hoping to get the flashing and noise out, “No kidding, thanks for leading us.”

Loki nodded, looking back at you with concern, “Are you alright?”

“Just a little, fuzzed up. I'll be fine.”

Loki wrapped his arm around your shoulder and held you close, once more taking the lead.

The two of you walked into the kitchen, a bloody crime scene had occurred, someone had been murdered and dismembered. A women lay on the ground pleading for help. “He's going to come back, please... please, you've got to help me.” She groaned.

Loki kept walking.

You looked at her fearfully.

“He's coming!” The bloody woman cried.

A man with a chainsaw came running from behind you and you screamed, running ahead.

“No, don't!” Loki cried, rushing after you.

You ran into the next room where a contortionist was rolling around on the floor, body twisted into all sorts of unnatural shapes. Stopping you moaned weakly, looking as they uncoiled and began to crawl upside down towards you.

Loki finally reached you and guided you away from them, on to the next room.

From behind you, you could hear the cackles of the contortionist filling the air.

The two of you passed through a long hallway and a zombie bride walked out, dress bloodied and torn, “Have you seen my husband?”

“N-no.” You stammered.

“Good, I ate him!” She jeered.

Loki continued to guide you, the next room had eerie green lights and was filled floor to ceiling with all manner of dolls, old and new, porcelain and cloth, cracked and torn and well cared for.

“I never much cared for dolls.” Loki muttered.

“Dolls are freaky, period.”

An especially large doll in the corner slowly started to stand, her porcelain face slowly contorting into a look of rage. You and Loki screamed, you clung to his chest and Loki wrapped his arms around you protectively. Behind you the chainsaw man appeared and screamed, “GET OUT NOW!”

A door opened and you and Loki ran for the door, Loki almost carrying you, as you exited to the outside.

There was a small shed type building with a creepy clown holding water laughing and giggling, “Congratulations, you survived.” He said in a singsong voice. “Do you want a picture, I won't take a no.”

“Wha-?” You panted for breath, doubled over.

Loki looked between you and the clown and took the water suspiciously before drinking it.

The clown danced over to the table where a single printer sat. He waggled his fingers until a picture slowly finished printing. “Here you are now!” Once again he giggled in a disturbing voice and you realized he was part of the haunted house attraction.

Taking the picture from him, Loki sighed and rolled his eyes, “Here.” He handed it to you.

It was the final scare, Loki holding you protectively in his arms as you clung to him fearfully. If anyone saw this there would be no denying how you two really felt for each other.

The clown honked his nose as he looked between the two of you, an obnoxious grin on his face.

“Well that's some damning evidence.” You muttered, taking a sip of your water.

Loki chuckled, adjusting his cape.

“Can I catch a ride with you?” You asked.

“You're fine with it?”

“Are you?”

“Extremely.”

“Yea, me too.” You stood on your toes and kissed his cheek. “I'm more than fine with it.”

[dyketectivecomics]

tell us about the roller derby AU!! <3

(tysm anon bc this got me to get my ass in gear abt actually writing it all down fdskl;fjla ALSO shout out to zom for leaving a reply <3 ty both omg)

OKAY, first things first. This started bc I was thinking abt the Sirens doing Derby together (OBVIOUSLY Harleys idea) BUT 3 players isn’t enough for a team (you need 3 blockers, a pivot and a jammer afterall) so this team HINGES on the fact that GCS had that brief team-up with Talia and Zatanna and the pure Chaos of them permanently joining the sirens in the mainverse is something I want to explore sometime in the future but ANYWAYS they also need a team to play against and I’m Nothing if not Consistent so OFC this is Sirens vs Birds

cue Same Age-Range College Setting, Roller Derby Focus AU. Everyone’s attending Uni at Gotham State and yes I have majors in mind too, for the Sirens we got undergrads Harley: Psych, Ivy: Botany, Selina: Art History, Talia: Anthropology, Zatanna: Theater. For the Birds, (grad student she’s fast-tracking) Babs: library science, (undergrads) Dinah: Music, Helena: Undeclared, Zinda: doesn’t actually Go Here lmao

now u might be saying “wait a min randy, that’s only four birds. DIDNT u JUST say u need 5 players for a team?” And yes. Yes I did. The Birds is actually a BIGGER team than the Sirens and includes anyone who has ever been on the BoP team ever. They’re all here! And there’s a lot of them that rotate in and out of the roster but for the sake of simplicity we’ll focus on those four as Main members.

So let’s talk positions, play style & other stuff!

so Harley is the Jammer, don’t fix what isn’t broken. I like the idea of Talia being the Pivot bc ofc she’d want to be in charge. Which leaves Ivy, Selina & Zee as the blockers

 YES Selina plays damn near as dirty as Harley does lmao. In fact if we rank them by how often they play Renegade vs Regulation, you’ve got, Harley, Selina, Talia, Ivy (all at varying degrees of being FAR at the renegade-end of the spectrum) and Zee is more like just Right of center in favor of Regulation (but not above elbowing an opponent or ‘accidentally’ tripping them up if they’re REALLY close to winning) 

Derby names MOSTLY follow their costumed personas, like Poison Ivy and Catwoman, but then there’s also Gnarley Quinn (currently taking suggestions for Zee n Talia tho bc... well they DONT have names other than their own really lmao)

For the Birds, Zinda is the Jammer, Dinah is the pivot, Helena is a blocker, Babs is actually the team manager & former pivot. Harley gave her a BAD injury during an end-of-season bout and kicks off the rivalry btwn the teams at the start of the plot. (Other birds in the rotation play blockers and jammers as needed. Helena will step up as pivot if Dinah can’t make a bout)

All the Birds PRACTICE regulation derby but....  well, when you put on your skates and the ref blows the whistle, what happens next can’t be helped (but esp after babs’ injury if its a Sirens vs Birds bout they’re out for BLOOD)

Yes their derby names are the same as their hero names, and yes ppl still call Babs Oracle even tho she doesn’t put on the skates as much even after her knee heals

Outfits and Skates:

okay, so OBVSLY zee & dinah are still VERY much the Fishnet Queens™, but i can totally see Harley, Selina & Zinda joining them. can’t have derby w/o SOME ppl wearing fishnets after all fjldka;s

also i know that derby’s sometimes a bit more butch and some ppl take issue with Zinda’s miniskirt but listen i am GAY and a SUCKER for vintage inspired looks and really? skirts and skates go hand in hand BEAUTIFULLY. the skirt STAYS for zinda

actually im a sucker for bombshells!Ivy’s dresses too, i know the big fandom push has been towards making her more butch but LISTEN.

wait, do i actually just want to see Bombshells on skates is that what all this is about. im gonna scre-

everyone else’s looks im still trying to figure out in my own brain but tbh, any artists out there who feel like doing their own spin on superhero inspired looks for these guys im *eyes emojis* would LOVE to see that actually would love to see that A LOT

imagine everyone color-coding their wheels, though, omg i need that

outside of derby i think Harley & Dinah would be rlly into jam/rhythm skating, Zee, Selina & Talia would like artistic skating, and Helena & Zinda would be into speed skating. Ivy and Babs like supporting their friends & esp their gfs but actually they’re trying rlly hard not to show them up bc theyre both pretty good at jam/rhythm themselves fjdkls

Now for the Extra Relationship Stuff:

Obvsly almost all of the sirens have dated each other at some point. Whether in the past or over the course of going to uni together. Cue even More Drama when Talia and Selina break up and Both start pursuing soon-to-be-drop-out Bruce (the dropping out is unrelated to the drama itself but I just think it’s funny if even in an AU setting Bruce drops out of college aksjak)

also listen ever since i read those GCS issues with Talia and Zee I’ve NEEDED to see Selina/Talia/Zee so so so badly. its my AU and its happening some fucking how i’ll make it work shut uppppp

Also I’m gonna throw in some real slowburn HarlIvy bc once again it’s MY AU AND I DO WHAT I WANT.

Yes Dinah and Zee become star-crossed/rival-to-lovers in this. Havent actually decided which way I wanna go bc starcrossed is Fun, but rivals gives me DRAMA and with them both being diff arts majors could Add to that aksj

the Birds marginally have their dynamics together better than the Sirens, but every so often there’s some communication issues bc yes, we need all the Drama in this!!! I demand it!!!

So yeah, if/when I ever plot this out, it would be something with equal focus on changing relationship and team dynamics, and then focus on how well each of the teams are doing leading up to the Big Bout where the Birds are out to Avenge Oracle. And do they succeed? I guess you’d have to read to find out lmao

Coming to a fanfic site near you...... eventually.......

[tsarinastorm]

Season 7-Adam Sackler/Reader-Chapter 1

This is mostly a Sackler/Reader centric fic, but this is the development I would have liked to see in a Girls Season 7.

Words:3.9K

Rating: Explicit/Mature

               You haven’t even arrived at this “party” yet and you already regret agreeing to show up. You begin to think of an excuse: you have a migraine, you have a writing deadline, some other dire situation that requires your immediate attention has occurred. Before you’re able to settle on one excuse, you receive a text from Hannah telling you that the party is in the back room of the bar, and saying that she’s so excited that you’re going to meet her friends.

               You had met Hannah in a writing group, the two of you bonded over the shared habit of bringing snacks to the meetings, to the annoyance of the other group members. She was one of your first and only friends in the city. You have some friends from undergrad and grad school who live in the city, but they were often busy with their own careers and love lives. You couldn’t help but find meeting people in this city of 8 million to be overwhelming. Mostly, you didn’t know how you make real friendships with people who you’d only see occasionally, or where to find people who shared your interests and hobbies.

               You moved to the city six months ago and settled into a classic style apartment in Soho. The apartment was a little bigger than you needed but was a steal because it was being sold by a couple who was in the middle of a divorce and wanted to screw the other over. You’ve authored several books ranging from modern fiction, horror, and a crime/thriller series, which had recently been picked up by a streaming service for a television show. You made enough to make it in New York, but you did some ghostwriting on the side to supplement since you invested your earnings in the apartment. You didn’t feel like you belonged in New York yet, perhaps you’ll be always be the same small town girl no matter how long you’re in the city.

You talked yourself into going to the party because you needed more friends and needed to enjoy the city. Plus, it was to celebrate Hannah’s new article being published. As a fellow writer you understood the struggles to get published and the triumph when you finally do get published. So you put on a little black dress that was neither too dressy nor too casual, told her you’d be there in a few minutes, and headed on the train to Brooklyn. You then grab a cab and head towards Hannah’s party.

               Your cab pulls up around the front, and you make your way into the bar. You’ve figured out that if you feel uncomfortable, you can get a few free drinks and then head out, no big deal. There are signs that point towards the Horvath Party, you casually walk, following the signs until you see Hannah in one of the rooms. Hannah waves and motions for you come towards her.

“Hey, Y/N! I’m so happy you could make it! I’m sure you’ll have a great time and I know you’ll get along with my friends.”

“Thanks for inviting me, Hannah. Congrats again on getting your piece published. It’s always worth the work in the end. Where’s Grover?” You ask as you see several people coming up to you and Hannah. Hannah answers as she hugs an excited brunette who just walked in, “Grover is with the sitter tonight. His Mommy needed a break. But I am texting every half-hour to make sure he’s alright.”

“You deserve a night off, I’m sure he’ll be just fine.” You say as the brunette turns to you. Hannah gestures between the two of you and the other girl as she begins the introductions.

“Y/N, this is my friend Shoshanna, or Shosh for short. Shosh, this is Y/N, the friend I told you about from my writing group.”

               Shosh hugs you and says, “Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Hannah has told us so much about you and I’ve read you’re books. They’re good, like, really good. I don’t even typically like horror, but I liked yours.”

“Thank you so much! I’ve heard a lot about you too! I love your outfit.”

“The code word is apple for free drinks. But keep it quiet so people don’t take our free drinks. We didn’t pay for everyone.” Hannah adds as she goes to greet another person.

               You and Shosh have spent the last forty-minutes talking about fashion, and travel. Now she was happily giving you the “appropriate” details of her honeymoon. Shosh was super nice and easy to talk to, no wonder she had been friends with Hannah for so long.  When you came back from the bar with your vodka soda, Hannah was talking to another brunette, one less excited than Shosh.

“Marnie, this is Y/N from my writing group. Y/N this is my best friend Marnie.”

“You’re the successful singer/song-writer, right?”

“Yes, only somewhat successful, but yes. By the way, I love your dress, Y/N!”

“I think its super cool that you can sing and put words to music. I have no musical talent whatsoever.”

“Really? You’re such a good writer. How long have you been in the city?”

“Only six months so I’m still figuring it all out.”

“We can totally show you where the best places are, and what to do.” Shosh adds excitedly.

“We should all hang out together sometime. We’re all young, attractive, successful women who should support each other.” Marnie says as she begins telling you the best places to shop, to eat, and to hang out.

“I appreciate it, thank you. I definitely we should hang out. Do you guys ever do brunch?”

“Yeah, I know this place that has the best mimosas.” Marnie says, then Shosh quickly adds, “We should totally go tomorrow morning, you know to help us recover from tonight.”

“Tomorrow would work for me.”

“I’m making the reservation now.” Marnie says while she types into her phone.

“That sounds great, I’m looking forward to it.  Who can turn down a good mimosa,” You say as you notice a very attractive man walk into the room, while the trio of friends continue to chatter amongst themselves. He’s tall with dark, wavy hair and broad shoulders. You immediately lock eyes with him, and smile, he smiles back. You then realize that you’ve totally zoned out of the conversation and finished your drink in record time. So much for playing it cool.

“I need another drink, I’ll be back.”

               ***********************************************************************

               Adam makes his way into the room. He doesn’t know why he’s even there. He and Hannah have been over for some time, and yeah, they were “friends” but why was here when he can’t stand her other friends. He had changed so much since the last time he was subjected to Hannah’s friends, would it be different this time? At least this time, he was free of Jessa that should keep the rest of them from being too hostile. And now, he had a successful run in a production of Machination at St. Anne’s, which lead to the casting director giving him the lead in an adaptation of The Beautiful and The Damned. He had a number of auditions coming up, even a few for Broadway again. He also has a theater friend who wants to turn his short film into a stage play. For the first time in a long time, his life was coming together not falling apart. Except for his love life, as always. He had ended the romantic relationship with Jessa not long after returning to her after being rejected by Hannah. He realized he was looking for something more, something he hadn’t had with Jessa, and something he hadn’t had with Hannah either. But Jessa still comes around, she seems determined not to let him go. So he lets Jessa stay sometimes, because she is a good fuck and he doesn’t have time to find another fuck buddy.

               Then he sees her. She’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, and she looks amazing in that little black dress. Though he’s sure she’d look even better out of that little black dress. Down boy, he thinks to himself, he has to save that for later. But now, be cool. Her eyes lock with his, and she smiles at him. He can’t help but smile back.

“Hey Adam! Good to see you here,” Adam turns and sees the voice behind the comment that takes him out of his trance. It’s Ray and he’s definitely looking at her too. Adam doesn’t like the idea of Ray talking to his woman, or looking at his woman, even if she’s not his woman yet. She will be, he’ll see to that.

“Hey Ray, nice to see you too,” Adam manages to sound normal, not too eager or irritated. He looks for her again, but she’s gone. Oh no, she couldn’t have left yet. Not before he had got her number. He’s so desperate in his search for her, that he doesn’t even notice that Ray’s walked away and Hannah has come up beside him.

“I’m so glad you could make it,” Hannah says as she pulls him into an awkward hug. He hugs her back but his eyes still look through the room for his woman. Then he spots her, over at the bar. Now, he just has to get over to her.

“So this is none of my business, but are you and Jessa still a thing?” Of course, Hannah goes straight to the question he doesn’t want to answer, and takes the conversation straight to the person he’d prefer not to think about. He finally answers in the best way he knows how.

“There is no relationship but we still sometimes see each other.”

“You still see each other. I’m not stupid, I know what that means, and it means you still fuck.” Hannah puts her hands on her hips, clearly judging him before continuing, “Does that make you happy? Because believe it or not, you deserve to be happy too.”

               He keeps his eyes on her, his her. Hannah’s talking again before her previous statement has a chance to really sink in.

“By the way, that woman you’re ogling is Y/N, my friend from my writing group. She’s a writer like me. But a very successful one. You should go talk to her. I can’t guarantee that you’re her type, or that she won’t throw her drink on you, but go for it.”

“Really? You sure? She is your friend.” Adam says even though his mind is already made up. He is going to talk to her whether Hannah accepts it or not. But it would be better if Hannah does accept it. He doesn’t want another cold war like the one that happened when he and Jessa hooked up.

“I’m sure. I think she’d be good for you, and that you two might work.” Hannah says and gives him a genuine smile. She then pushes him in the direction of the bar.

                  You order a Malibu Bay Breeze, made up of Malibu rum, cranberry juice, and pineapple juice. Normally that’s the drink you prefer but the vodka soda is slightly better to stave off dehydration and hangover. But now, you feel nervous because you see him make his way towards you and you need the comfort of your favorite drink. He sits down beside you and you turn to look at him.

“Hello, stranger. You know when I’m in a place like this, I can’t help but I feel like I’m in a bad, modern adaptation of a Fitzgerald novel. I’m Y/N”

“Hello beautiful stranger, I’m Adam. I agree, I feel like that at least once a day since I’ve been in New York. But I do find it to be missing Fitzgerald’s wit and introspection. I was worried you managed to sneak out before I got to talk to you.”

“I’m glad you understood the reference, you’d be amazed at the number of people who don’t. Most of them look at me like I have three heads. I’m not going anywhere for a while, I just made my way over to the bar. Do you want a drink? If you’re nice, maybe it’ll even be on me.”

“A seltzer water. I have a degree in comp lit and I’m actor who does mostly stage so I have to understand literary comments. I actually just finished a part in an adaptation of The Beautiful and the Damned”

“Ha, well you know what they say about actors. I’m a writer. Okay, now I have a question: if you could work with any playwright, living or dead, who would it be?” You ask him with a smile on your face. You’re can’t hide your genuine curiosity. He seems like an intellectual guy, well-read, artistic, and clearly a bit offbeat. Those things make you to know his answer.

“Chekhov, he was a truly master of theater. Or Arthur Miller.” He says, confidently taking a swig of his seltzer water, “does that answer suit you?”

“It does. I prefer the Russian greats.  So how do you know Hannah?”

“I’ve known Hannah for years. What about you?” he says the last part in a singsong voice. You can’t help but laugh at his goofy behavior.

“Hannah and I are in the same writing group. She’s one of the first friends I’ve made in the city.”

               You spend the next hour or so (maybe it was longer, you lost track of time) talking about your favorite writers, movies, and awkward moments. Turns out, you have pretty much the same taste in books and film, and you find your eyes tearing up from laughter at some of his stories. His stories are accompanied by full body movements and voice changes, of course. Adam talks about his family, you learn he has a niece that he calls Sample because she’s sample-sized and she was named after his exes. He teases you for being an only child. You can’t remember the last time you enjoyed someone’s company this much. He was interesting, intense, and slightly strange. Nothing at all like your type, and maybe that’s why you liked him. Or maybe it was because you felt he’d give the deep connection and passion you’d always craved. You notice he’s still only drinking seltzer, and you’re on your fourth drink.

“Are you sure you don’t want a real drink? Or are you being a DD?”

“I actually don’t drink. I’ve had a drinking problem in the past so I completely avoid it, and I still go to AA.”

“I’m glad you saw you had a problem and got help. That’s a hard thing to do.” You tell him as you reach out and gently put your hand on his forearm. He looks deep into your eyes, and leans into your touch.

“How long have you been sober?”

“10 years. I started going to AA when I was seventeen.” He says and his rich amber eyes look sad. He looks like he expects you to reject him.

“Well, I’m sorry that it started so early. If you ever need somebody to talk to, here, I’ll give you my number” you say and hold out your hand for his phone. He places it in your hand and he chuckles.

“I am the worst person with technology and shit. I’m not the same over the phone. It took me so fucking long to even get an iphone.”

“That’s okay. You’re probably better off without it anyway.” You smile and he smiles back. He puts his hand on your knee. You notice that 1.) his hand is freaking huge, so that means his dick must be big too, and 2.) You really like him touching you, his hand is hot on your cool skin. You feel a physical spark in your lower stomach that you haven’t felt in a long time: pure sexual attraction. You think you could easily take him home tonight, actually that looks like that’s where this is headed. He leans in towards your face, you can’t tell if he’s going to whisper something in your ear, or if he’s going to kiss you. You feel yourself leaning in, drawn like a moth to the light.

               The moment is ruined when a blonde woman throws her arms around his neck, kisses him on the cheek, and positions herself so she’s practically sitting in his lap. She turns to look at you, and you know you must look shocked because it takes you a minute to acknowledge that she’s even speaking. And you notice that she has a British accent.

“Adam, who’s your friend?” She says in a voice that must be her attempt to be sultry. Adam looks uncomfortable and shifts so she’s no longer in his lap, and he’s not even touching her.

“This is Y/N. She’s an author, a good author who’s wrote bestsellers.”

“I’m Jessa, are you friends with Hannah?” the British blonde asks you and you find her gaze very uncomfortable. You take a sip of your drink before answering.

“Yes, I know her from my writing group.”

“Well then, you should know all about me and Adam. He’s the ex, and I’m the friend who stole him. We’re also the ones who made the movie. I’m sure she’s wrote a lot about us.” Jessa says all of that with a smug smile, clearly proud of the mess she’s just created.

“Oh you’re the Adam? The Adam who moved in another girlfriend while she was in Iowa, who dated her friend, didn’t tell her, and then made a movie basically mocking your relationship?!” You practically yell. What the hell is wrong with these people? Why are they all still around each other?

“That’s him. And that’s us.” Jessa says as she nods. You see red. What they did to Hannah was wrong, and here they are acting like it’s nothing. Jessa’s proud of it. And Adam lied to you about who he was knowing you were a friend of Hannah’s. You had a friend who hooked up with your ex, and it stung. Badly. And that was only a one-time hook up, you could only imagine if it had been a full-fledged relationship.

“Where I come from, you tell people the truth, so I’m going to tell you both the truth. You’re both shitty people for doing that to Hannah and acting like it’s nothing.” You say before grabbing your bag and standing up.

“And I hope I never see either of you again. You must deserve each other.”

               Whatever you had felt towards Adam a few minutes ago had utterly dissipated now. You could never be with someone who did all of that to his ex. If he did it to Hannah, he’d likely do it to you, you remind yourself. Additionally, Hannah was your friend, maybe not a best friend, but still a friend and you refused to do that to her. You storm off from the bar, hopefully to find someone who also thinks this situation makes zero sense. You see Shosh and Marnie standing near the stage and you join them. Marnie speaks first,

“I see you had a great conversation with our local gruesome twosome.”

“That may be one of the most fucked up experiences of my life. Or am I crazy?” You say trying to figure out if you’re over-reacting or not.

“No, that is a totally weird situation.” Shosh says and it makes you feel better.

Then you see a man at the bar who looks familiar, it takes a second for you to recognize him. You can feel the blood run from your face. You realize he’s a guy you hooked up with when you first moved to New York. What was his name? You were so intoxicated that night, you can’t even remember his name, only that it started with a B, and you would have preferred him to remain one of your secrets. Especially when you think of everything that happened a few weeks after the hookup. You watch him even though you don’t want to, and you notice that he is wearing a wedding band. That’s just great. He’s married. You hooked up with a married man, or at the very least he would have had to be engaged then.  You feel your face getting hot, and you go outside to get some air. You bump into Hannah.

“Y/N? Are you alright? You looked really freaked out?”

“Yeah, it’s just I ran into one of my drunk one-night-stands. And he’s married. It just really bothers me.”

“Well, it’s okay. You’ll probably never see him again. It’s not your fault, you didn’t know he was married.” Hannah says while rubbing your arms in an effort to calm you. You give her a hug and you head home.

You see Adam and Jessa in the street fighting about something and you turn your head so you can get away without either of them noticing you.

********************************************************************************

You go to brunch with Hannah, Shosh, and Marnie the next day. You’d been so busy adjusting to the city, you had forgot how much you missed your girlfriends back home. The brunch was just what you needed and you learned some gossip. Hannah says that she has a date coming up. Marnie makes it clear after her track record, she’s happy being single for a while. Shosh, of course, gushes over her husband. You even meet Ray, who owns a local coffee place. However, then you’re filled in on his background with Shosh and Marnie. You were finally feeling like you had now friends in the city, and you were pleased with that. But you couldn’t stop thinking Adam, even though you knew you shouldn’t

You’re back in your apartment, looking for something to do. You then decide to look up Adam Sackler. You scroll through the glowing reviews of his latest plays. Then you come across the movie, Disclosure. You debate whether or not to watch it. You give into your curiosity after a few minutes of debate, and hit play. You watch Adam, the real Adam not an actor playing Adam, spank the actress. Again and again. You should not find it as hot as you do. You can feel yourself getting turned on. You should turn off the movie, and go for a run to clear your mind or a cold shower.

But you give in to your body as your hand sneaks into your pants. Your fingers part your folds before settling on your clit. You begin rubbing in circles. That’s not enough, you need it faster, harder. You start adding more pressure and quicken your pace. You start to imagine that your hands are Adam’s hands. It’s not long before you feel your climax building. You moan as you come hard.

When you come back to reality, you realize that you should feel guilty for touching yourself to a movie starring your friend’s ex-boyfriend about their relationship. However, you manage console yourself by reminding yourself that you can touch yourself as long as you don’t cross the physical line with Adam himself, though you know you’ll dream about him touching you tonight.

[toomanysurveys9]

Do you take lessons for anything? No. Although I’m in grad school for marriage and family therapy. So that’s kind of like lessons. Lol.

Has something really heavy ever fallen on you? Not really, no.

If you wear makeup, what colors do you usually wear? I usually use natural colors.

Does your shower have curtains or a glass door/wall? It has a curtain.

If you have more than one pet, do they ever get jealous of each other? I have so many pets, and Phe and Cocoa do occasionally get jealous.

Is there a room in your house that you don’t like going in? Not a room, exactly, but I hate our basement.

Do you remember the last question you were asked? What did you answer? Just the one I just answered here.

Besides salt and butter, do you put anything on your popcorn? Jalapeno powder stuff they have at our local movie theater. It’s good with the butter.

Are you lonely? I guess you could say that.

What’s your favorite magazine to read? I haven’t really read any magazines in a long time.

Do you like pineapple? I do. I used to not like it when I was a kid, but I do now.

Have you ever seen fireflies? I have!

Have you ever trespassed? Not that I can remember.

Do you tell your parents where you are going? I mean, sometimes. Sometimes I will just say I’m leaving, and leave it at that.

Do you raise your hand or participate in class? I’m doing online classes. It’s mostly reading and writing papers.

Do you like visiting the mall? Why or why not? I used to. But it’s kind of stressful these days. Although I do want to go soon for a smoothie. There’s a store in one about an hour away that has the best.

Have you ever purposely hurt an animal? No.

Would you ever see a therapist? I have before, and I would again if I needed to.

Are you afraid of heights? Yes.

Are you afraid of the dark? Not really.

Are you a jealous person? Not normally, but I can be if I think I have reason.

When is your birthday? September 1.

What are you listening to right now? The kiddos talking about ice cream.

Have you ever been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to be doing? Yeah. My mom caught us having sex once when we were 18.

Are you still friends with someone from kindergarten? Not really.

What is the most important thing to you? My kids.

Do you like whipped cream? Yeah, usually.

Are you close to your mother? Yes.

Are you close to your father? Yes, but it’s not quite the same as with my mom.

Do you walk around bare foot when you’re at home? Or do you wear socks? I am usually barefoot.

Do you like chocolate popsicles? I haven’t had them in a long time, so I couldn’t really say.

Would you ever be your school’s mascot who wears that costume? No.

Would you rather see the Great Wall of China or Big Ben? I guess Big Ben because that’s a place I really want to visit.

Have you ever written a poem? A long, long time ago. They weren’t that great.

Would you ever be a tornado chaser? NO. NO. NO. I’m too chicken.

What is your favorite thing to eat with bbq sauce, if you even like that stuff? Pulled pork sandwiches.

Your parents tell you that this summer, you get to pick the vacation. Where do you plan to go? A longer vacation to TN than what we are doing during memorial day weekend.

What do you think is a good theme for a prom? I have no idea.

Have you ever had to do a class in summer school? I didn’t have to, but I took my statistics class in undergrad during summer.

Do you get nervous when you go to the doctor? About what? Yeah. Since getting pregnant, I’m afraid of being told I lost the baby.

Have you ever been to the rainforest? I wish, but no.

Have you ever created a website? Nope.

Ever thought about writing a book? Yes. I think it would be fun but challenging.

Have you ever had a dream where you killed someone? I don’t think so.

Do you ever make up stories in your head and wish they come true? Yeah.

Which is worse: stuffy nose or runny nose? Runny nose. And it can be more painful.

Which is worse: Sick to your stomach or sore throat? I hate being nauseous, and I hate throwing up.

Do you think your last relationship was a disaster? Eh. Kind of I guess. I never should have dated him.

Have you ever solved a Rubik’s Cube? I’ve never really tried, so no..

Who do you think is the easiest to talk to? Probably Stephanie these days.

Would you consider yourself to be emo? I guess. 

Do you have a favourite metal band or do you not like metal? I don’t really listen to metal.

What is your current desktop picture? Nothing. It was my kids and then my computer did something funky and I just never fixed it.

Thick or thin blanket? Depends, but usually thicker.

Who are your favorite bands?  That’s kind of hard to answer. I don’t really know.

How do you mark through your word search puzzles? It varies from highlighter, circling, or putting a line through it.

Have you ever sewn something? I don’t think so.

What did you eat for dinner last night? Turkey sandwich.

Ever been grounded? Story of my life growing up.

Have you seen all of the Jaws movies? No.

When was the last time you played cards? (not on the computer) It’s been several months, at least.

Have you ever drank Cherry Coke? Yeah.

Have you ever had a black eye? I have.

Have you ever eaten a bug? I have not ever chosen to eat one.

Do you like pranking people? Nope.

Did you ever take a cooking class in school? I did in high school.

Do you celebrate St. Patrick’s Day? Not really. We celebrate Wyatt’s birthday. My little St. Patrick’s Day baby. :)

Do you use Skype? No. I use zoom when I have meetings with professors.

Have you ever participated in local magazine cover girl searches? Nope.

Have you ever been called a skank/slut because of the way you dress? No.

Is your ex sexually attractive to you still? He never was.

Describe the most romantic moment you’ve ever had. I honestly don’t know. Jacob isn’t exactly the romantic type.

Have you ever cheated on a test? Nope.

Have you ever been to couple’s counseling? Nope. Or... not really. We did premarital counseling with the pastor that officiated our wedding, but I don’t know that I would count that.

How often does your employer ask you to work overtime? A lot. Considering I am part-time and said a maximum of 3 full days a week. Plus she has me on one of the most aggressive kids, so that’s great. I emailed her over the weekend letting her know I was done working with him, so we will see how that conversation goes tomorrow and whether I will have a job still.

Did you often read for fun when you were a kid? YES. I have always loved to read.

When was the last time you were scared? Yesterday while watching Jacob in the night of destruction events.

What’s your favorite song by Rihanna? I don’t really know.

Can you speak binary? Nope.

Would you rather live somewhere that had hurricanes or tornadoes? I would prefer neither. Lol.

Have you ever had a pet that you disliked? Nope.

When was the last time you saw hail? A year or two ago. We are getting a new roof thanks to insurance because of it.

What is on your mind right this second: That I kind of want ice cream.

Have you ever given a nickname to your pet(s)? Yeah.

When was the last time you shaved your legs? Last week.

Do you ever try free samples at the store? Yeah.

Do you like boys with long hair? I don’t really have a preference with hair length.

Do you like root beer? Yeah.

What is the best fast food place, in your opinion? I don’t know.

Do you have faith in yourself? LOL. No.

[whatexcellentboiledpotatos]

Pride and Prejudice: Modern AU Part I: the invitation

SYNOPSIS: Elisa Benet is in her second year of her master’s degree in creative writing. As a West End actor chooses to visit the university in a scouting project, Charles Bingley, she is invited to a dinner to greet him and brings along her flatmate, Jane. However, what she does not expect, is to become acquainted by F. William Darcy; writer and director of the latest West End sensation. 

Word count: 1296

“Eli, have you heard the news!” my flatmate, Lydia, chants as she enters my room. 

“Lydia its too early, its barely seven,” I complain. Doesn’t she have the slightest sense of respect for privacy? Do they not teach that in the new curriculum?

“You must remember the play we saw last time in London, the newest West End sensation?” she asks, cheerfully opening all the blinds on my room. 

“Sure I do,” I answer as I shield my eyes from the light. “What is so exiting about it?” I swear if its not important I will throw a pillow at her. 

My flatmate turns to the door, “Oh! Jane, tell her, tell her!!”

My other flatmate, Jane, stands by the door. Out of my four flatmates, she is the one I am closest to, but at the same time, she’s the shyest of the group. 

“Well,” Jane says quietly, “Charles Bingley, the main actor, is to visit our university to deliver a couple seminars, but most importantly to scout for possible talent.”

“Isn’t that so exiting!” Lydia exclaims bubbly. “To meet a proper West End actor! What if he comes to like me? Oh, the easiest way to pay the never ending student debt!”

“You’re probably not meeting him anyways,” Mary comments as she passes by the door with some laundry at hand. Typical Mary, always too pessimistic. 

As she goes by, Lydia poked out her tongue. 

“Real classy,” I jokes, “a said Charles Bingley will love it.”

I cannot deny the news are exiting, not as if I were ever going to meet that Bingley, but having a kind-of celebrity around made things more cheerful. The past months had been torture, as I prepare my final piece of work for my masters dissertation. I was study creative writing, with the hopes of having a piece published by the end of my masters, but the clock is ticking away. I have almost finished the second year of my program, as I chose part-time so I could handle my finances better. Its all for love towards art, and my favourite part is living with my flatmates. Jane, slightly older than me, graduated in classics the year before and took upon herself to still manage the university theater club, whilst she teaches in a local school and part-timing as a seamstress. We all know her real dream is to do costume design and direct, but sometimes that kind of dream needs to be sustained by connections of name and wealth. Then we have Mary, who is still in undergrad studying music. I don’t remember how we picked her up, but oddly enough, we did. A bit antisocial, and a socially awkward many, we had adopted her as our flatmate from the beginning of our career. Lydia needs no explanation. She is currently starting her new career path, having passed by engineering to then doing drama, to finally ending up doing literature, just like I did. At this point, we don’t even care about what career she ends up in, just that she commits to one before we move out. Lastly, we have Kitty, the youngest. Being our landlady’s foreign niece, her mom thought it would be great to have her move outside problematic halls, and where better to move than with the lovely girls her sister talks so much about?? It sometimes worries me how easily Lydia can influence her, both of them being completely inseparable, but Kitty is a smart girl. 

Sometimes I wish Lydia would be that too. Not that I’m ashamed of caring for her, but sometimes, its hard work. For example; waiting for me outside my tutor’s office to inquire after Charles Bingley. 

“Mr. B!” I hear her exclaim loudly as my tutor walks me out of his office, “I heard a rumor that a Charles Bingley is around school, looking for talent!”

“Ah, miss Benson! Yes indeed, Mr Bingley will be in school for a couple weeks!” my tutor answers awkwardly. To his misfortune, he happens to have also been placed as Lydia’s tutor. I cannot count how many times he has regretted so in my presence. 

“Well you have to introduce us to him!” Lydia comments shamelessly. I pinch her elbow slightly, so she knows she is being too forthcoming. 

“I don’t think it will happen miss--”

“Well DoNt YoU LoVE to TorTUre US?” Lydia interrupts dramatically, “its such a shame.”

My tutor sighs, to whatever god: grant me patience, his eyes seem to ask. 

“Miss Benson, I am not sure what you want me to do...”

Lydia and our tutor go back and forth about the matter, making me smile, as minutes before, that very same man had given me an invitation to a formal dinner arranged for Charles Bingley. Private, only handpicked students given an invitation. The best part? I was given two. One for me, and one for Jane. It was her shot. 

--

“Lydia is never going to forgive you, you know?” Jane comments as we walk into the building. 

“Oh I am sure she won’t,” I say with a smile, “be prepared to be questioned on all the specifics, even at what time Mr Bingley excuses himself to go to the loo.” 

We both laugh, handing our tickets to enter the ball. It takes me two seconds to spot one of my best friends chatting with some teachers, Charlotte Lucas. Charlotte and I did our undergrad in the same course, even though we parted ways for our masters degree. 

“Jane! Its been so long!,” she welcomes, “both of you are looking very good tonight!”

“Oh, this? Its a humbly made dress by none other than madam Jane Vennat,” I say proudly. 

Jane blushes, “you didn’t have to wear it, you know”

I turn towards her, “Jane, if I want to show you off, I WILL show you off.”

Before she can say anything my tutor approaches us, “Oh its so good to see you again, Miss Vennat! From what I have heard the university’s company is doing well!”

“You are very kind sir,” she replies. She stares at me awkwardly, not wanting to have to engage in conversation. I then do what I do best; ask simple things in a confusing manner. 

“Well, so has the elephant in the room actually arrived to the room?”

My tutor stares at me blankly. 

“Has Bingley arrived?” I say plainly. 

“Oh, no,” my tutor says with a smile, “it appears that he is a bit--

He stops talking as three people enter the room.

“aand now he’s here.”

I stare back at Bingley, not being discreet at all. He looks a bit different than when I saw him in West End. For starters, he is not a whole theater away, as the cheapest seats are those of the last rows. He is handsome, but with humble appearance; an odd quality for actors who have made it to where he has. 

“Who is the lady beside him?” Jane asks. 

“That would be his twin sister, Caroline,” my tutor answers. 

She looks a lot like her brother, save the humble appearance. Jane would know better, but the dress she wears is probably a designer one. What a waste of dress to wear for meeting a couple uni students. 

Beside them there is a third person. He doesn’t look like he could be another sibling-- he misses the distinguishable reddish hair. In contrast to Charles Bingley, who smiles as he greets anyone in his way, the man looks absolutely disgusted by the scene. 

“and who is their miserable friend who looks as if he just smelled the sewer?” I ask jokingly. 

“That, miss Bennet, that would be none other than the writer and director of the play you saw: F. William Darcy”