#just not sure how far a reach this will get cause adam is less popular than lucifer

[onesidedradiostatic]

PATHETIC SHOWDOWN 2: ELECTRIC BOOGALOO

made a pathetic poll before, vox absolutely SWEPT against lucifer last time, pondered on it and thought hey out of all the people who could possibly evenly match up to vox in patheticness, ADAM might have a chance. SO

POINTS (feel free to come up with your own I am grasping at straws here):

Adam

FOR

got cucked by lucifer TWICE

what's more pathetic than getting left by your wife? getting left by BOTH your wives

an actual dudebro

dumb as bricks

just look at him

"HES UGLY" "PUT THE MASK BACK ON"

actually fucking dies

and not even by lucifer by fucking niffty

AGAINST

is actually a really powerful angel who could destroy alastor's shield with one punch and almost killed alastor

mentions that he does in fact fuck in episode 1

could possibly be argued to still have bitches with lute

Vox

some of these may just be copy and pasted from the last one. against will have new points to juxtapose adam though

if you've been around my space long enough you know these well

FOR

lost his own diss track against his rival

sings an entire number about not giving a fuck about his rival's return while being the only person TO give a fuck

tried to physically block a radio, an AUDIO output device as if it'd stop anything, failed at doing even that

his screen calls out the reason for his crashes and he seemingly can't control it

causes a city-wide blackout because his rival announced to everyone he rejected him

there is a non-zero possibility he was/is in love with said rival but said rival will never love him back

purposely avoided going to an overlords meeting and called his co-worker up at the very last minute to attend for him

the guy he appointed as a spy ended up being the very person to prove a sinner can be redeemed

coward who constantly hides behind screens

episode 8

AGAINST

he is capable in literally any context outside of alastor

debuts actually acting cunning

capable of coming up with something on the spot without hesitation (voxtek angelic security)

actually smart (able to interpret val's "put something inside them" comment as appointing a spy)

feared by his employees

well he didn't get left by anyone in an EXISTING relationship... he just got rejected in one that never started

he has bitches (yeah it's valentino but bitches are bitches okay!!)

is in fact not dead

[goldnratio]

Inconvenient Interruptions (Spencer Reid x reader)

Summary: the team has to catch an unsub at a nightclub. spencer is paired up with female reader. they flirt, dance, and confess some feelings.

Warnings: briefly mentioned killings, some touching and kissing, microscopic teen wolf and beetlejuice references, a little ooc Spencer I think, and some guns at the end

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: I’m thinking of doing a part 2 that’s smut but idk yet,,, this is a hot mess but enjoy :))

—

Going undercover wasn’t so bad, you’d done it plenty of times while working for the BAU. Usually you’d go by yourself - with the rest of the team and local cops outside - or with a partner, and that sometimes meant you’d portray friends or lovers. Having been paired up with everyone on the team at least once, you’d probably say that you preferred pairing up with Spencer Reid. You were comfortable with the whole team, but you felt different with Spencer. You liked him, and you only hoped he felt the same. If not, then all the casual flirting back and forth would have just gone waste.

This case involved another serial killer, identified as forty-one year old Adam Raeken, that was going around Los Angeles, California and preying on all types of young couples. He seemed to have favored night clubs; abducting a couple from one club, and disposing their bodies somewhere near a different club. So far, he managed to abduct and kill six different couples without getting caught, and your team was hoping to catch him before he got a seventh.

After learning when and where Adam would strike next - around 9:30 PM at a club a few miles from the LA police station called ‘Dante’s Inferno’ - every available unit was going to be deployed.

Turned out, ‘Dante’s Inferno’ was a pretty big club, both in size and popularity. In an effort to try and catch Adam without causing a mass panic, every officer and agent was to go in plain clothes, along with the law enforcement waiting outside.

Even though the informant gave a rough time estimate, the team got there when the bar first opened at 8:00 PM to keep tabs on everyone who walked into the club.

—

Hotch made you and Spencer partners, assigning you the task of focusing on scoping the bar area for Adam.

You’d chosen a short, red bodycon dress that hugged your curves with matching heels and a loaded gun in your bag, acting coy with Spencer while you all waited for Adam to show up.

“What’s a girl like you, doing in a place like this?” Spencer said as he got comfortable in the bar seat next to you.

You take a sip from your non-alcoholic beverage and grin, “You use that opener with all the ladies?”

“Just the gorgeous ones.”

“Well to answer your question, I’m looking for someone.” Your smile feigns innocence, except Spencer can see the humor in your eyes.

“Really? A pretty girl looking for someone? I would’ve guessed someone here would be looking for you.”

“Most days, but tonight is special. He’s unique.” You wink at Spencer and he laughs.

“I’m sure he is. With a woman like you after him, he’s a lucky guy.”

You sigh dramatically. “That depends on if I find him tonight,” you take another sip from your drink, “if not, I’ll have to go home all by myself.”

“Oh please, I’m sure any man in here -“

Static coming from your earpieces interrupts him.

“Reid, (Y/L/N), if you could focus on the case, please.”

“Sorry, Hotch,” you blush, looking away from Spencer.

“Yeah, sorry, Hotch,” Spencer cleared his throat, “we’ll focus.”

“You can flirt off the clock after we’ve caught Raeken,” Emily teased.

You saw her down at the end of the bar with JJ and stuck your tongue out at her. JJ tries not to laugh as Emily fake gags.

“Ladies, if you can keep it together for the rest of the night, you can have your pick of a wine bottle from my cellar,” Rossi chuckled.

“Got it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You bet.”

No one saw, but Hotch rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

You quickly scanned the other people at the bar and a portion of the dance floor, making sure Adam hasn’t showed up early.

Your attention directs back to Spencer when he puts a shy hand on your waist and leaned in close to your side without the earpiece and microphone, so close that you felt his hair tickle and his breath hot on your skin.

“You know, we were ordered to come in plain clothes.”

Two can play this game, you thought.

Placing one hand on the back of his neck to play with his curls and the other on his bicep, you lean forward towards his earpiece-less side. “Plain clothes just means ‘not a uniform.’ This look like a uniform to you?” You softly squeeze his bicep, sitting up and taking another sip from your beverage.

Spencer simply shakes his head and smirks. “I just realized I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a dress.”

“I don’t think a dress, much less one like this, would be...appropriate…in the field.”

“I think I could imagine a few places it would be appropriate,” Spencer countered.

“Yeah?” You hum, “like where—“

“Alright it’s nine o’clock. Make sure you are on alert in the next twenty-five minutes so that we’re ready if he sticks to the time,” Hotch interrupts.

A series of ‘okay’s’ are heard in your earpiece.

“and (Y/L/N), Reid? Just because you’re not talking into the earpieces, doesn’t mean we can’t hear you.”

This time, it’s a series of your teammates’ laughs in your ear.

“Right, sorry...again,” Spencer answered.

You gave a small laugh and issued your second apology as Spencer excused himself to use the restroom.

—

As soon as he got in the restroom, Spencer took out his earpiece. Right before he walked into a stall, the restroom door opened and revealed none other than SSA Derek Morgan, who also took out his earpiece.

“Reid, my man!” Derek clapped his hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Who knew you had that kinda game in you, buddy?”

“Oh my god, Derek, please don’t do this now,” Spencer deadpanned.

“Do what?”

Spencer can’t help but give him the ‘seriously?’ look.

Derek smiled. “Look, kid. All I’m going to say is that it’s obvious you’re both into each other, you should go for it.”

“That’s just it, I don’t know if she really likes me or it’s just the friendly flirting or the fact that we’re technically undercover right now!”

“Kid, I’ve gone undercover with (Y/N) before, and trust me when I say that her flirting with you is real. And I’m sure you’ve noticed that she doesn’t ‘friendly flirt’ with anyone else other than you.”

Spencer sighs. “You really think she’s into me?”

“Of course I do. You’re a great guy, Reid. You two deserve each other.”

“Thanks, Derek...but is that it because I came in here to actually use the restroom.”

“Oh,” Derek laughs, “my bad, Reid. I just came in to wash my hands but I’ll let you get to your business.”

“Right...see you out there.”

—

When Spencer made his way back to the bar, the last thing he expected to see was a man trying to hit on you. He walked a little faster to you and noticed how your eyes lit up when he got there.

“Oh look! Here he is!”

The mystery guy looked at Spencer, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy at the thought of this man making a move on you while he wasn’t there.

“Who are you?” He asked Spencer in a bitter tone.

Spencer took a step closer to you and put an arm around your shoulders, “Her boyfriend.”

Luckily the man got the hint and left, and Spencer’s arm loosened up on your shoulders.

“Sorry I left, I didn’t think anything would happen in such a short time.”

Reaching for one of his hands and you give it a quick squeeze. “It’s not your fault, and um, thank you.”

“No problem.”

You both sit in silence - as much silence that’s possible at a crowded club with music that’s blaring, until you hear a familiar beat. You glance at your watch, it's almost 9:10 PM and you realize there’s time to have some fun.

“Hey,” you look up at Spencer, “you wanna dance?”

His instincts almost kick in to say no. But then Derek’s restroom advice is ringing in his head, ‘you should go for it.’

He gives you a hesitant smile, “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Okay, just a sec.” You reach for your earpiece. “Hey guys? Spence and I are gonna scope out the dance floor.”

“You sure you’re not going just to dance with Pretty Ricky?”

Spencer blushed.

“Yes, Derek. We are also going to dance, we have to blend in.”

“Just stay focused,” Hotch reminds you.

With Hotch’s semi-blessing, you grab Spencer’s hand and lead him to the middle of the dance floor.

At first, Spencer is a little stiff, but you’re patient with him as he tries to find a rhythm that works for him. In any other circumstance, Spencer would’ve lost his mind trying to dance to music so loud that he can feel it in his bones while surrounded by sweaty bodies. He can only tolerate it because you’re with him.

Only because it’s his large hands that have a tight grip on your hips.

Only because it’s his long fingers dangerously close to the curve of your ass.

Only because it’s your hands in his hair.

Only because it’s his eyes your gaze is burning into.

Only because it’s your body moving in sync with his.

The upbeat music lasted a few good songs, but the music transitioned into something slower. It sounds like R&B, but you lose focus with how Spencer’s hands feel on your lower back, practically burning through your dress. And how good he smells. And how handsome he looks in the club’s colorful lighting. You almost forget why you’re in the club in the first place.

Your hands are on his shoulders, slowly traveling to the back of his head to thread your fingers in his hair as he leans forward to bring his face closer to yours. Neither of you say anything while you stare at each other, both too afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing.

You don’t know who leans in first, but you can feel Spencer’s nose brush against yours and his lips are just millimeters away and -

“All agents, I have eyes on the target. I repeat, I have eyes on the target.”

Crap, it was finally 9:30.

You quickly pull apart from each other, despite the disappointment evident in both of your faces.

“Copy that. Where’s he by?” You’re looking around the dance floor but don’t see him.

“Raeken is approaching the bar. Remember to proceed with caution, we want to avoid casualties.”

You double check the dancing crowd to make sure there’s other plain clothed law enforcement, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

“Let’s go get a drink, all this moving made me thirsty.” You kiss Spencer’s cheek, and his face is flushed as he follows you to the bar.

Adam’s already ordering a drink, so you settle a few seats away. To avoid suspicion, you order drinks for yourself and Spencer, but he looks tense and you’re hoping no one notices.

You wrap your arms around Spencer’s neck to get closer so he’ll hear you. “You’re too stiff, follow my lead.”

Moving just a few feet closer to Adam, you purposefully drop your drink, gaining the attention of the people around you.

“Oh no!” you pout.

When Spencer asks the bartender for a rag, he sees Adam staring at you with a dark look in his eyes. Spencer doesn’t like it but he has no choice but to stick to whatever plan you have.

Spencer turns back to you and helps you clean up your spilled drink. Fortunately, the cup was plastic and not glass.

Once the mess is cleaned up, you thank the bartender for the rug and ‘accidentally’ bump into Adam.

“Sorry about that,” you fake giggle.

He smirks at you, his eyes never leaving your body. You fight the urge to arrest him right there.

“No worries, gorgeous.” He takes a sip from his own drink as you walk back to Spencer.

You hug him again, and his hands gravitate towards the middle of your back. “Is Raeken looking?”

Spencer nods.

“Okay, good. Sorry about this in advance.”

That’s when you lean in to kiss him and you lightly push down on his arms. Luckily, Spencer gets the idea and moves his hands to your backside and squeezes. He relishes in the taste of your mouth and the sound of your moan, until you break the kiss.

He has to remind himself how to breathe when you ask him if he wants to get out of there, just loud enough for Adam to hear. You wink at Adam as you walk past him, anticipating him to follow you as you lead Spencer to the club’s exit.

“Hotch, he’s leaving with Reid and (Y/L/N).”

“Start to make your way towards the exit, we’ll catch him outside.”

Some officers stay inside, while the rest of your team is following you three out.

Outside, you’re surrounded by police cars to ensure the serial killer’s capture, who was just a few seconds behind you and Spencer. You quickly throw on some vests you were handed and pull out your gun.

Adam walks out of the club and the look on his face is priceless.

“Adam Raeken, freeze!”

He tries to make a run for it back into the club, but your team is already blocking the entrance, guns pointed straight at him.

In a matter of minutes, Adam is cuffed, being read his Miranda rights, and in the back of a cop car.

Before heading back to the LA precinct, you want to talk with Spencer.

“Hey Spence,” you pull him to the side, “can we talk really quick?”

“Of course, (Y/N).”

You walk away from the crowd of law enforcement and onlookers leaving the club.

“Listen, about the kiss and everything I said at the bar, I’m sorry again for springing that on you. It was completely unprofessional of me and unfair to you.”

Spencer cleared his throat. “No uhh, don’t worry. I’m sorry about what I said at the bar too, but the kiss thing was okay, really, I enjoyed it.”

You giggle and he immediately realizes what he said.

“Wait I didn’t mean that - I mean - Not that I didn’t enjoy it, because to be honest, I did and -“

He’s surprised by the feeling of your lips on his, and he’s already kissing you back before he brain can even process it.

You pull back with a small smile on your face. “Spencer, I like you too.”

He sighs in relief, “Oh good, if not this would’ve been awkward.”

“Totally,” you laugh in agreement, “but um, since the case is over, do you maybe wanna get a cup of coffee or something when we get back?”

“I’d like that, yeah.”

“Okay, great! I guess we can-“

“Hey, Romeo! Juliet!”

Your’s and Spencer’s heads whip to the direction of the voice, belonging to a very smug Derek Morgan.

“You two done over there? Because we’ve got a case to wrap up and a plane home to catch!”

You yell back, “In a minute!”

Spencer’s yelling, “Alright! We’ll be right there!” at the same time.

“We can talk more about this,” you gesture between the two of you with your hands with a grin, “later.”

You’re both wearing smiles on your faces as you walk shoulder-to-shoulder, back to your team, trying not to think about the numerous questions they’re about to ask.

[fantastic-rambles]

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Kyan Reki, Shindo Ainosuke, Kikuchi Tadashi, Kyan Koyomi, Kyan Chihiro, Kyan Nanaka, Shindo Ainosuke’s aunts

Warnings: Minor character death (Kyan Masae), funeral, car accident, drunk driving, adoption, family drama (Adam’s aunts are involved, of course there is)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When Reki’s mother dies in an accident, he and his sisters are adopted by the Shindo family in order to give them a reputation for supporting humanitarian/charitable causes. However, since Ainosuke’s aunts cannot stand the children, they are relegated to the servants’ quarters, where Tadashi is assigned to help take care of them when he’s not attending to Ainosuke. While he struggles to take care of his siblings, Reki finds himself growing closer to the quiet, enigmatic man who serves the popular politician.

Chapter 1: In which the Kyans bid farewell to their mother and start a new life with the Shindos. [Written for TadaRekiWeek2021 | Day 1: Family]

Reki felt numb. It had already been a week, but he still couldn't believe that this was real. Koyomi clung to him, sobbing, while Nanaka and Chihiro wailed in the arms of two women he'd only just met. They handled the twins awkwardly, as if they'd never held children before, and their efforts to soothe them were largely fruitless.

"Mom! Mom!" Koyomi cried desperately, her tears soaking into the front of Reki's new suit. The tie was also too tight, but he couldn't find the strength to reach up and loosen it as he stared at the memorial photo of his mother. She was smiling at them, oblivious to their misery, and looking far more at peace than she did in the casket, her body mangled almost beyond recognition.

A drunk driver. A freak accident. They'd been orphaned by nothing less than sheer bad luck, and Reki had no idea what was going to happen to them now.

And he glanced sideways at a somber, older man whose head was bowed as they faced the altar. Shindo Ainosuke. He hadn't known anything about the man until he came into their lives, swooping in like some sort of hero to adopt the unfortunate children who were just as equally victims of the drunk driver. After they'd met a few days ago, though, Reiki had looked their savior up online, discovering that he was a member of the National Diet, elected to represent Okinawa. Even though Shindo was young, his political career seemed promising, having been active in writing and pushing through several bills on environmental issues. He was popular and handsome, and he seemed to be generally taken seriously even with a mostly female fan club that quickly caused tickets for any of his fundraising events to be sold out quickly.

Though Reki could understand why. He'd watched a couple interviews that had been uploaded online, and his new father--who wasn't even a decade older than him--seemed to be naturally charming as he demonstrated a breadth of knowledge and a sense of humor while explaining policies in a way that even he could understand. And more than that, Shindo's words could stir up his indignation or appease it. He was incredibly persuasive, but in a way that at least appeared to be entirely genuine.

What he couldn't understand, though, was why the man had decided to adopt all of them.

Shindo had been strangely tight-lipped on the matter, asking for the public to respect their privacy and grief, which was considerate of him, but the web was on fire with rumors. Of course, some of them were patently ridiculous, such as the one that had said the man had been having an affair with Reki’s mother, and others that claimed the twins were actually his children, even though they looked nothing alike and were clearly Reki and Koyomi’s siblings. But then there were others, the ones that said he was doing it for political clout, so that he could trot out the orphans and profit off their tragedy. Those ones seemed much more likely, even though the man had invested plenty of resources in keeping the media away: putting them up in a hotel when the paparazzi began to stake out their house, renting a private car service to drive them around, and and generally catering to their every need. In the appearances on TV that Reki had seen, Shindo always declined to discuss the siblings, deflecting the conversation to other topics and appearing appropriately somber.

But that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t deriving some sort of benefit from it. Even though Shindo didn’t discuss it, other programs did, some praising his generosity and humanitarian ideals while others took a more critical view of his decision to do so. So Reki didn’t know what to think. But he was sure that he’d figure it out eventually, since he was going to be living with the man.

When the funeral finally ended, Reki let Shindo lead them out to the car, a comforting hand laying on his shoulder. Koyomi’s cries had subsided to soft sobbing as she clung to her brother, and the man’s other hand rested on her head. He let them climb into the backseat first, with Koyomi half-falling over Reki, before taking a seat as well and accepting Nanaka and Chihiro from the women holding them. The twins had fallen asleep, exhausted from their wailing, and they stirred a little during the transfer, but the man gently rocked them until they were still again.

“Get the curtains, will you, Reki-kun?” he asked, his voice soft so as not to disturb any of the girls, and Reki nodded dully, reaching up to tug the curtain over his window while Shindo did the same on his side. And then Shindo leaned forward to speak to the driver.

“Bring us home, Tadashi.”

The other man nodded, and the car purred to life, pulling out of the temple and easing past the crowd of reporters outside until they reached the clear road. But Reki wasn’t looking at the passing scenery, just staring down at Koyomi sniffling in his lap as he patted her head mechanically. Home. It wouldn’t be the house that he’d grown up in for seventeen years, or the hotel that he’d lived in for the last few days. It would be somewhere new, somewhere he didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it.

Father. Dad. Papa. He glanced at the man sitting next to him with the twins settled on his lap. What did he call him? And as if he felt Reki’s glance, Shindo looked over at him, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“Can I do something for you?”

"Uh. No, it's fine," Reki mumbled, looking away again. He was sure that Shindo was still staring at him, but he didn't look back, staring at the dark curtain until the sound of the engine shutting off announced their arrival. But Shindo didn't move to open the door: instead, the driver--Tadashi--stepped out and opened it for his employer.

"Take one of the girls?" Shindo asked quietly, and Tadashi obeyed, bending over to gather Chihiro into his arms while Shindo got out with Nanaka. Reki had to wake up Koyomi so she could stumble out of the car ahead of him, and the two of them stared up at the enormous mansion that towered above them. This was where they were going to live from now on?

Another car pulled up beside them, disgorging another chauffeur who opened the door for three women. Two of them had been the ones who hadn't known how to handle the twins, and the third looked similar enough that they all had to be related: sisters, perhaps? Originally, Reki had thought they were other members of Shindo's staff, maybe part of his political entourage or something. But seeing them here, emitting a sense of confidence that bordered on arrogance, made his heart sink. There was something about them that he just didn't like, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Ainosuke. We've discussed this issue together, and we are in accord. You will keep the children in the servants' wing," one of the women declared. "They are simply too ill-mannered to be allowed in the main house as we had originally planned. We've never seen such awful behavior before in our lives. If they can learn to act like civilized people, then we can revisit this issue."

Reki's eyebrows snapped together at the insult to his family, and he took a step forward, only to be stopped by Shindo shifting his weight slightly to get in his way, a move that the man seemed to disguise by adjusting the girl in his arms.

"My dear aunts"--they were his aunts?--"please consider their circumstances. They are all still children, and they have all just lost the only parental figure that they know. If they are to become part of our family, then they must of course reside in the main house. We've already prepared rooms for them."

"Don't talk back to us, Ainosuke," the woman retorted. "We were against this from the beginning, but you insisted. We have already compromised this much for you, so you can do this for us. I'm sure that Kikuchi can find somewhere to get them settled. Handle it."

Then she turned on her heel, heading toward the entrance, and Shindo sighed, glancing over his shoulder at Reki with an apologetic expression.

"It's fine. I'd rather not live with her," Reki interjected before the man could say anything. "Just tell us where we're supposed to go."

Shindo seemed to hesitate, but then he nodded, glancing at Tadashi, who also nodded before starting to walk around the side of the house. There was an entrance there, and Tadashi shifted the girl in his arms to pull out a set of keys to unlock it and push the door open. Shindo let Reki and Koyomi follow the man inside before taking up the rear, and they walked in silence until Tadashi turned off the hallway into a room.

It was sparsely decorated, with a bed in the corner, a dresser with a mirror, and a wardrobe. Another door was slightly ajar, leading to what Reki assumed was a bathroom, and Tadashi carefully lay the girl in his arms onto the bare bed.

"This will be your bedroom, Reki-san. Please excuse our lack of preparedness; I will see to it that it is properly furnished and decorated by the end of the day. If there is anything else that you require, please inform me, and I will endeavor to fulfill your request, so long as it is reasonable. For larger requests, I may need to discuss it with Ainosuke first to receive his approval. Koyomi-san, you and your sisters will share the next room, and the same offer is extended to you. We have already hired additional staff to help take care of Nanaka-san and Chihiro-san so that the burden does not fall upon the two of you. Do you have any questions?"

Tadashi's formality, in addition to Shindo's aunt's statements, made Reki shake his head, feeling intimidated and out of place. But he caught Tadashi's glance at Shindo before Tadashi nodded slightly.

"Then I will go take care of that now. Please excuse me."

The man left, and Shindo stepped forward to lay Nanaka down next to Chihiro before crouching down to look at the other two.

"I'm sorry. This probably isn't the best first impression," the man apologized, grimacing slightly. "But I do want you to know that I really do want to be here for you. I'm too young to be a father to the two of you, so if you would like to treat me as an older brother, I'd like that. If you have any problems, if you need any help... just let me know, okay? Don't be shy, please. I am fairly busy with my work, but I'll always try to make time for you if you need it; for the times that I really can't, you can talk to Tadashi. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Reki mumbled, a sentiment echoed by Koyomi, and Shindo smiled, a little sadly, as he reached out to place a hand on each of their shoulders.

"I truly am sorry for what you went through. I wish that this wasn't necessary. And I'm sure that you've already realized this, but... it's probably best if you stay away from my aunts."

Reki and Koyomi both nodded, and Shindo squeezed their shoulders reassuringly before he straightened up.

"Then I'll give you some time to settle in. If you need anything and you can't find me or Tadashi, just ask any of the other servants and they'll let us know."

Reki watched Shindo leave, passing by Tadashi as he came in with his arms full of linens. He still felt out of it, but he helped the man make the bed before they moved on to the girls' room to prepare that one as well.

[aelin-queen-of-terrasen]

𝐖𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 - {𝟏}

Wicked Love: Summary + Masterlist

Full Masterlist

note: hi, so since things are grim enough, I figured we could all use some fluff. for now, I'll try to avoid posting angst much as I can.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

Some of the earliest memories of Aelin's childhood have Rowan Whitethorn in them. The bastard with his know-it-all attitude made her life Hell until graduation when she moved away. Her cousin's best friend has a way of winning people over despite the ever-present scowl on his face that infuriates Aelin to no end. Not to mention his determination to hate her without a reasonable explanation since the day they were introduced.

Rowan Whitethorn is the bane of her existence. "You," she sneers at him.

"Me," Rowan says, moving closer to them. He smiles at her but it looks more like a baring of teeth. "Nice to see you here, Princess." The nickname alone sets something inside her on fire.

"Likewise. This isn't like your usual scene," Dorian steps in as if he can imagine the profanities in her head.

She doesn't know what she is angry with him about—the day after graduation when she told him she was leaving town had been the only day neither of them fought or argued. He'd told her he would miss her annoying presence and she'd said she'd miss some arrogant jerk barking insults at her while she tried to do her work. It had almost been peaceful, like they were friends saying goodbye.

Rowan shrugs. "This isn't your usual scene either. At least you have your manners." A pointed glance at her.

His voice is deeper than before. He looks more beautiful than ever. "You here to rain on our parades, then?"

Rowan's arms are covered in tattoos that weren't there before. It adds to the whole 'don't fuck with me' vibe he gives out. His silver hair reach his neck—long enough that they can be braided now. Aelin liked it better when it was cropped short but the long hair suit him well. The harsh features are set in a neutral expression but he still manages to look menacing with his arms crossed, each muscle outlined by the soft fabric of his light blue t-shirt.

He says, "There's no need to be rude. I don't hold a grudge against you, Ace."

"For what? You're the one who made my high school years hell," she retorts. Not true. Rowan has as much reason to grudge her as she for him.

Rowan widens his eyes at the accusation in disbelief. "Me? You're the one who told our school president that I was hitting on his sister!"

"Yeah, 'cause you told Archer I was dating Dorian! If you hadn't, Archer would have asked me out." She can't believe the audacity he has, pointing fingers at her when he was as bad as her, if not worse. "You said—"

Dorian places a hand on her arm. "Ace, that's in the past. You two can have a do-over, a fresh start. Hug it out!"

"No way."

"Be mature for once, Ace."

Aelin remains adamant. "Don't know what you're talking. He's scheming!"

"He's not. Rowan is sincere."

She knows he isn't. The Rowan she knows would never give in or be the bigger person or want a fresh start. The Rowan she knew had once promised her they'd hate each other forever.

She pouts. "You don't know him like I do. I can swear he isn't sincere."

Dorian is about to say something but Rowan cuts him off with a loud, defeated sigh. "See why we hated each other now? I want to improve things but she's stubborn as ever." She calls bullshit on the improving things stuff. Aelin hasn't seen him in two years but no one can change that much. Then why is he doing this?

That's when she notices the cameras all around. Shooting has quite possibly started already. Dorian nods in confirmation when she catches his eye. Aelin says, "Fine! You want a do-over! Let's hug it out and start fresh."

She steps forward tentatively, wrapping her arms around her arch-nemesis. Rowan squeezes back. For a moment, Aelin isn't sure if she is right. What if he has changed? What if he is over it, like he said?

Then, so soft she almost missed it, Rowan whispers in her ear, "Game on, Princess." All her doubts melt away.

She has a smile on her face almost as fake as his own. "Game on, indeed."

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

As the only child of a businessman as successful as he is popular, Aelin is not unfamiliar with outrageous requests but this is on a whole new level. "You want me to do what now?!"

Gavriel—the producer and a family friend—winces at her outburst. "All the contestants will have some angle ready to win the audience over. Considering the reaction you had when you met each other, we think it's best if you pretend to be exes," he explains calmly. "The audience will eat that up. If you want to win, you have to give them drama. Nothing shouts drama like warring exes."

If she is being honest, it is a good plan. Rowan asks, "Why us? I can pretend to be someone else's something!"

Gavriel shakes his head. "Others have their angles worked out. You hate each other already. You can either let this be the end of your journey before show starts. Or you can use your hatred to win. Why compete when you can work together and win? Both of you?" Aelin is still not sold on it but she has to admit it's a good plan.

Rowan breathes out. "I don't want to have to talk to her more than I need to."

"Look who stopped pretending. You soul-sucking lizard! Oh wait, that's an insult to lizards," Aelin says. She doesn't care if she's acting like a child.

He gestures towards her green jumper. "You sure you aren't looking in the mirror, Princess?"

"Damn sure, fuckface—"

Gavriel cuts in before Aelin can pounce on Rowan with her claws out. "See? You're both bound to make things interesting. Don't think of this as having to talk to each other on camera. Think of it as a chance to show each other down in front of camera." And make each other look bad in front of the audience, Gavriel doesn't need to say the rest of it. That gets her attention.

She curls her fingers in the air as if they are wrapped around Rowan's throat. She wants to win this thing. If in making the audience fall in love with her, she can also make the audience hate Rowan, she can tolerate him, can't she?

"I'm in," they say in unison.

Gavriel smiles at them. "When everyone places bets, my money will be on you. Don't disappoint me, you two."

"If there's any danger of disappointing, it will be from Rowan," Aelin says.

The silver-haired bastard refrains from retorting to her but a smirk makes it's way onto his face. He rises from his seat and is almost out of the door when he finally replies, "We'll see what happens. See you soon, princess." And then he is gone, leaving Aelin in the room.

She is still a little shaken by his confidence when she recounts the whole thing to Dorian. "I swear he was never this sure of himself before! Like, he insulted me, sure, but he was always such a perfectionist, I've never seen him look pure smug."

Dorian grins, "It's just like the old times. You ranting to me about Whitethorn."

"Just like the old times," Aelin affirms. "Except much less kissing." Because they'd been dating each other through a better part of high school. Admittedly, she prefers him as a best friend.

Her best friend rolls his eyes. "You joke, but I still have nightmares about how lovesick I used to be back then." He makes a face at his own words, then says, "Speaking of, guess who else is on the show: our star quarterback."

"Fenrys? All I can think about is you, a lovesick nerd with braces and a big crush on Fenrys Moonbeam."

Dorian laughs. "All I can think about is you, dance captain and red haired cheerleader with an even bigger crush on Fenrys Moonbeam." The two of them smile, remembering the lovesick idiots they'd both been in high school. "We are supposed to act like best friends competing with each other for the prize or something. Dial up the drama and all." Regrettably, neither Dorian or her had had the nerve to even introduce themself to the quarterback before he moved away. This would be interesting.

This wasn't Aelin's usual world—this world of glamour and Fame and deception but maybe it wasn't far from her world either. All she was upset about was that Rowan Whitethorn had possibly ruined the grand-old time she had been promised.

──────✧❅✦❅✧──────

tags:

@thesirenwashere // @judexcardanxgreenbriar //@fangirltrash74 // @the-dark-swan // @queenofgreenbriar // @clockworkgraystairs // @julemmaes // @rowaelinforeverworld // @mymultiversee // @queen-of-glass // @strangely-constructed-soul // @mijaldraws // @http-itsrebecca // @aesthetics-11 // @lord-douglas-the-third // @flowersinvegas // @towhateverend17 // @aelinchocolatelover // @justabunchoffandoms // @cool-ish-nerd // @faerie-queen-fireheart // @sad-book-whore // @didsomeonesayviolin // @atozfantazyxx // @hizqueen4life // @the-gods-killer // @booknerdproblems // @annejulianneh111 // @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln // @b00kworm // @mysweetvillain // @curlyredqueen06 // @moondancer-204 // @thesurielships // @witchling-leonor // @ladywitchling // @amren-courtofdreams // @ifinallygavein // @jlinez // @faequeenaelin // @df3ndyr

I love how long this list has gotten. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged!

[lennydaisy]

SWAN SONG || The Walking Dead AU

‘You have to trust that every friendship has no end, that a communion of saints exists among all those, living and dead, who have truly loved God and one another.

You know from experience how real this is. Those you have loved deeply and who have died live on in you, not just as memories but as real presences.’

HENRI NOUWEN

                         The Walking Dead.

        Season 1-?

                                         FEM OC! and ?

This is the prologue for a Walking dead AU that I wrote ages ago, and I feel like its too good to waste. So here it is :))

‘Now to John, who's live at the scene. John, what's happening there?'

'I'm here at Central Atlanta Hospital where there has been a reported disturbance within the wards. Patients allegedly have gone rogue, biting and scratching the doctors and each other.'

'If we pan to our left here, you can see the hallways are overflowing with newly found patients from the attacks.'

Glancing up at the ancient box TV perched in the top corner of the room, eyebrows frowned as I take another bite of my bland chicken sandwich.

The screen displays a lit yellow Hospital hallway with beds and chairs cluttering the space. With no room to breathe, the patients packed together like a tin of sardines.

The camera zooms into one patient in particular, who judging by their attire is a nurse themselves. A sickly colour of unnatural grey washed over their face, a layer of sweat glistening under the cheap lights and her veins protruding from her neck as though she's struggling to keep herself calm.

'Miss, would you be able to explain how your feeling?'

I can't help but scoff at the reporter's request. She is clearly in no condition to answer any of his questions and it's downright ignorant to shove a microphone in the face of a woman who has clearly seen better days.

The women slowly turned to face the reporter, her eyes appearing to lack any colour with bags drooping down to her jaw, and glares with all she can muster. Despite clearly being exhausted from whatever is happening to her body, she has no problem expressing her aggravation towards the man.

'Not responsive I see. Well no mind, as the viewers at home can see, Central Hospital is in desperate need of doctors and nurses. So I'm here to announce that if there is anyone-'

I don't know how to describe what I just saw. Just know that it was revolting enough to put me off chicken sandwiches forever.

In the midst of the reporter's announcement, a pair of hands slowly made their way around his body. Their nails were bitten down to stumps, their fingers a troubled colour of blue as though clogged with blood. The sickly hands, lazily but purposefully, claw at the reports button-up shirt from behind. Tugging on the attachments like grips, the women who the reporter was previously questioning is now sinking her teeth into the man's neck. Trails of blood dripping from her lips as she pulls her jaw roughly away from his neck taking a clump of him with her.

The look of pure horror wash over the man's faces, and mines in probably mimicking his. I've never seen anyone's eyes pop so far from their head. The face of sheer panic and terror covering his visuals as he opens his mouth to let out what I can only assume to be a deafening scream but before a sound is made the camera quickly cuts back to the studio, where the two anchors are now shaking at the sight they just witnessed live.

'We'll be back after this quick intermission,' squeaked out the anchor, eyes still wide, never leaving the screen off camera.

'Were you recently involved in an accident?',  the convenient ad was interrupted by the television being turned off. Snapping my head to my right, only to be met by the sheepish face of Darcy, the department receptionist. Smiling weakly at me from her desk, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about."

Nothing to worry about. "Were we just watching the same clip," I breathe baffled at the idea of not worrying about what we just witnessed, "That man just had his neck bitten into but some Wednesday Adams looking women," I laughed, struggling myself to understand what just happened.

"I'm sure he's fine," she waves her hand in my direction before quickly standing up as I did seconds before, " What are you doing?" She questions as I grab my hat off my peg.

Rolling my eyes as I make the reach for my keys, "My job," my fingers scraping the keys before they are snatched out of my reach. Looking up at the elderly women with bored eyes, I hold my hands out waiting for her to cave.

"No, half the department is already helping the city, we need you here in Kings County," she argues quickly running back to her desk, sliding into her roller chair. Out of my vision but not hearing, I hear the clashing of keys, the slamming of metal and the sound of a lock.

She locked my keys in her desk.

"Darcy- " I begin only to be interrupted.

"No" she heaves, hands crossed over her chest tightly, "It's bad enough those two are God knows where doing God knows what, I can't allow the only deputy left in the building to leave."

I would be annoyed and honestly, I am, the woman isn't not letting me do my job, but with just a simple look in her eyes I can see why she doesn't want me to leave, "You're scared," I point out pulling my chair over to the front of her desk, sitting my hat on the table.

Refusing to meet my eyes answered my assumption. She was scared and she had every right to be. What we just watched on the news isn't normal but it's not the first we've heard of this 'infection'. It's been going on for weeks, especially in the city. Residents reporting sights of people staggering through the streets, grabbing and biting anything they can get their hands on. Honestly sounds like a typical weekend in the city in my opinion, after a couple of drinks, you'd be surprised what some people turn into. I haven't seen any of these things personally but that news clip just made everything people have been bustling about all too real.

"These things are apparently migrating. It's not just a city virus, they're making their away out into places like this," her hands brushing the nonexistent lint off the top of my hat, her voice so soft, if you didn't listen closely enough you'd miss it.

"I'm not going to fill you with false hope because honestly, I have no idea what is happening but I will say this if I know you at all, something like a little virus isn't going to be the end to the bombshell that is Darcy Peters."

A small smile begins to creep onto her face, "You should have seen me in my youth," flipping her white shoulder-length hair.  Shaking my head with a giggle, I lean over her desk and turn her desktop towards me looking at the set back of work left for her to complete. Moving the mouse to the bottom of the screen I log her off, " Take the rest of the day off."

Knowing fine well she would say no, I left her no room for arguments as I hastily grabbed her coat passing it to her, "Don't tell me no Peters, Deputies orders," I said with authority behind my voice but eventually broke out into a smile at the delightful women before me.

"But what about-" she points at the computer addressing the work she still had to do. Grabbing the women's hands as I begin to drag her out the door, "Don't worry I'll handle it but you need to go home and chill out," snatching her car keys as I begin walking with her hand in hand to her beloved mustard Ford Fiesta.

Opening the driver's door, "M'lady," I bow holding the door. Shaking her head at my act, she wraps her arms around my shoulders, brings me in for a hug, slightly shocked but I hug her back none less, "Thank you, Macy," she laughs in my ear before pulling away, cupping my face like an affectionate grandmother.

Slapping my cheeks lightly she points her finger timidly at my face, "Now no running off play superhero, you're needed here," her eyes never leaving mine as though to challenge me to say otherwise. Well, I like a challenge, "No promises."

A dead look in her eyes causes me to laugh once more, "Okay, I promise I won't run off, I'll stay put. Now beat it, tell Richard I say hi," closing the door behind the women before stepping away from her car.

Just before she was about to drive off, she rolls down her window, "Oh before I forget, here's the key to the desk. Also there's something for Officer Friendly in there you won't miss it," see spoke throwing the flimsy key my way. Nodding my head towards the women, I mockingly salute her off, catching a glimpse of her rolling her eyes smiling.

Tossing the small, rusted key between my hands, I make my way back to Darcy's desk. After a couple of shakes and jiggles, the lock to the drawer eventually clicks. Pulling open the drawer, I grab my car keys stuffing them in my back pocket. That's when my eyes catch a shine reflecting out of the space. Reaching my hand in my finger brush across metal embroidery.

A Sheriff badge.

Unable to help the smile that made its way to my face as I stare down at the achievement of my friend. 'Officer Friendly's going to flip. So will someone else but for a different reason.' Shaking the thought from my head, I quickly run round to the desk of the newly found Sheriff. Going to place the shining badge on the desk, a note stops me;

Gone for a quick lapse of the county. If I'm not back by finish, I'll see you tomorrow, Officer Friendly.

Still sitting the badge on his desk, hoping that he at least makes it back in an hour, his face will be priceless. Snatching the remote from the floor, I flick the television back on, wanting to see if there are any updates on the situation.

'Government officials have requested that everyone stays inside their homes, only leaving unless extremely necessary. Until this is contained, please be cautious. This has been channel 5's news.'

Drowning out the rambling of the adverts, I absorb myself I'm my phone. 7 texts, damn I'm popular.

From Corey. Hey, can you drop me off :) Sent 07:39

From Corey. Oft okay never mind then I know I broke 3 of your car window, but that doesn't forbid access does it?? Fine two can play at that game, I'll walk. Ummmm that's when you're supposed to be the super big sister and say 'no sweet little sister, don't walk and ruin your BRAND NEW BOOTS, I'll happily drop you off' Boo you, you suck :(( Sent at 07:57

From Corey. Hey, can you pick me up ;) Sent at 17:12

This girl, I swear.

To Corey. I'll think about it :)) Sent Now.

Collecting my things, preparing myself for my leave. All too quickly trying to rush out the door, I skid to a halt and turn round to a certain desk in particular. Contemplating my options, I decided to take the newly found badge with me. For one; it is past shift time and I really want to witness his face when he gets promoted.' I'll just give it to him tomorrow when everyone's here', I thought.

Now I'm well aware that my car isn't exactly the best site for sore eyes, I'll be the first to admit that, but it was my dream car and it was the first real big purchase I ever made as an adult. My glorious, yellow Volkswagen Beetle. She's seen better days that for sure, but she means a lot to me and a couple of bumps and scratches isn't going to make me trade her in. Ever.

I grew up in Mormont, Georgia. A small county that no one has heard of and when people ask where I'm from I'm always met with the same look. In Mormont everybody knows everybody. It's a tight-knit community with no secrets. When word got out the resident widow had adopted 3 girls from the now shut down orphanage, the community was sent into a frenzy.

The same woman who was framed for burning down her old farmhouse that her husband happened to be still asleep in, was now going to be a mother of 3 very different daughters.

Without my mom I wouldn't even be here today, I would be how I am today. Mom adopted me when I was 4 years old, and even at a young age, I know that something about me was different from the other kids at kindergarten. Kids would come and leave joyfully holding the hands of their parents whitest they rambled on about what we did that day. I would leave on a bus with a woman who didn't really care enough to remember my name, looking after me in the centre was just a 9 to 5 for her and she got to go home to her family without a care in the world. I will never forget the day I was called down to the main office.

Believing that I had done something wrong, I reluctantly climbed down the creaking bunk beds steps. Looking around the room, I'm met with many stares, some glaring, some shaking their heads. I was in a room surround by judgemental toddlers.

I've never been called down to the office before. I've seen others been called down and they never come back. Tommy told me that Glenda, the houses mistress, feeds them to the two-headed man in the attic. I never believed him, knowing that he only wanted to scare me but now I'm not so sure. 'I don't want to be eaten', I thought.

One step at a time, I slowly make my way down the wooden steps that despite my lightweight still shriek under my shoes. Before I reach the bottom of the stairs, I'm met by the glorious Glenda. Her lopsided, spectacles clawed eyes boring down at me, 'Come,' she said before spinning around and heading to the room she just walked out from, 'There's someone here to see you."

'Someones here to see me? But I don't know anybody' I thought to myself as I follow behind the women with a newfound spring in my step.

"Mason this is Charlotte, she'd like to adopt you."

I guess you could say that's when I knew. When I first land my eyes on hers, I felt something that then in my short 4 years of life had never felt before, safe. Fast forward 22 years and that feeling had never left. Like the light of an eternal flame, that shine behind my mom's eyes never left, never even flickered. It's a constant reminder, I knew it when I was 4 years old and I still know it now at 26, that home isn't found in a physical building but instead found in those you surround yourself with.

No matter how hard I try, I will never be able to fully express my gratitude towards my mother. She gave me a chance and took me into her home with open arms. She says 'Thats what mothers do' and that might be true but she didn't have too. That's just the type of person she is. A heart of gold, a heart that is far too big for this world. She might not be my birth mother but in my opinion no one could do better, I don't know what I did in a past life to deserve the right to call her my mother, all I know is that I'm forever thankful for that.

Cora, or Corey, my sweet baby sister. The best way to describe her would be prissy. A real drama queen but strong-minded. When it comes to Corey no mountain is too high. Basically it's Corey's world and we're all just live in it. I take deep pride in telling her that she was an ugly baby and I'm not telling any lies. One look at her baby pictures sends a shiver down your spine.

She's your basic stressed college student who believes that the world will end if she fails to hand in one essay on time, but has no problem with partying the night before a big exam. Beginning to understand what type of person Corey is?

Then there's Ally. The big sister, my big sister. I remember growing up and always wanting to be like her when I grew up, I thought she was the coolest person in the world. She shaved off her hair when she was 18 and me and my 8-year-old self desired to do the same. Mom was mortified and kids at school did laugh at me for a while but I didn't care, I wanted to be like my sister, buzz cut and all.

As I grew up however I realised something, Ally had a darkness inside her. When I was younger I never noticed, I always saw her acts for rebellion as inspiration for my own mischief but as I got older and matured, she never. She always stayed the same. It some cases that's a good thing if you're a good person that is. I never believed my sister to be a bad person, more troubled than anything. I think why you get to the age of 36 and still rebel against your mother like an edgy teenager somethings not right.

Ally thinks the world is constantly against her, that the whole world is testing her, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I was the first to know she was pregnant, she didn't tell me herself but the positive stick sitting in the bathroom bunker was a big give away. I've seen her anger a handful of times and more often than not it consumes her, her anger is her own worse enemy and that day I meet the worst of it. There was a lot of screaming and hitting, and things being thrown in my direction. Luckily enough no one else was home when all this happened, but it was quite hard to explain why I had a black eye and Ally had burst knuckles. I lied, that's what I did.

'I got jumped,' it was the best I could come up with at the time. I made up a story of me being mugged and Ally saving the day. Mom barked up a storm, ask question after question, and I was slowly running out of ideas for my action sequence. That was until Ally spoke up,

'I'm going away for a while,' she said placing her fork down on her barely touched the plate, 'Work,' she replied to the looks that were sent her way. I refused to meet her eyes but I knew fine well that she was staring at me in particular, that didn't stop me from listening though.

'Oh, well for how long?,' Mom asked swirling around her glass of wine, 'A couple of months.'

'And what work relate thing causes you to be away for a couple of months?' Corey spoke up, her eyes never leaving Ally's as though to challenge her, 'The companies looking for a new manager, I thought I would try and run for it. It is more money,' she spoke trying to convince not only Cora but our reluctant mother too. Reluctant and our mom isn't two words that I would put together, she's a keen believer of 'if you want it, go and get it', but not when it comes to Ally.

'It seems like a good opportunity,' mother said honestly, nodding her head at her oldest daughter, 'seems like bullshit,' I muttered under my breath causing my mom to kick my shin from under the table, only to be faced with the stern stare of my mom.

'Language Mason' sternly spoke our mom making Cora laugh slightly at the use of my full real name.

'I'm just saying, she seems to go on a lot of these trips and comes back empty-handed every time, sorry for having some doubt.'

'That's enough Cora,' Mom said not breaking eye contact with her youngest who is sitting across the dinner table from her, 'yeah whatever, can I be excused?' Before she could get an answer she was already on her feet marching out the room.

Nodding sadly, mom looked around the table at the remaining 2, 'Macy, darling,  you've barely touched your dinner.'

Meeting her eyes, 'I had a big lunch,' the lies pouring out my mouth at this point.

The rest of the dinner that night was filled with awkward silence. The sound of the chair next to me scraping against the old hardwood floor breaks my concentrated gaze on my plate. Ally's hard duty boots marching out of the room and storming up the stairs.

My mom let out a sigh and placed her fork on her now empty plate, looking up at the only remaining daughter at the table. Flashing my mom a small smile, taking a sip of my now lukewarm water, "You make good spaghetti mom"

"Go check on her for me please," she practical begged, her voice suggesting nothing but defeat, "She never talks to me anymore."

'I'm probably the last person she wants to see," is what I wanted to say to my mom, but looking at my mother with her head in her hands at the thought of my troubled older sister broke my heart.

Before taking the dreaded walk up the stairs and to the door at the end of the hall, I placed a hand on my mom's shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.

'Everything will be okay.' I thought to myself.

Knocking on the door, only to receive no reply, 'I know you're in there,' I said continuously knocking on the oak door. Getting bored with being ignored, I did the brave and open the forbidden door, Ally's bedroom door.

Ally's bedroom is something, I don't know what that something is but it screams Ally. It's dishevelled yet bland, perfect for Ally I guess. Nothing but a set of drawers with half the handles missing, piles of dirty washing sitting in the corner of her room that will probably stay there for weeks, and a chipped dark wood bed. And then there's Ally, who is currently packing a bag.

'There is no business trip is there?' I asked even though I fine well knew the answer already. Throwing the last of her clothes in the bag, she stares me dead in the eye from her position at the bottom of her bed, 'I have to get out of here.'

Walking further into her room as she walks back to her drawers closing them loudly, 'Promise me one thing,' I asked looking out the window at the deserted street. Hearing no noise for behind me I continued, 'That we'll get to meet them one day,'

'I can't promise you that,' turning round to stare at her in confusion, 'what you're never coming back?' I asked softly shaking my head at the idea of her leave and never returning. Ally goes away a lot but she always comes back. We might not be as close as we use to be when I was younger but it's a comfort to know that she's here with us.

She just looked at me not speaking yet her glances spoke a thousand words. I didn't know silence could get any quieter but I was proven wrong in that moment. It was as though the whole world stopped spinning, it was like the world ended right and then. Shaking my head at my sister mentality, my heartbreaking even at the thought of what she wanted to do, 'Oh,' was the only response I muster up as I move to sit at the edge of the bed, my legs suddenly feeling like jello.

Rubbing my hands over my eyes and tugging at my hair, trying to get all my thoughts to settle down. The feel of a hand softly holding my shoulder caught my attention. Looking down at me was my sister, my big sister, that I wanted with every fibre of my being to be like when I grew up. But people change, and Ally surely did. That moment made me realise something, Ally never changed. No, she was always the same. It was me who changed, I was just too young to realise.

The day that Ally left, a part of myself left with her, and that necessarily wasn't a bad thing. No, she took the naive part with her. The sense that everything was okay now, that everything was perfect now because I had a family. Sometimes families go through rough patches and for some reason ours was never-ending.

Shaking my head, snapping myself out of my thoughts, focussing once more on my journey home. I love county lanes, there the best to drive on. You can go as fast as you want and when you go over a little hill you get those silly butterflies in the pit of your stomach. My family hates driving with me on these roads. Apparently I'm too careless when it comes to driving, I argue that I'm not careless I'm just used to acting like I'm in the Fast and Furious movies.

Speaking of radical driving, I hit the breaks slowly once I spot what's up ahead. A car parked sporadically in the middle of the lane, but that's not what's got me confused. There are people, a headcount of about ten, all banging their hands lazily on the windows of the car, smearing their faces over the glass.

Cutting the engine, leaning over to the car pocket reaching for my emergency gun, I slowly stalk my way out of the car. Holding the gun with both hands at the ground, the safety still on as I make my way closer but not too close.

"Hey, what are you guys doing, what's the problem-" my voice slowly losing its confidence as the figures around the car turn to face me and begin to walk drunkenly towards me. The noise they make doesn't sound too good, the air now filled with grunts and groans, the sounds of pain. I noticed a couple not paying me any mind, to busy eating something. Oh.

Realising exactly what I'm witnessing. Those are the sick people that has the world on edge. A group of them a coming right towards me. Raising my gun and flipping the safety off, I take aim, "Don't come any closer, I'll shoot," I announce not really wanting to have to shoot them. I might as well not have spoken, they just keep pushing, stumbling over one another as they inch closer.

Lining up, setting my sights on one, in particular, a middle-aged man, a civilian, I shoot one shot into his left leg. Nothing. A slight knockback at most but he's still alive. Trying again, I aim for his chest and the same happened again. Lastly shooting the head, that's what does it. He's down.

That one alone took up to much time, I have another 8 headed my way and I only have a limited amount of bullets. The odds were not in my favour, that much was clear. Making a dash for my car, hastily ripping my keys from my pocket. Silence.

"Come on don't fail me now!" I said through gritted teeth. Shoving the keys into the engine once more and twisting. Sounds of my struggle echo throughout the car as I feel the nonexistent sweat beginning to build as my breath becomes hot with frustration. Now as good a point as any to point out that I have 3 broken windows, no thanks to Cora. Not broken as in they don't go down, oh no, they don't go up. I mean how one single girl breaks 3 windows is beyond me. Honestly, it didn't bother me that much to begin with, it gives my car character. Right now though it's a different story.

If my internal panic with my car not starts wasn't enough, then maybe those things reaching their grimy hands in my car are. Before I knew it my car was surrounded by the creatures, some toppling over the bonnet of my car, others pushing their hands through my half-cracked down windows. I feel the lazy touch of the fingers brushing against my shoulders and hair causing my entire body to shiver.

"Please" I beg over the sounds of the deathly groans and screams. Turning the key again with my sweaty hands, my body shaking in fear of what's to come. As though Jumpstarted, my car roars to life. The sound of my own engine has never sounded so delightful and I should honestly appreciate it more.

Not caring for speed limits, I push the pedal to the metal. The shrieking of my tires scraping on the hard concrete leaving evidence of my wheels spinning. Pushing through the moss pit of things before my car wasn't as hard as it sounds, even though they look like dead weight, they are quite easy to redirect.

Speeding my car a distance away for the scene, next to the car they were previously attacking, before I slow to a stop again, looking in my rearview mirror. They're following me. Looking to my left, I see the beaten car. Curdling blood dripping from the passenger seat window with loose pieces of straggling hair stuck to the wing mirror. Leaning over slightly I see a few fingers laying on the ground. Holding back my gag, I look back up into the car, only to be met with a figure. A hard to distinguish figure. Completely devoured and unrecognisable. Those rabid animals shredded these poor souls face to shreds with any features now ruined.

Shaking my head at the sounds of the things coming closer to my car again, I slowing start moving, only to hit the breaks instantly as a thought came to my head. Looking in my rearview mirror again at the car, tears begin to build in my eyes. A mustard Ford Fiesta. That's the car. That's her car. My cheeks slightly soaked, my hands shaking once again as I roughly grab the roots of my hair. Having enough, I swat away the tears that are trailing down my cheeks, nose scrunched up as I try my hardest not to look back again. I didn't.

Driving down that road, the road that usually fills me with overwhelming joy, felt different this time around. It felt darker. The road that I knew ultimately leads me to home is beginning to feel like a drag. It's a road that I never want to drive down again because the only thought that I can think of now is: it's my fault.

[dear-yandere]

lots of ilya q&a below - part 1

tw ... mentions of noncon and murder.

[ part 2 ] 

question:  so Ilya wouldn’t like a cop out of principle but what it,, Ilya had a darling but a (yandere?) cop investigating his case,, ALSO likes ilyas darling.. (obviously this would only be fun if the cop is rly competent and an actual threat)

answer: ilya believes that because he’s suffered, he should have a “free pass” to inflict suffering onto others, so of course he isn’t fond of having someone on his tail that constantly gets in the way of his fun. still, anything that staves off boredom is a plus in his book.

whether the cop is yandere or not, ilya isn’t fond of sharing his darling with the likes of an officer. simply put, this rival poses a threat to taking darling away (basically being a cockblock). ilya’d be sure to use the cop’s feelings to mock him, such as mentioning how wonderful darling is in bed, what a wonderful shade their skin turns when he chokes them to near-death, or – worst of all –  how popular darling’s pictures / videos have become on the dark web.

in reality, ilya has the upper hand in this situation. he’s avoided the cops for so long, what’s another one? then again, this devil-may-care mentality will surely be his downfall if the cop is competent enough to catch him.

question: Also sorry for spamming u I’m just in a mood rn- If Ilya likes hurting adults but wants to protect kids, how does he feel abt teenagers? Cause i feel like if I was an adult I’d see teenagers as kids so like are teenagers more like kids or more like adults to him? Also I thought it was rly funny that ppl seemed 2 prefer being ilyas partner in crime over being his darling but like if I had to interact w him I’d want him to protect child me lol cause I just want someone to watch out 4 me,,

answer: considering the amount of distasteful and illegal things he comes across involving minors on the dark web, anyone under the age of consent (or that looks too much like a child) is a kid in his eyes. even if he met an adult that looked young enough to be underaged, he’d feel uncomfortable with assaulting / killing them even after learning their age.

and i agree! ilya would’ve actually made a wonderful kindergarten or elementary teacher had his life played out differently. i was a bit shocked people preferred being his partner in crime, but it makes sense since they’d be prolonging their lifespan should they have the misfortune of meeting this man.

question 1: Can I ask how Ilya would react to a darling who cant die? Or dies but comes back to life each time? I’m torn between thinking he’d be frustrated because his ultimate show of love won’t stick or ecstatic that he has someone he can kill over and over again

question 2: I wonder how Ilya would react to a darling he COULDNT kill, maybe because they were immortal or simply always managed to stay just out of his reach. Perhaps they even returned a bit of his feelings but never as much as he wanted, never enough to die for it. - jinxdere

ilya would probably go through the stages of “grief”.

he’d be angry and distraught at first, adamant about maintaining his denial toward the situation. he’s never encountered a darling who couldn’t die; the moment he slit their throat, he expected them to never come back, to never question his love in such a way as to live. 

during the bargaining stage, he’d distance himself for a while, at least until he comes to terms with it and decide what to do.

during the depression stage. rather than be ecstatic that he can kill his darling over and over again, he’d feel an equal amount of anger as he does love. above all else, ilya wants to have fun, to cope with his problems by hurting as many people as possible. to him, killing others is his way of spreading his twisted version of love; he wants to kill as many people as he possibly can because he wants to love everyone. really though, this is an excuse to make as many people suffer as he possibly can. because he was wronged in his life, he wants to drag others down to his level. therefore, he’d rationalize his options and eventually decide to begrudgingly accept his darling’s immortality.

during the acceptance stage, he’d be willfully ignorant. he’d abandon this darling, sending them far away and telling them to never seek him out again; and if they do (especially if they fell in love with him), he will make every death more painful than the last. he wants nothing to do with them simply because they represent something he can’t overcome in life; ilya is fascinated by the marriage between death and love, and this particular darling is challenging his entire world view. he’d rather remain ignorant.

so basically, while he isn’t fond of having more than one darling at a time, he’d shun this immortal darling and no longer think of them as his. this seems counterintuitive, but a big part of ilya’s character is his hypocrisy and ignorance. they define who he is and act as a reminder of his past and innate psychopathic tendencies.

question: if u say Ilya has always had psychopathic tendencies, would he still be where he is rn if he had a good childhood? And I wonder like.. apathetic ppl/characters are often into morbid stuff and don’t care about hurting others but when u strip that down isn’t that just following your desires? Like are people like that obligated to be into violent stuff? Cause if Ilya just really liked collecting fish there’d be no issue.. I kinda think it’s a way to lash out at the world without letting it get 2 u

answer: i hope i understood this question correctly.

i can’t speak for actual psychopaths or serial killers obviously, but ilya is willfully ignorant and hypocritical. it’s his way of ‘lashing out without letting it get to him’ – his way of coping, basically. if he had a good childhood, it’s certainly possible he wouldn’t have treaded this path. however, childhood is only one factor that can push psychopaths over the edge. people who are apathetic or into morbid stuff aren’t obligated to be into violent things, especially as there can be some other mental issue at play; take narcissistic personality disorder for example. i personally know someone who likely has this disorder, but they are not into morbid / violent stuff even though they may lash out violently or disregard hurting others at times. i agree that your evaluation is probably correct in this situation too: lashing out is a way to cope.

now, if ilya’s parents had been more attentive, they would’ve noticed their son’s unsettling tendencies. killing animals is a big indicator of something greater at play and i’m sure they would’ve taken him for a psychological screening. i’m no doctor or psychiatrist (i’m not even in the medical field), but i imagine that with early detection and proper therapy, ilya might’ve been a normal person. would he still be into morbid things and have all the extreme kinks he currently does? yeah probably, but to a much lesser extent.

question: okay so u said Ilya knows he’s fucked up which is why he can’t have a kid BC he wouldn’t want them involved in that life so like.. if he knows he’s fucked up but still enjoys doing what he does, does he justify it to himself? Does he just not think about it? Like I often see evil characters be like “the world hurt me so I’m allowed to hurt others” - is it like that? Cause u said he’s a hypocrite and that’s quite hypocritical imo (if u know how bad it can be why make others suffer too yk?)

answer: part of it is that ilya is naturally sadistic and psychopathic, he doesn’t care if others suffer. even if he hadn’t become a serial rapist and killer, he would’ve had a clear disregard for others. he does justify himself and ignores his obvious hypocrisy. he realizes how much of a hypocrite he is, so it’s not that he’s an idiot or blind; it’s more of that he doesn’t give a damn about how selfish or contradictory he’s being.

you’re right that he thinks that he’s allowed to hurt others because the world hurt him, but it’s a bit beyond that. so for your question ‘why hurt others if you know how bad it can be’ – he gets off on it. even if he wasn’t the one committing crimes, he’d still get off on it. he’s similar to an incel that just stays in his room, complains about how the world is unfair, and watches porn all day, except more attractive, less whiny, actually gets sex bc he’s charming and doesn’t show his misanthropic side, and is into way darker porn than most incels probably are.

question: How would Eu-jin handle Illya taking an interest in his darling? I feel like things would get ugly fast.

answer: luckily, ilya doesn’t exist in the same universe as eu-jin or any of my other ocs! he’s human, so he’d get ripped to shreds pretty fast, especially by the overly-obsessive and protective supernatural (gumiho) eu-jin who hasn’t seen his darling in literal millennia. 

yuu wouldn’t even bother cannibalizing ilya, as he usually does with his prey; he’d find the Ripper far too disgusting to put in his own body, but he would torture ilya as painfully and slowly as possible. ripping off his fingernails one by one, removing his tongue so he can’t scream (much like the way ilya chokes his darlings), etc.

...so yeah, as soon as the hyper-aware eu-jin realizes that ilya is looking at the former’s darling with interest, it’d get ugly real fast.

question: What if when Ilya tried to kill one of his darlings but they manage to fight back and escape? I just see that throwing him for a real curve ball so I was curious to how he'd react.

answer: he’d be furious at first. to him, running away is the ultimate act of denying his love -- but, he’s a man that appreciates some fun every now and then. while he isn’t fond of darlings that fight back (especially when he’s about to kill them), having a darling who spices his life up every now and then is exhilarating. he’ll decide to play along with this darling’s little game of cat and mouse, and to be honest, he finds the increased risk of getting caught by authorities (should the darling get that far) fun. as i’ve mentioned before, ilya knows how much of a hypocrite he is and has long come to terms with his inevitable karma and death, he just doesn’t care enough to change his habits.

[too-many-baes]

Guardian Angel

Pairing: fem!reader x Castiel

Warning(s): None that come to mind, angst for days

Word Count: 3K

Summary: Y/N recounts her life of having Castiel as her guardian angel

Part Two

A/N: I wrote this one forever ago but I’m reposting it cause IDK it just holds a special place in my heart.

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

You don’t know when it was exactly that you first noticed it, but as a little girl you always felt safe. When you’re four obviously there’s not a lot that you can be afraid of, asides spiders and the dark, but you always felt this overwhelming feeling of safety. You realised when you were six that it was because of your special friend, as you had always called him. 

You had been playing on a playground on an ordinary summer’s afternoon when your normally very on guard mother had gotten a work call which caused her to step away from you so she could hear it better. You had been swinging on the monkey bars when your hand had slipped and you fell right from the top to the ground, hitting yourself on the bars as you went. You crawled out from underneath clutching your right arm. Being as young as you were you had never felt pain anything like it, and you were crying and calling for your mother, but she had wandered too far away to hear you. There was a strange rustling sound and suddenly a man was in front of you, a man you were sure you had never seen before. He reached forward and touched his fingers to your forehead and immediately all of your pain was gone.

“Who are you?”

“I’m a friend” was all he gave in response. Although the man’s appearance seemed rather ordinary there was something magical about him. You thought at the time he must be a wizard or maybe even an alien.

“Y/N! Y/N!” You looked over seeing your mother rushing towards you in a panic. “My arm doesn’t hurt anymore, how’d you do that?” You asked him. He simply stood and replied “I’m special Y/N”, before turning to leave. “Wait don’t go!” You yelled out to the man. He turned around to face you once more. “Don’t worry Y/N, I’ll always be here.”

Your mother standing in front of you forced your eyes away from him, and when you had looked back at him he was nowhere to be seen.

“Y/N who was that man?” Your clearly angry mother demanded. “He’s my special friend mummy. I fell and then he touched my head and I wasn’t sore anymore!” She looked aghast at this news, and tried spying the man, but as you knew he was nowhere to be found.

“Y/N how many times have I told you, you don’t talk to strangers, okay? Who knows what could’ve happened to you!” She exclaims, clutching you to her. You had tried to argue and make your case that this man was in fact a friend, he’d helped you, but your mother had thrown words at you that you didn’t understand like ‘naïve’ and ‘unsuspecting’ and told you to never talk to another stranger again.

That particular incident had been forgotten by your mother, but you never forgot your special friend. For months you would watch out for him in the streets, looking at every face that passed in the hopes that you would see your special friend again. But you didn’t until you were 9.

Your whole family had gone to Disneyland and at some point during the excitement of being there you had lost them. You had looked and looked for them but you couldn’t find them anywhere. Hopelessness washed over you until you sat on a bench and started to cry into your hands. There was a rustling noise and suddenly you could feel someone beside you. You looked up to see a man sitting on the bench next to you, watching you intently. This man was different to the one you had met at six, but somehow you knew he was the same, that this was your special friend. You smiled at the sight of him and he had returned it, although slightly more stiff.

“Come, let’s find your family.” You had walked around the park with him, putting your hand in his to make sure you wouldn’t get lost again. He led you straight to your family, where they had been worriedly searching for you. Your mother ran to you and hugged you, and when she had released you to thank the man for returning you, he was gone. Just like last time. You explained that it was your special friend, that he had come to help you. Your mother and your father had said that you were making up stories.

High school was hard for you. You had always struggled making friend and you had hoped that moving schools would make it better. How hard you had been. Your first day of freshman year had been awful. You had gotten lost on your way to first period, had no one to sit with at lunch, and you has wandered through the halls with your head down and your books clutched firmly against your chest. You had felt like you were suffocating, like all eyes were firmly on you all day. The run home had been a blur due to the tears in your eyes. You had run past your concerned parent’s right up the stairs to your room, locking the door and throwing yourself onto your bed.

The sobs racked your body and you were crying so loudly that you almost didn’t hear the rustling sound. You felt the bed dip and you looked up to see a stranger sitting on your bed. He looked different but you knew it was the same man that had appeared to you twice before. You impulsively threw your arms around his neck, crying onto his shoulder. At first he had not reacted, but then he gingerly put an arm around your shoulders as he waiting for your sobs to cease.

When your cries had died down you released him from your vice grip and looked up at him.

“I like this one.” You said, referring to the man he was this time. This man was handsome, far more attractive than what he had been previously. He was in a trench coat wearing a blue tie, but it was his face you were looking at. He had brown hair and the most dazzling blue eyes you had ever seen, they seemed to sparkle at you. “Why is it that you look different every time I see you?” You asked, sitting back down on your bed. This was the longest he had ever hung around before, and you couldn’t quite believe that he hadn’t fled yet.

“I have gone back to heaven after I came to see you prior, so I have gotten a new vessel each time.” He stated matter of factly, as if that should make perfect sense to you.

“Wait, to heaven? Does that make you-” “An angel, yes.” You stared bewildered at him. “So are you my… guardian angel?” You asked, feeling ridiculous at the suggestion. “Yes.”

You were amazed, all those years not knowing what he was, and now you finally had your answer. “Do angels have names?”

“Yes they do.” You couldn’t help but giggle at him. He was so awkward with the way he talked and held himself, making it very obvious that the ways things were done in heaven must be very different to down here on Earth. “So, what’s yours then?” “Castiel.” You smiled at this, Castiel is a pretty name, you had thought to yourself.

“So if you’re my guardian angel, why have I only seen you a couple of times?” You couldn’t help but ask.

“Well, ordinarily we are not supposed to make ourselves known to our humans but… seeing you in suffering causes me great pain.” He had only ever appeared to you during times that you were upset, so it made sense. “So, you’re a rebel then?” You asked cheekily, the smile on your face causing him to smile too. “I guess I am, yes.”

There was a long silence before Castiel cleared his throat. “I should get going, before they realise I’m gone.” Sadness filled you. Having him there had made you forget all about how awful you’d been feeling. “Castiel?” His eyes met yours again. “Can you come back… tomorrow?” You asked. He seemed to think on it for a second before nodding. “If that is what you want. Pray to me and I will come.” “Promise?” He furrowed his brows, unclear what you meant. “Like, you swear you’ll come?” He nodded in understanding. “I promise.” With that and another rustling sound he was gone.

You never would’ve gotten through your freshman and sophomore year if it wasn’t for Castiel. You never really made any friends, but at the end of the day when you were alone in your room , you knew you had Cas if you needed him.

Initially you had prayed to him every night for a week, but after that he had said it was getting too risky for him, that the angels would surely notice his absence. Little did you know that Castiel had loved that week, and loved knowing that he was helping you. Never the less, you prayed to him weekly throughout freshman and sophomore year, and he always kept his promise, he always arrived. When you prayed to him he was there. Most of the time you just wanted someone to talk to, but Castiel was always willing to oblige, enjoying your weekly talks as much as you did. While he was always awkward, he warmed up a little and enjoyed learning about your life, being able to engage in conversation without being so standoffish. Something was different now and you had no idea why but for some reason he kept appearing as the same man.

Everything changed in junior year when you met your boyfriend. Adam was new to town and was a senior. For some reason during lunch he came to join you at your table. You normally sat alone, but having no good reason to turn down his request you agreed, drawn in by his charisma. He sat with you every day from then on. He was nice and he made you laugh, something that you never normally did at school. He became quite popular, and before you knew it you had friends. Sure, mostly they hung out with you for Adam’s benefit, but you had friends for the first time in your life and it felt so good.

Your parents were happy too. For the first time ever, you were going out on the weekends, and much to your parent’s delight you had Adam over for dinners. You could see on their faces how happy they were for you. When Adam asked you out one day after school you said yes. It seemed like the natural step to take. You liked Adam, you really did. He was a really genuine nice guy, but there was something off. When your lips touched his, it didn’t feel like you had thought it would. You weren’t expecting fireworks or anything, but you expected something. Anything. When you looked into his eyes they didn’t sparkle like someone else that you knew. Romance isn’t like in the movies and fairy tales though, and you had to keep reminding yourself of that.

You thought of Cas all the time, he was suck in your brain like gum under a bus stop bench. You never seemed to be able to find the time to pray to him, there was always your friends or homework or Adam. You missed your angel. You wondered often if he was watching you, if he could see how much better you were doing. You missed his awkwardness and his tie, the small smiles he gave you. But most of all you missed his eyes, his bright sparkling eyes that you could get lost in.

He missed you too it seemed, as one day when you had just gotten out of school an unexpected rustling sound made you spin around. There he was, standing right behind you. Excitement washed over you as you ran to him, leaping to hug him. He caught you and spun you around, both of you laughing. He set you back down on the footpath as you smiled up at the familiar and comforting face you had come to know.

“I’ve missed you Cas.” You said, you both beginning to walk home. He looked at you and you couldn’t believe how long it had been since you’d looked into his crystal blues.

“I’ve missed you too Y/N.” He said, his gruff voice setting you at ease like it always did. You filled him in on everything that had been happening in your life. You told him of Adam and the friends you were hanging out with and he smiled the whole time, happy to see you happy. You enquired about his life in heaven, and he had stated that it was tense and did not elaborate. Sooner than you’d have liked you were at your front door.

“So... I guess this is the part when you leave again, huh?” You asked, looking up at him through your lashes. He nodded solemnly, as he wanted to stay as much you. He had missed your company, and had felt upset at the fact you hadn’t prayed to him in a while, not that he’d ever tell you that, or that he even knew how to describe what he was feeling either.

You stood on your tiptoes and wrapt your arms around his neck, his going around your waist. As you buried your face in his neck you relished in the familiar comfort his frame gave you, not realising how truly you had been missing him until then.

“I’m sorry I haven’t prayed recently Cas, there’s just been so much-” you started saying against his neck. “Y/N you don’t have to apologize. I’m your guardian, I’m here when you need, you just haven’t needed me.” As matter of fact as he sounded, the words sent a pang of guilt through you. You opened your mouth to correct him, to tell him that you always needed him, that you were sure you always would, but just as you had pulled back to tell him he had frozen and looked at the ground with his brows furrowed. The tell-tale signs he was listening to angel radio.

“I’m sorry Y/N I have to go.” He said, the look on his face almost asking your permission. “That’s okay. Goodbye Castiel.” With a signature nod and a quick rustle he was gone. You already missed his presence, but you went to sleep on cloud nine, replaying your conversations in your head and reliving the feeling of being in his arms.

You went from the highest of highs to the lowest of lows the next day at school. You had no idea what had happened but nobody was talking to you. Your friends were giving you evil glares and you could find solace in no one. You had eventually found Adam, relieved to see a friendly face. The relief washed away when you received a cold hard stare from him. Turns out someone had seen your hug with Castiel, and rumours had spread that you were cheating on Adam. As much as you begged and pleaded, Adam didn’t believe you were innocent. You spent the day listening to hushed whispers about yourself stating that you were a cheat and a liar.

It was all too much, you had burst through the school doors and started to run home. It felt as though their venomous words and deathly stares were stuck to you, following you down the street. You ran to your room locking the door and collapsing onto the bed.

“Castiel, I need you. Please Cas, I need you here.” You had managed to say through your sobs. You had waited and cried and pleaded but Castiel broke his promise for the first time. You went to sleep that night defeated. You were right back where you started, no friends, no boyfriend, but worst of all, no Castiel.

It’s been three years since then. You still live with your parents and you hold down a job at the retro café in town. After Cas never showed that night you had tried praying to him regularly, but when you never got a response, your prayers lessened until you had given up all together. That’s not to say you didn’t think of him though. Whenever you poured a customer a coffee or paid for your bus fare, he was right there in your mind, those crystal blues etched into your frontal lobe.

It was another dull, Cas-less night and you were perched on the sofa reading a book. Your parents were out for date night, so you were using the silence to try and envelop yourself in the written word but you were failing miserably. A knock at the door gave you an excuse to put the dreadful book down.

When you swung the door open you were greeted with two rather intimidating looking strangers, both dressed in plaid and several layers.

“Y/N?” The shorter one questioned. You nodded wearily, anxious as to why these men were at your door. They exchanged a look with each other before looking back at you. “You need to come with us.” You snorted at the bold statement, earning an angry look from the shorter one.

“Yea, I’m not going anywhere with you two and unless you get off of my porch in two seconds I’m calling the police.” Right when you were about to slam the door in their faces the taller one reached out to hold the door, saying something that stopped you in your tracks.

“We know Castiel.” “How do you know that name?” You immediately questioned.

“We’re friends of his, he sent us here to get you.” You had heard his words but they making no sense to you. “What do you mean, why do you need to get me?”

The shorter one huffed. “Look we don’t have time to explain, we can do that on the way. We just have to get you somewhere safe and we need to do it now.” His words were urgent enough to cut through your stunned stupor. You nodded before running inside, packing a bag of some essentials without actually knowing how long you would be gone, and writing a note to your parents.

You left the house with them on a hope. As you drove to an unknown destination you couldn’t stop your mind from spinning. Amongst all of the confusion and rush of emotions there was one thing that grounded you.

You fell asleep in the backseat to the hum of the engine and the memory of sparkling topaz eyes and safe trench clad arms.

[weekendwarriorblog]

The Weekend Warrior Feb. 14, 2020 – SONIC THE HEDGEHOG, FANTASY ISLAND, THE PHOTOGRAPH, DOWNHILL, OLYMPIC DREAMS

It’s Valentine’s Day on Friday and President’s Day on Monday, which means that this weekend is going to be absolutely nuts in terms of getting four new wide releases.  Last week’s Birds of Prey did not do even remotely close to where I predicted/projected – almost half!! -- and here I thought all those raves reviews might help, but apparently not. It will still make money with its global release but it’s gonna fall short even of last year’s Shazam! and many have already started questioning whether an R-rating is the way to go with a movie semi-targeted towards younger women. (Warner Bros. has already sent out a mandate to theaters to change the title of the movie to Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey. I cannot believe that it took this long for them to figure out what a terrible title they had previously!)

With the four-day weekend, it’s very likely that Paramount Pictures’ SONIC THE HEDGEHOG, will prevail, as it brings the beloved SEGA video game character to the big screen with James Marsdenand Jim Carrey, the latter starring in one of his first big-screen appearances in a while. It should be an easy victor this weekend in a market that could desperately use another strong family film.

For those unfamiliar with SEGA’s flagship video game “mascot,” Sonic has appeared in all sorts of other media including animated series and comic books, so one can say that the character is almost but not quite as well known and popular as Nintendo’s Pokemon, which has had a much wider reach in terms of both games and cartoons.

Of course, it’s impossible not to look at Sonic the Hedgehog and completely ignore the relative success of last year’s Pokemon: Detective Pikachu, which had the added benefits of a popular A-list star in Ryan Reynoldsand a summer release. That opened with $54.4 million and made $144 million domestic and $429.7 million worldwide.

On the other hand, Sonic does have Jim Carrey, who hasn’t been in an American wide release since the 2014 sequel Dumb and Dumber To, which only made about $156 million worldwide. At one point, Carrey was one of the biggest box office stars with multiple $240 million plus domestic blockbusters. Maybe the kids won’t be as invested in Carrey’s Mr. Robotnik, but many parents who grew up with Carrey’s comedies will be happy to see him in such a perfect role.

The Presidents Day weekend allows one extra day for parents with kids needing something to do with them sans school. Even so, the biggest movies on the weekend have been superhero movies, including Black Panther, Deadpool and Fifty Shades of Grey, the latter two definitely not for kids. (Daredeviland Ghost Rider also fared well on the weekend.) In fifth place for the weekend is Warner Bros’ The LEGO Movie, which made $62.5 million over the four-day weekend, but that was in its SECOND WEEKEND! So yeah, lots of money to be had for a family movie even though the biggest opener was Christopher Columbus’ Percy Jackson and the Olympians: The Lightning Thief (now on Broadway!), which opened with $38.7 million ten years ago.

I have to imagine that Sonic is more popular, and even with the tragic misstep of that first trailer last year which got such a negative reaction to Sonic’s appearance, Paramount delayed the movie and went back to the CG drawing board, there will be enough fans interested to see how he translates to the screen that $40 million over the weekend should be doable even with three other wide releases. I also don’t think reviews will be so bad, so it should be good for $100 million plus.

Mini-Review: For whatever reason, Sonic the Hedgehog is the kind of movie that lazy critics love to dump on, maybe because it’s a kids’ movie or because it’s a movie based on a video game they played as kids, or more likely, a character their kids know from popular cartoons and comic books. It doesn’t help that judgments were mostly cast when the first trailer hit last year and Sonic looked different than what people expected. Regardless, I went into the movie with very low expectations, maybe because I really had no passionate connection to the character despite being generally familiar with some of the games.

We meet Sonic as he’s being chased by robots, and we flash back to him as a kid on a planet where he’s able to zoom around freely, until he’s discovered by predators that are hunting him (it’s never explained why), so his mentor owl gives Sonic gold rings that can take him off-planet. Sonic ends up in a small town called Green Hills where he watches the townsfolk in hiding for years, including a local police officer (James Marsden) and his wife Maddie (Tika Sumpter). The former eventually discovers Sonic after he causes a major power outage that gets the attention of the government and its genius robotics scientist, Dr. Robotnik (Jim Carrey).

Despite not having much previous connection to Sonic, it’s hard for me not to appreciate this character, because I’ve been known to zip around myself. I also enjoyed Sonic’s haste since who knows when we might see that movie based on one of my favorite comic characters, The Flash. Sonic does a good job capturing the intensity and yes, speed, of having speed powers in quite a masterful way compared to previous attempts, giving me hope that a Flash movie is possible. (Granted, they do rip-off the fun thing Quicksilver does in the recent X-movies by slowing everything around Sonic down to a halt, but it’s still amusing.)

Probably the most genius idea by Sonic’s filmmakers was to convince Jim Carrey to return to the big screen as Dr. Robotnik. He quickly reminds us how hilarious he can be when going as fully into a character as he does this one, and it’s prime Carey vs. the semi-lazy Carrey that made movies in the early ‘00s. Robotnik is a super-genius with no patience for anyone on a lower level of intellect (aka everyone), and Carrey takes that idea to the utmost extreme. (It’s hard not to compare what he’s doing in this movie to what Ewan McGregor does in Birds of Prey and see how Carey does it effortlessly whereas McGregor was clearly trying too hard.)

That’s not to take away from Marsden and Sumpter, Sonic’s other prominent human co-stars, who bring such a warmth and humanity to those characters that you rarely even think that you’re watching them interact with a fully CG-character. (Kudos to Ben Schwartz and what he brings to Sonic as his voice.)

Sure, the plot can be a bit predictable with certain parts clearly geared to kids, but there’s also slew of pop references that display some real talent in the writing of the movie so that it can be watched and enjoyed by people of all ages.

Is it possible that Sonic the Hedgehog is the first thoroughly entertaining movie of the year? Yes, indeedy. (Definitely stay through the first bunch of credits if you are a Sonic fan!)

Rating: 8/10

One of the more interesting releases of the weekend is BLUMHOUSE’S FANTASY ISLAND (Sony Pictures Releasing), which as you can guess is a PG-13 horror version of the popular ‘80s show, starring Michael Peña as Mr. Rouke, the head of a program in which people can pay lots of money to achieve their greatest wishes… with a catch! Since this is Blumhouse, you probably know that the catch involves some sort of horror/thriller premise, and if you’ve seen the trailer, you might get some idea how it works… or not. (I wish I can say more but I’m under embargo!)

The rest of the cast is decent including Maggie Q (from Mission: Impossible 3), Lucy Hale, Portia Doubleday, Michael Rooker, Ryan Hansen, Jimmy O . Yang and more, plus it’s directed by Jeff Wadlow, who last did Blumhouse’s Truth Or Dare (a very bad movie!) and then Kick Ass 2 before that. (He was supposed to direct Sony’s upcoming Bloodshot movie but he left that to do other things, like this.)

Unfortunately, Sony Pictures Releasing (another specialized imprint from the parent company?) seems to have taken a cue from Screen Gems by deciding not to screen the movie for critics until Thursday afternoon (just like with The Grudge!), plus there won’t be ANY Thursday previews for this. It’s a shame since… well, I can’t really tell you if I liked the movie or not since I’m under embargo until Friday. J

Either way, it seems like a strong enough counter to Sonic and Birds of Prey that it should be good for $15 million plus over the four days. Personally, I think it would have opened even bigger if Sony and Blumhouse had shown some balls and screened it for critics in advance, but what do I know? I’ve only written about this stuff for ALMOST TWENTY FUCKING YEARS! (Not sure I’m gonna review the movie but we’ll see.)

I know far less about Universal’s Valentine’s Day offering THE PHOTOGRAPH (Universal), which I guess is a romantic drama that’s targeting African-Americans looking for something to see on the biggest date nights of the year. In fact, we’ve seen some interesting hits on this weekend just by putting “Date” in the movie title, as was the case with Adam Sandler-Drew Barrymore’s 50 First Dates ($45.1 million four-day opening) and even Date Movie ($21.8 million), which satirized romantic movies. But the real winner has to be a movie that went all out for Valentine’s Day by actually going with the title Valentine’s Day, which helped it open with $63 million over the four-day weekend ten years ago. ($23.4 million of that was on Valentine’s Day alone!)

Since I won’t see The Photograph until Weds. night, I can only talk about the little bit of marketing I’ve seen and what’s out there. Apparently, this is more in the vein of Valentine’s Day in that it’s a series of intertwined romantic stories, but it has an impressive cast of African-American actors who are on the verge of breaking out such as the great LaKeith Stanfield and amazing Kelvin Harrison Jr., as well as Rob Morgan (from “Daredevil” and Mudbound) and Courtney B. Vance. I’d be neglect if I didn’t mention any of the women involved and having Issa Raefrom the TV show “Insecure” as the primary female lead is something that shouldn’t be ignored. Stanfield isn’t the only connection to Jordan Peele, though, asLil Rel Howery from Get Outis also in this movie as is Peele’s actual wife, Chelsea Peretti!

I actually had to double check to make sure Peele wasn’t one of the film’s producers, but no, this is from Will Packer, a producer who is responsible for so many huge hits among African-Americans that one of these days I won’t underestimate his drawing power, even though all three of his 2019 movies underdelivered, including the comedy Little (co-starring Rae), although did well compared to their lower budgets.

In that sense, The Photograph could be compared to Packer’s Screen Gems comedy About Last Night, which opened with $27.8 million in just over 2,200 theaters in 2014, but that also had the power of proven box office draw Kevin Hartto bring in audiences. I certainly don’t want to be accused of underestimating Packer again, but with such a generic title and premise (and next to no marketing?), I’m just not sure the movie will deliver despite being decent counter-programming for AA audiences. With that in mind, I think the movie will probably make somewhere between $12 and 14 million.

Then there’s DOWNHILL (Searchlight Studios), the new movie from The Way, Way Back directors Nat Faxon and Jim Rash (who also won the Oscar for cowriting Alexander Payne’s The Descendants), this one being a direct remake of Swedish filmmaker Ruben Östlund’s 2014 film Force Majeure.

In this version, Will Ferrell and Julia Louis-Dreyfus play a squabbling couple who travel to the alps with their kids, but after barely escaping an avalanche – one in which he runs away leaving his family behind – they start questioning their lives. The film also stars Zach Woods (also from “Veep”), Miranda Otto and Zoe Chao, and though it premiered at the Sundance Film Festival (just like the duo’s previous movie), it did not receive great reviews, as it currently sits at 48% on Rotten Tomatoes.

I don’t think that will matter since like Carey above, Ferrell hasn’t been oversaturating the market with movies in the past couple year, maybe because his last movie, Holmes & Watson, reteaming him with John C. Reilly from Step Brothers bombed with $41 million worldwide after horrifying reviews. Fortunately, Louis-Dreyfus is far more loved thanks to her run on “Seinfeld” and her Emmy-winning run on HBO’s “Veep,” and that should help get people into theaters despite all the competition aboe and below.

Searchlight (no more Fox!!) will be releasing the movie into roughly 1,500 theaters, a moderate release to see how it fares, and the extended holiday weekend (plus the chance of it attracting older moviegoers on Valentine’s Day) should help it make $5 million plus over the extended weekend.

Mini-Review: If you’re reading this review hoping for a play-by-play of how Downhill differs from Ruben Ostlund’s Force Majeure, then you’re bound to be disappointed, because a.) I don’t really remember it, b.) I wasn’t as big a fan of the movie as so many others, and c.) I’m going to assume that a lot of people never got around to seeing it.

In this version, it’s Ferrell and Louis-Dreyfus as Peter and Billie Stanton, and there’s much more focus on their roles as parents and the responsibility that goes with that. Once again, Peter runs off when a controlled avalanche comes their way, but they don’t really talk about it so much even as it hangs over their heads.

Nat Faxon and Jim Rash once again find a manageable way of making “dramedy” out of a situation, making sure not to go for constant visual laughs or the zaniness Ferrell usually goes for. (Granted, we can totally believe him as a careless father/husband who does dumb things.) In fact, Ferrell plays his role fairly toned down, which allows Louis-Dreyfus to shine in what’s, oddly, a quite rare movie appearance. How they deal with the aftermath of the avalanche comes to a head when Pete’s work-buddy Zack (Zach Woods) arrives with a ladyfriend (Zoe Chao) allows the two to go at each other. It doesn’t get quite as intense as Marriage Story, but it’s obvious that they both have reached the point in their marriage where they need a separation.

It is kind of amusing that Miranda Otto almost steals her scenes with the two leads because she’s so funny as a hot-to-trot European guest they keep running into and who sets Billie up with a hot Italian ski trainer. There’s a few other funny characters but it mostly stays on Ferrell and Louis-Dreyfus either alone or together, and that’ll be enough for most people.

Faxon and Rash find interesting ways to play with the basic premise, although Downhill is very much comedy with a lower-case “c,” and like the original movie, it should lead to some interesting conversations.

Rating: 7/10

This week’s Top 10 should look something like this… (bearing in mind that the below are all four-day projections). It’ll be interesting to see if the name change for “Birds of Prey” will make a difference, but look for NEON’s Parasite to make its first foray into the top 10 this weekend after 19 (!!!) weeks in theaters, thanks to its Best Picture win last Sunday.

1. Sonic the Hedgehog (Paramount) - $44 million N/A (up $1.5 million)* 2. Harley Quinn: Birds of Prey  (Warner Bros) - $20 million -39% (down $1.5 million)* 3. Blumhouse’s Fantasy Island (Sony) - $15.8 million N/A (up $.3 million)* 4. The Photograph (Universal) - $13.5 million N/A 5. Bad Boys for Life (Sony) - $8 million -35% (up .2 million)* 6. 1917 (Universal) - $7 million -23% 7. Downhill (Searchlight) - $5.6 million N/A (up .2 million)* 8. Parasite (NEON) - $5 million +300% (up .4 million and one place) 9. Dolittle  (Universal) - $4.5 million -30% (down .4 million and one place) 10. Jumanji: The Next Level  (Sony) - $4.2 million -24%

*UPDATE: A few minor updates based on actual theater counts with Parasite being expanded into 2,000 theaters, the widest its been so far. I feel like most of the new movies will do well, including Downhill (which will be in 2,301 theaters vs. the 1,500 estimated earlier in the week). Anyway, it should be a fairly hearty and robust weekend at the box office.

LIMITED RELEASES

Before we get to the regular limited releases opening Friday, I want to mention two special releases for Weds. night, Trafalgar Releasing is giving a one-night screening of The Doors: Break on Thru - A Celebration of Ray Manzarek, which I haven’t seen but I’m definitely interested in as a fan of the ‘60s group (and Manzarek’s keyboard work). You can get tickets for that here. Also, Kino Lorber is giving one-night release of Emily Taguchi & Jake Lefferman’s doc After Parkland to commemorate the second anniversary of the shootings at the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida that killed 17 people and began a nationwide student movement for gun control. It’s a fairly sobering and emotional doc, as you can imagine, especially since so little has been done to prevent incidents like this even two years later.

My favorite movie of the weekend is Jeremy Teicher’s OLYMPIC DREAMS ( IFC Films), opening at the IFC Center Friday. It stars Nick Kroll (who you’ll know from “The League,” “Oh, Hello” and other things) and (actual Olympian distance runner) Alexi Pappas, who you may or may not be as familiar with. Pappas plays Penelope, an American competitor in the 2018 Winter Olympics in South Korea, who is feeling lonely and unable to connect with others until she meets Kroll’s volunteer dentist, Ezra. While at first, it wouldn’t seem like they would have anything in common, they spend a night hanging out and while some might be expecting something romantic, since this is opening on Valentine’s Day, well I won’t ruin what does or doesn’t happen, k?  Either way, it’s a wonderful film co-written by Teichter, Pappas and Kroll, and if that sounds like a familiar formula, then it is indeed the one Richard Linklater used for his sequels to Before Sunrise with Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy. Olympic Dreams isn’t nearly as deep and philosophical (or wordy), but the two actors are so wonderful together, and they actually filmed this in the Athletes Village at the Olympics (the first film to do so) which adds some authenticity to the sweet little movie. (There will be a sneak preview Weds night at the IFC Center with Teicher, Kroll and Pappas all in attendance!)

Danish filmmaker Lone Scherfig returns with THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS (Vertical), a star-studded ensemble piece starring Zoe Kazan, Andrea Riseborough, Caleb Landry Jones, Jay Baruchel and Bill Nighy (who appeared in Lone’s previous film Their Finest). This is a New York City story about six strangers whose lives intersect and mingle while trying to find help, hope and love. I know it sounds like the Crash-style movie we’ve seen far too many times before, but I have faith in Ms. Scherfig and hopefully I’ll have a chance to watch it in the next day or two.

I also still haven’t gotten around to watching Kenji Tanagaki’s action-comedy ENTER THE FAT DRAGON (Go WELL USA), starring the always-amazing Donnie Yen as police officer Zhu, who is sent to Japan on a routine police escort of a suspect… who mysteriously dies, forcing Zhu to call upon a former undercover inspector to help solve the murder. I’m assuming the latter is the “Fat Dragon” and Yen didn’t gain 200 lbs. for the part.

Opening at the Quad Cinemaon Friday and in L.A. on Feb. 21 is Dimitri de Clercq’sFrench/Belgian film You Go to My Head (First Run Features) about an architect who finds a young woman lost, alone and in a fog in the Sahara after a mysterious accident, but when he takes her to the hospital, he claims to be her husband. As she gets better, he creates an elaborate life to fill in the life they shared which she can no longer remember. It also sounds perfect for Valentine’s Day, so you have plenty of options!

I didn’t have too much to say about Céline Sciamma’s PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE (NEON), because I think I wrote about it last year, and I haven’t seen the movie since the New York Film Festival. Set in the 18thCentury, it’s about a woman painter who travels to a remote island where she’s commissioned to do a painting of a grieving widow, who she ends up falling in love with. I probably should see the movie again as it didn’t really connect with me the first time, but I can totally understand why others love it so much. (Unfortunately, the 7:10 screening on Friday night at the Angelika with a QnA moderated by my pal, Valerie Complex, is already sold out!)

The second documentary in the last year about a man named “Cunningham” (a different one this time) is Mark Bozek’s The Times of Bill Cunningham (Greenwich) about the famed photographer who died in 2016… and whom I know even less about than I did dancer/choreographer Merce Cunningham. Apparently, he was a New York Timesphotographer for four decades and had a long relationship with First Lady Jackie Kennedy, and this doc is even narrated by Sarah Jessica Parker! It also opens at the Angelika and City Cinemas 1, 2 & 3, and maybe L.A.?

Due to the usual conflicts and circumstances, I wasn’t able to see Lisa Barros D'Sa and Glenn Leyburn’s Ordinary Love (Bleecker Street) as planned, but it’s an appropriately-timed romantic drama starring Liam Neeson and Lesley Manville as a middle-aged couple who must deal with her beast cancer diagnosis. I actually am interested in seeing this, especially to see Neeson back in serious drama mode (it’s been a while), so hopefully I’ll have a chance to see this down the road.

Also opening Friday is Tanya Wexler’s Buffaloed (Magnolia), starring Zoey Deutch as Peg Dahl, a young woman living in Buffalo, the debt collection capital of America but hopes to get out of town and into an Ivy League university. When she’s accepted to her top choice but can’t afford the tuition, she gets pulled into the rope of debt collection.  Also starring Judy Greer, Germaine Fowler, Noah Reid and Jai Courtney, it will open at New York’s Quad Cinema, the Loz Feliz 3 in L.A., Buffalo’s North Park Theater and more theaters.

Opening at the Quad Cinemaon Friday and in L.A. on Feb. 21 is Dimitri de Clercq’sFrench/Belgian film You Go to My Head (First Run Features) about an architect who finds a young woman lost, alone and in a fog in the Sahara after a mysterious accident, but when he takes her to the hospital, he claims to be her husband. As she gets better, he creates an elaborate life to fill in the life they shared which she can no longer remember. It also sounds perfect for Valentine’s Day, so you have plenty of options!

Another SXSW 2019 movie is Richard Wong’s Come As You Are (Samuel Goldwyn), starring Gabourey Sidibe, Grant Rosenmeyer, Ravi Patel, Hayden Szeto and Janeane Garofolo. The three guys in the middle play men with disabilities who go on a road trip to a Montreal brothel to get away from their suffocating parents. Sidibe (from Precious) plays their travelling nurse who drives them across the border to help them lose their virginity. This is an English remake of the Belgian Film Hasta La Vista about the real-life adventure of Asta Philpot.

Sara Zandieh’s indie rom-com A Simple Wedding (Blue Fox Entertainment) also opens in theaters and On Demand on Valentine’s Day, this one following an Iranian-American named Nousha (Tara Grammy) whose hopes for a Persian wedding are dashed when she falls for a bisexual artist/DJ named Alex (Christopher O’Shea). She has to make sure her parents don’t realize they’re living together before marriage. The film also stars Shohreh Aghdashloo, Rita Wilson, Maz Jobrani, Peter McKenzie and James Eckhouse.

LOCAL FESTIVALS

Some cool festivals and series in New York are happening this weekend to offer competition for all the choices above.

Let’s begin with the “Winter Showcase” for one of my favorite annual film festivals, the New York Asian Film Festivalsubtitled “Love at First Bite,” since they’re including a special Valentine’s Day screening of the Korean hit Extreme Job followed by a reception including delicious Korean food. The rest of the line-up is probably more appropriate for the rep section as it will including Asian classics like Stephen Chow’s God of Cookery (1996), Ang Lee’s Eat Drink Man Woman (1994),Tampopo (1985) on Saturday, as well as Ritesh Batra’s amazing The Lunchbox and more on Sunday.

Up at Film at Lincoln Center, there’s the annual “Neighboring Scenes,” the annual celebration of “New Latin American Cinema,” opening Friday with Joanna Reposi Garibaldi’s Lemebel, a documentary about writer/visual artist Pedro Lemebel and his controversial performances amidst Chilean upheaval. Of course, I’m most interested in the Brazilian offerings, but sadly, there just isn’t enough time in the day/week to see as many of the films in this series I’m curious about including the New York premiere of Ema from Chile’s Pablo Larrain (Neruda, Jackie). Click on the link above and check out that line-up.

Further North (in terms of global geography) but South (in terms of New York City geography) is this year’s “Canada Now” series, taking place at the IFC Center from Thursday through Sunday. It will kick off with Guest of Honor, the new film from Canada’s Atom Egoyan, starring David Thewlis and Laysla De Oliveira as father and music school teacher daughter whose lives become complicated when she’s put in prison for earlier crimes. There are seven other movies in this series, most of them getting their U.S. debuts, so that’s another alternative for what could be a busy movie-going weekend.

STREAMING AND CABLE

Lots of stuff premiering on streaming services this weekend including the British animated sequel A Shaun the Sheep: Farmageddon on Netflix, as well as the rom-com sequel To All the Boys: PS I Still Love You, which will premiere on Weds and may end up being the “Netflix and chill” choice for many young people on V-Day. (I honestly never got around to seeing the first movies of either of those yet!)

Over on Hulu, they’re premiering the gender-swapped series loosely based on Nick Horny’s High Fidelity, this one starring Zoe Kravitz, the daughter of Lisa Bonet, who appeared opposite John Cusack in Stephen Frears’ adaptation of Hornby’s book from 2000 that was one of my favorite movies that year! Wait a second, even though Kravitz plays a character named Rob, just like Cusack, is she meant to be the daughter of Cusack and Bonet’s characters in that movie? That would be intense! (But probably not. I’m sure I’ll check it out.)

REPERTORY

METROGRAPH (NYC):

The Metrograph’s Valentine’s Dayweekend offerings include Casablanca (1942), Howard Hawks’ 1944 film To Have and  Have Not, the 1932 film Trouble in Paradise, Douglas Sirk’s Written on the Wind (1956) and another screening of Makoto Shinkai’s animated Your Name. The “To Hong Kong with Love” series continues through the end of February, this weekend screening Yellowing (2016), which I haven’t seen.This weekend, the  Welcome To Metrograph: Reduxwill offer two more screenings of Edward Yang’s 4-hour 1991 film A Brighter Summer Day, while Late Nites at Metrograph  will screen Nagisa Oshima’s 1978 film Empire of Passion, also which I have never seen! Rounding out the weekend’s Asian offering is the Playtime: Family Matineesoffering of Yoshifumi Kondo’s 1995 animated film Whisper of the Heart, which guess what? I haven’t seen that either! Clearly, I need to try to get to one of the four movies, right?  

ALAMO DRAFTHOUSE BROOKLYN (NYC)

Tonight’s “Weird Wednesday” is the Susan Sarandon-James Spader romantic drama White Palace (1990). Oddly, the Alamo is CLOSED on Valentine’s Day.. is this true?!? On Sunday is a special “Drew Believers: Drew Barrymore Movie Marathon” with four of Barrymore’s movies in 35mm! (As of this writing, there are a few seats available near the front.) Monday’s “Fist City” is Sam Raimi’s The Quick and The Dead from 1995 and that’s quickly selling out as well. The “Terror Tuesday” is James Gunn’s hilarious Slither and then next week’s “Weird Wednesday” is the 1987 Ken Russell film Gothic.

THE NEW BEVERLY (L.A.):

Wednesday’s “Afternoon Classic” is the 1961 Oscar-winning musical West Side Story. Weds and Thursday night’s double feature is Robert Altman’s 1971 film McCabe & Mrs. Miller and Sydney Pollack’s 1972 film Jeremiah Johnson, starring Robert Redford. This week’s “Freaky Friday” offering is the classic The Bride of Frankenstein (1935, while Friday’s midnight movie is True Romanceand Saturday’s midnight is 1978’s Mean Dog Blues in 16mm! This weekend continues the “Kiddee Matinee” run with the Alfonso Cuaron-directed Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Monday’s matinee of David Lynch’s Wild at Heart is already sold out but that night is a Robert Clouse double feature of The Pack(1977) and Darker than Amber (1970). Tuesday’s Grindhouse double feature is 1976’s Sky Riders and 1981’s Force: Five.  

EGYPTIAN THEATRE (LA):

Thursday is a “Black Voices” double feature of Car Wash (1976) and Cooley High (1975) with guest including Bill Duke in person. John Sayles and Joe Dante will be on hand Friday night for a “John Sayles: Independent” double feature of Piranha (1978) and The Howling (1981). This weekend is the “HFPA Restoration Summit” including a Saturday afternoon presentation called “Serge Bromberg Presents from the Silent Era” with the Lobster Films founder, while the one and only Jane Fonda will be on-hand Saturday evening to present a 4k restoration of the 1972 film F.T.A., which she produced with Donald Sutherland. Saturday night is a screening of The Black Vampire, the 1953 Argentine adaptation of Fritz Lang’s M, and there’s more classic cinema on Sunday as part of the series.

AERO  (LA):

Thursday’s “Antiwar Cinema” matinee is Richard Attenborough’s Oh! What a Lovely War from 1969 with an all-star cast, while that night is a Eugene Levy/Christopher Guest double feature of A Might Windand For Your Consideration. The AERO is ALSO showing Casablancaon Valentine’s Day and then Saturday is another Levy/Guest double feature of Best in Show (2000)and Waiting for Guffman  (1996) with Levy doing a discussion between films. John Sayles and Frances McDormand will appear in person for a Sunday afternoon double feature of 1996’s Lone Star and 1999’s Limbo.

MUSEUM OF THE MOVING IMAGE (NYC):

MOMI is going a bit crazy with its Valentine’s offering but it’s a good one…Jane Fonda in 1968’s Barbarella as part of its new 2001-inspired series “See It Big! Outer Space”! (If MOMI wasn’t all the way in Astoria, I’d totally go.)  It will play again Sunday with Tarkovsky’s Solaris (1972) playing on Friday and Saturday and 1979’s Star Trek: The Motion Pictureon Sunday. Sunday will also be a repeat of Kubrick’s 1969 film 2001: A Space Odyssey in 70mm with a discussion before the movie between Doug Trumbull and Piers Bizony. There’s also the usual DCP screening of 2001on Saturday afternoon, as part of the exhibition. On Saturday, they’ll screen Marjane Satrapi’s excellent Persepolis(2007) as part of its “World of Animation.”

FILM FORUM (NYC):

Starting Friday, the Forum will be screening a DCP restoration of Luchino Visconti’s L’Innocente (1976), starring Giancarlo Giannini. This weekend’s “Film Forum Jr.” is Guys and Dolls from 1955, starring Marlon Brando, Jean Simmons and Frank Sinatra. (If you read this on Wednesday, you can catch Joseph Strick’s 1963 film The Balcony, starring Shelley Winters, Peter Falk and Lee Grant, in 35mm.

QUAD CINEMA (NYC):

The Quad’s run of Pandora and the Flying Dutchman continues through the weekend, and there will be Valentine’s Day screenings of Alex Cox’s Sid and Nancy on Thursday and Friday night. (How romantic!)

ANTHOLOGY FILM ARCHIVES (NYC):

The Anthology’s great “The Devil Probably: A Century of Satanic Panic” continues this weekend with screenings of Robert Eggers’ The Witch, Alan Parker’s Angel Heart, another screening of Rosemary’s Baby, as well as screenings of Race with the Devil on Weds. and Thursday night. I missed it last week but they’ve been showing Mark Rappaport’s 1975 film Mozart in Love the past week, as well.

ROXY CINEMA (NYC)

The Cage-athon continues Weds. with Neil Labute’s The Wicker Man (2006) and 2009’s Knowing on Thursday. Valentine’s Day sees screening of Baz Lurhmann’s Romeo + Juliet, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes, as well as the 1987 Nicolas Cage movie Moonstruck, co-starring Cher. Spike Jonez and Charlie Kaufman’s Adaptation (2003), starring Cage, repeats on Saturday.

NITEHAWK CINEMA  (NYC):

Williamsburg‘s “Uncaged” series continues Friday with last year’s Mandy at midnight and 1983’s Valley Girl on Saturday morning. Casabalanca is also playing at the Prospect Park on Thursday, and unrelated but Back to the Future will play there on Monday night. Billy Wilder’s 1954 film Sabrina, starring Bogart, Hepburn and Holden will play on Saturay morning.

IFC CENTER (NYC)

Weekend Classics: Luis Buñuel is back with Belle de Jour from 1967, starring Catherine Deneuve.  Waverly Midnights: Hindsight is 2020 will screen the animated Ghost in the Shell, while Late Night Favorites: Winter 2020 will also go with an Anime film, Paprika.

MOMA  (NYC):

Modern Matinees: Jack Lemmon is off Weds. and Thursday but will return Friday with Billy Wilder’s Irma La Douce (1963).

BAM CINEMATEK (NYC):

BAM will continue to show Horace Jenkins’ 1982 film Cane River through the weekend.

Next week, the second to last week of February (man, it flew right by!) will include Fox’s The Call of the Wild, starring Harrison Ford, and the horror sequel, Brahms: The Boy II.

[drink-n-watch]

We got somewhat buried in snow over the last few days. Actually, it’s not that impressive. It’s really a perfectly average amount of snow for February in Quebec and far from the huge snow storm they’ve been promising. In fact, it’s been sort of light on snow this year. In any case, it’s now a bright and sunny day and the gleaming, undisturbed white snow is reflecting everything so the glare coming through the window is crazy. You know that particular quality of sunlight off snow. It’s super sunny and cheerful and you can just tell it’s freezing outside. It’s a good day to stay indoors and watch anime. And this was a great episode for the occasion I might add. Before we get into it, how are you Crow?

Also, just so I don’t make him do it every time. This is a discussion of episode 80 of My Hero Academia. There will be some spoilers so if you haven’t seen it, you might want to do that first. Also, I will be taking plain text this week while Crow is in bold!

  I’m doing well, Irina. Thanks for asking! We just got a little snow here, too, but no sun. So it’s just gray outside. Weird snow, too — didn’t stick to the streets or sidewalks, but buried our cars. Well, my car. My wife’s car is in the garage.

Once more, the episode was essentially split into two halves. First off we needed to finish off that cliffhanger from last week. Bakugou and Todoroki, alongside Inasa and Camie are now faced with a gang of unruly superpowered children they need to rail in. This could have been a dicey situation, as we find out the childrens powers are way beyond that of past generations, but it was solved pretty quickly and thankfully without the need to explode any toddlers.

Our heroes simply created a playground for the kids using their own powers. They threw in a few tricks and a few pieces of advice here and there to calm the kids down. Before they knew it, they had won the class over and everyone was having a good time. It was an easy feel good scene, but it actually packed in a lot of world building and character development. Or rather it confirmed that development.

First we were introduced to the concept that powers are merging and evolving with each generation having more and more powerful quirks at younger ages. This could potentially become a serious problem as we have already seen the havoc that uncontrolled quirks can cause. And it’s a very interesting idea, this notion of a quirk event horizon. A point where so many individuals will have uncontrollably powerful quirks that they could viably wipe out a good portion of the population. Or alternatively that they would themselves not survive long enough to have children thereby creating a population crisis. In the MHA universe, it’s a credible premise that mankind could evolve itself into extinction.

That’s some pretty deep classic sci fi thought experiment. And it’s mighty sneaky of them to throw it into a narrative about the two most popular MHA pretty boys taking care of a bunch of kids. What do you make of it Crow?

It felt the same way to me — classic science fiction “what if.” I’ve often referenced Dune in my reviews, and I think there’s a case to be made that the scenario you just outlined, where the children don’t survive long enough to produce children, is something right out of the complex ecology of Arrakis. It’s almost like an evolutionary population control. Kids get too powerful for the world (or their parents) to contain? The population resets.

Overall, I thought it was an interesting concept, and a sign of a dynamic world. With Quirks becoming more unmanageable, something has to give. I think I would have liked to have seen some indication that the kids’ teacher, Komari Ikoma, was trying to come up with a new way to teach them; some way that indicated she and the teaching establishment she was a part of were trying to evolve new methods.

As for the character development part. The situation was resolved by using their quirks in a creative and cooperative way rather than a show of force. Each of them found the best way to do so according to their own skills. They knew how to capitalize on the opportunity once the kids started to be won over. But the idea started with Bakugou. More precisely, with Bakugou explaining that even if they do simply defeat the kids without hurting them too much, being defeated by someone you have no respect for is just humiliating and frustrating. It won’t win the kids over. They need to create a situation that the kids want to be part of.

First of all, that’s pretty smart, but Bakugou is supposed to be very intelligent. From the very first episode he has always been top of the class. In fact it’s nice to see it in action but it’s nothing new. What is new is that this particular bright idea can only come through empathy. Bakugou had to put himself in those kids’ place and that is not something he could have done in episode 1. Our little Baku is growing up. And it’s telling that he’s the only one that didn’t use his quirk at all. Just his words.

Also that advice he threw in “If you don’t stop looking down on others from high above, you’ll fail to notice your own weakness” (I’m paraphrasing here), hits close to home. It’s obvious that the events of the last two seasons have had an effect on him and it’s sinking in.

I feel a little bummed — I couldn’t find a name from the little ring-leader from Masegaki Primary School! One thing that struck me as I watched this scene is how easily it could have become hollow and saccharin sweet. But because it was the product of Bakugou’s authentic character development, and because he was so convincingly empathetic, I thought it worked and worked well. 

And though I’m really happy they didn’t have to resort to physical violence, I did think it was extremely cool that when the kids unleashed their attacks on our four heroes, they  weren’t even annoyed. No damage; not even enough to make them uncomfortable. I do so like moments like that!

In many ways, Bakugou’s character arc, his hang ups and obstacles are similar to Todoroki’s, which is probably why they clash so much. However, they are represented in opposite ways. Todoroki is the golden child who had so much pressure heaped on him that he’s come to deeply resent everyone’s hopes and expectations. It’s symbolized in his unwillingness to accept his own quirk, which is in many ways a symbol of a lot of the pain he’s suffered in the past. He has willingly hadicapped himself using only a portion of his power and strives only to be different than what is expected of him.

Bakugou comes from a much more modest background and has had forceful but supportive parents. Despite being in many ways perfectly suited to the golden child role, brilliant, often referred to as handsome, strong and healthy, he has defined himself solely by his quirk. So seeing a situation where Todoroki used both his ice and fire willingly — and just for fun at that —  showed the Shoto has come a long way to accepting his quirk, and by extension himself, and putting those difficult memories behind him. On the other hand, Bakugou avoided using his quirk or even taking the spotlight which tells me that this spoiled brat is finally maturing just a bit.

Remember when Todoroki was using his flame to help the kids warm their hands? That’s a great example of what you just pointed out. The Todoroki we met years ago would not have done that! We’d seen hints of that before, so what really blew me away in this episode was Bakugou’s restraint. Very impressive!

All of this development was great to see but there’s still one elephant in the room for me. I cannot forgive Endeavour, and I really dislike the series trying to sanitize him without any proper character building in that sense. Like I said, I thought it was interesting and gutsy to have an openly despicable “hero”. That’s something truly original as even the anti-heros we are used to are usually noble at heart. Endeavour was just a bad selfish and cruel man. But he was strong and wore the right colours. That conflict was fascinating to me. When did he become a tragic misunderstood soul who just wants to make the son he loves so much proud? Where did the guy who beat up that son when he was 5 years old, so badly that the boy threw up? You can’t just go from one to the other like that. Am I the only one bothered by this?

No. Two things bothered me about the scene where Endeavour reached out to Todoroki. First, you’re right — nothing he did in the past has been forgiven, if for no other reason than he has done nothing to atone. He did nothing to heal the damage he’d done. But what bothered me even more was that I found a small part of me hoping that Todoroki would make up with him. To see father and son reunited. 

Why would I want to put Todoroki through that? Sure, he’s conflicted, but wanting him to reestablish a relationship with the exact cause of that conflict is a really, really cruel thing to do! Do even I feel social pressure to conform to an ideal of family? 

I did say “a small part.” The rest of my brain was adamant in rejecting the notion completely. In fact, I suspect now that Endeavour has realized once and for all that he can’t step into All Might’s role — ever! — he’s reevaluating his life. I don’t know that he feels guilty, but he knows the strategy he had employed failed him. And of course it did. It was a terrible strategy. 

I have to give the show points for creating a situation that supported such a conversation, though!

The latter half of the episode started off rather mundanely. A time jump brought us to September and we learn through still scenes that the kids attended Nighteye’s funeral and the the internship program was being reevaluated. Duh! For the time being, everyone is back at UA and things are slowly going back to normal. More or less…

Aoyama has always been a fairly minor supporting character. I mean he’s always been around, but he’s just one more type of comic relief and hasn’t had many opportunities to distinguish himself. So when he starts to apparently stalk Deku, through cheese at that, I was really taken by surprise. I honestly said out loud, what exactly is going on here?

It was well done, constructed as an old school Hitchcockian suspense, with jump cuts and shadowy nighttime scenes and all those allusions of I know…. I really liked this turn. I was baffled as to where it was all going but I really liked it. I hoped we would have gotten a few episodes of this unsettling and yet hilarious atmosphere. The creative use of cheese was a great touch!

It was so unexpected that as the scenes played out, I was trying to come up with explanations. But we know that Aoyama doesn’t have an evil bone in his body, so whatever he was up to couldn’t be hurtful — unless he was actually a Himiko Toga replacement, but that couldn’t be because she’s more direct in her attacks. To be honest, I couldn’t figure out what was really going on.

In the end, it turns out that what he knew was simply that Deku was struggling with his quirk on a physical level and he felt a kinship with him because of that. An unexpectedly sweet reveal if a little cheesy.

I’m sorry…

Should I feel guilty for laughing so hard? I really like puns… I thought Aoyama reaching out to Deku was a sign of how much he had come to trust and respect him. The relationships within the class aren’t static, and I like that.

All and all, this episode was distinctly optimistic in tone, positioning most of the main cast in hopeful situations. It seems like a high before a low or a calm before the storm, but I’m happy to take it. It made me smile.

I’m really looking forward to seeing Kyouka Jirou play her guitar! We haven’t seen much of her since the League of Villains invaded UA. I’m curious if she’ll be her own guitar amp!

My Hero Academia s4 ep80- A Mild Cheese We got somewhat buried in snow over the last few days. Actually, it’s not that impressive. It’s really a perfectly average amount of snow for February in Quebec and far from the huge snow storm they’ve been promising.

[aimmyarrowshigh]

@reliand @marysuewhipple -- I was midway through this response when you blocked, but let’s just bear this out after all, because you genuinely an actually seem to be confused on some of your canon and you might, like, want to know, for real, in a not-mean way.

Wow, you really bought into your own fanon and forgot that it literally is FANon, didn’t you.

No one knows what happened after Luke was knocked unconscious except for Kylo and the other students that left with him (presumably who became the Knights of Ren).

We literally see what happened in TFA. Remember? Kylo, and his knights, surrounded by the dead bodies of the other students in the mud. Kylo kills one of them. We saw that happen. We watched him kill them. That was on screen. That was canon.

I mean, you act like he is just plain evil and started training with Luke as an adult[.]

I can’t speak for Dan @raptorific​, but I have never said that Ben’s training STARTED as an adult -- just that his decision to end his training with Luke and his choice to become Kylo Ren happened as an adult. He started training with Luke at ten, as far as canon has said, but canon has also presented two different timelines for Ben’s training with the Jedi because of the changes made to canon between TFA and TLJ.

Granted: in the Road To TFA materials, Ben “Jedi Killer” Solo became Kylo Ren at age 15; in the Road To TLJ materials, starting with Bloodline, this was changed to age 23 -- whether this change is because of actual canon-bearing narrative choices or just because Adam can’t play 15 because he’s 34, IDK, and it ultimately doesn’t matter.

The current canonical age that Ben Solo slaughtered all of his classmates except any who became the KoR -- and we only know for sure that they lived long enough to assist in the massacre, because we’ve only seen them in that singular flashback -- is 23. An adult.

An adult man who man the choice to kill all of his classmates.

That is what is canon.

First, Ben has had Snoke preying on him since he was in his mother’s womb. Keeping him up for days on end as a toddler, and getting into his head nonstop. Snoke has been grooming this kid from day one…

You guys straight-up invented this.

It is not even ALLUDED TO in any actual canon materials. Leia senses the Dark side of the Force while she’s pregnant, but guess what? EVERY Force-sensitive person is equally affected by the Dark side and the Light side. Their choices are what “choose their side.”

She does not sense Snoke, at least as far as any current canon has said, and Pablo Hidalgo -- I know you guys hate him, but he’s still the guardian of the SW bible -- has said that it has not been stated, or alluded, in canon. Will it turn out to be true? Maybe. It’s certainly a popular enough fanon that I could see LF throwing up their hands and surrendering to it.

But guess what else?

Even if Snoke were grooming Ben from the day Han’s sperm met Leia’s egg, it would not excuse Ben’s adult, agential choices.

Actual canon, in the films -- because Kylo and Ben have not appeared older than toddler-age in real-time in the extended canon materials yet -- makes it explicit that Kylo Ren’s actions are his own. He has a choice every time.

At Tuanul, Phasma asks him what to do with/to the villagers. It is Kylo’s directive to kill them all. Not Phasm’as. Not Snoke’s.

When Kylo Ren attacks and kidnaps Rey, he says -- in a defense TO SNOKE, so it clearly was NOT Snoke’s choice -- that it was his choice to take The Girl because she had seen the map rather than continue to search for The Droid. He’s chastised for this choice, sure. But he still made it.

When Kylo Ren murders Han, it is because Han is giving him the option to come home and come back to the Light. Kylo Ren does not want to be saved. He does not want to be loved. He was given the challenge by Snoke to kill Han because Ben Solo’s “greatest test” would be to kill the father he had loved and who loved him -- arguably, with that language, the person Ben Solo had loved most in the world.

Kylo Ren makes the choice to kill Ben Solo once and for all by choosing to reject Han’s offer of continuing love, welcome, belonging, and Light. The choice to remain Kylo Ren, NOT Ben Solo, was 100% Kylo’s agential choice. Snoke needed him to make that choice of his own free will for the Dark side to actually embrace it. He wasn’t controlling Kylo’s hands.

He wasn’t some kind of Kilgrave, Imperius Curse mind-controller. He was your average, run of the mill charismatic sociopath who radicalizes sensitive, smart, gifted, young men from loving families every goddamn day.

That is the metaphor that JJA set up. On purpose. As a writer, who is not an idiot, who wrote things on purpose in the script that he wrote with very unsubtle metaphors that he made on purpose.

The SW villains have always been mirrors of political and social threats in the era of their trilogy’s writing. The OT cast the Empire visually as Nazis, and included the Holocaust-analog event of the genocide of Alderaan, but the villain Lucas was critiquing, particularly through ESB and ROTJ, was the U.S.’ military-industrial complex and the war on Vietnam. (“Back in a 1973 note on “Star Wars,” Lucas made clear which side he was rooting for in the Vietnam War: 'A large technological empire going after a small group of freedom fighters.’”) In 1981, Lucas literally said in a press conference that Palpatine was based on Nixon; he’s held since that his inspiration for the series was less A Space Opera than “How do democracies turn into dictatorships?” Discussion of exactly how racist it is that he considers the ewoks to be based on the Viet Cong is for a totally other post...

This was also super unsubtle if slightly contemporized with the PT, when Palpatine became less Nixon and more Bush, working to create a global economic crisis that would precipitate a war against his own long-hated enemies. At the same time, it’s been pretty widely believed that part of what muddles the PT’s storytelling is Lucas’ dual focus on criticizing the Catholic church, who at the time that the PT was being written and filmed -- late ‘90s through mid-2000s -- was finally being publicly held to account for centuries of corruption and abuse that had been downplayed as just being part of the status quo because of the Church’s obsession with ritual and dogma. While a worthy thing to criticize, trying to go for moral ambiguity and “both sides are bad from a certain point of view” while also trying to adhere to Campbell’s schema while ALSO trying to make people sympathize for a character that the entire audience already knew grows up to be a mass-murdering cyborg was... a lot to tackle. Lucas arguably failed a lot of his intentions with his execution in the PT, but he still HAD intentions, and again: they weren’t subtle. ROTS literally ends with Anakin cribbing one of Bush’s jingoistic declarations post-9/11: “You’re either with me, or you’re my enemy.” In some ways, the most successful criticism Lucas made through the PT was that this kind of dichotomous sociopolitical dialogue eventually causes you to get three of your limbs chopped off as you backflip into lava to your own downfall -- and yet, it doesn’t cause you to die -- it just makes you come back stronger and angrier than before. Which leads us to the ST.

Although Lucas has nothing to do with the ST, it’s honestly rude to the Storygroup, JJ, Kasdan, and even RiJo to pretend like it isn’t following the same edict to use the fantastical setting of a Galaxy Far Far Away to level harsh, and super overt, criticism of the sociopolitical power structures of the real world contemporaneous to the trilogy’s release.

Snoke -- the gold bathrobe-wearing charismatic fascist megalomaniac who smooth-talked his way into a figurehead position of power despite functionally having others do all of the actual work of both “governance” and violence.

Hux -- the far-right neo-Conservative political schemer who actually WAS raised from bith to idealize the explicit, intentional SW-universe analog for Nazism and thus became a powerful and Dapper Haired neo-Nazi leader.

And Kylo Ren, the violent angry entitled man who sees the kind of power his life position (wealthy, male, Force-sensitive AKA educated and gifted) would have garnered in previous generations but doesn’t today in a Star Wars Analog For Democratic And Increasingly Diverse Landscape*) and is enraged by it, so thus turns to the rhetoric of the megalomaniac and the Neo-Nazi to find afocus for that anger beyond, idk, trying to fucking just be better.

SUPER UNSUBTLE METAPHORS FOR THE POLITICS OF MODERN AMERICA.

* See: Bloodline, and the differences in policy/goals of the Centrists and the Populists; as the Populists have more Senatorial power at the time directly preceding the destruction of Luke’s school and the chief schism between them and the Centrists is that the Populists believe in giving more planets and more sentient species equal rights to vote and self-determine governance, and the Centrists -- many of whom are secretly funding the First Order, not unlike how many Republican senators and congressmen IRL have turned out to have very strong ties to the Klan, the NRA, the TWP, the Proud Boys, various neo-Nazi groups, and alt-right supremacist organizations and militias, fwiw.

THIS PARALLEL WAS NOT AN ACCIDENT.

All of the insistence y’all make to it being Just A Kids’ Movie This Shit Is Just ~Ess Jaw Dubbayoo~ Reaching!!!! is a) something you have to know, truly, is just borne of wanting to stan for Kylo, and honestly, it’d be less irksome if you just... stanned for him without trying to rewrite canon and insult everyone else? and b) Insulting, both to fellow fans and to the SWST writers.

While TFA was written long before The Election, it was still written within the modern sociopolitical landscape. Trump already was out there leading the idiot Birther movement. Sarah Palin was a thing. Alex Jones and Glenn Beck and Fox & Friends had 24/7 airtime. Antisemitic hate crimes were on a steep rise both in America and overseas, and homophobic and Islamophobic hate crimes were still happening far, far too regularly. Police brutality and the unlawful extrajudicial lynchings of Black men and boys by Klan-affiliated police officers and unjust Thin Blue Line that protected their murderers was already (finally) a daily headline. Standoffs between the government and far-right fringe militia groups lasted months; conflicts between armed militias and civilians over access to statehouses and public spaces was on the rise. Mass shootings by angry disaffected young white men were happening every fucking day. Gam/e/r/g/ate was a thing, exposing the depths to which angry entitled young men could sink if they felt like their stranglehold on All Media Things was threatened. The writing for 2016 was on the wall long before the campaigns on either side officially began.

And you know who probably was not an unaware dumdum just scootin’ along without a clue of what was in the air?

Two Jewish men, one of whom was the son of a man who won two Emmys for a docudrama about the Nuremberg trials -- gee, wonder where JJ came up with the imagery for Hux’s Hosnian rally on Starkiller, though? -- and the other of whom does interviews of Holocaust survivors for the HMH.

Denying that is both to assert that JJA/Kasdan don’t have the right, as Jewish writers, to react to the world authentically, and to assume that they are too stupid to know what they wrote. You gotta stop pretending like everyone who fucking sees what they wrote into the ST on fucking purpose is either lying or crazy. Seriously. Stop it.

~*Antis*~ don’t en-masse see these parallels and metaphors just because wE tHiNk EvErYoNe We DoN’t LiKe iS A NaZi!!! It’s because that’s what they’re fucking overtly intended to be.

And guess what? Hitler was in the ear of the Hitler Youth from infancy, too.

It 0% absolves anything they fucking did.

SW is not subtle. The only thing LESS subtle than SW is Harry Potter, and they’re both the same fucking story. With the same fucking villains. The difference is that JKR is white and goyishe and you can tell. (As you can, tbh, in TLJ being written by RiJo. RiJo goyishe as hell and it, uh, shows. A lot.)

For all of RiJo’s faults and lazy writing, he ultimately did not undo the metaphors that JJ/Kasdan set up. He handled it in maybe the most circuitous and sloppily written way possible, but honestly, the longer since TLJ came out, the more it becomes clearer that RiJo really wasn’t trying to make Kylo seem heroic, or trying to subvert TFA’s storyline insofar as giving Kylo depth that belied his character’s setup. He was showing the audience just how easy it is to be hooked into a narrative like the one that suckered in Ben Solo, and that he tries to use to sucker in Rey -- and nearly succeeds.

In TFA, it couldn’t have been more overt if he were straight-up just constantly watching snuff film porn or something, but in TLJ, Rian’s cues -- which I STILL will always maintain are poorly executed -- are less “out on the street in Charleston with a tiki torch in hand” than “on Twitter sealioning female journalists until they delete their account, and then retreating back into anonymity on /pol.” It’s still Kylo Ren as the toxic masculine underbelly of rage, violence, and entitlement that is part of the current sociopolitical nightmare hole, even though he’s actively trying to seem like an empathetic #normie. Every single frame of Kylo Ren in TLJ, especially after Snoke makes him remove his helmet, is in service to the Dark and to all of the real-world metaphors of toxic masculine rage that Kylo represents.

Because when given the choice between being free and usurping Snoke’s power, Kylo chose to the power. That is Dark.

It isn’t even Dark inherently because he First Order are an explicit Neo-Nazi parallel, although they are -- and FWIW you don’t get to be antisemitic by rejecting JJ Abrams’ and Lawrence Kasdan’s right, as Jewish artists, to create fantastical metaphors for their Jewish pain and name them as such [“The original name for the First Order was the Neo-Empire,” etc.] in the name of ~protecting Jewish feelings~ when the entire schema was created by Jews and the fact that y’all are excited to claim that theyre are “six Jewish reylos” is... just yikes; I gotta say, as a Jewish ~anti~, there are more than six of us -- it’s Dark because it is the self-serving choice at the expense of the Galaxy.

And, truly, at the expense of what Ben Solo would have known was moral and ethical. Ben Solo was raised by Han and Leia. He was educated by Luke. He grew up with three parental/guardian figures, plus Uncle Lando and Uncle Chewie, who ADORED him and doted on him. He canonically had happiness and friendship in his childhood (per Bloodline). He isn’t a sociopath devoid of empathy; I’ll give you that, because it’s true. He knows exactly how much he is hurting people, both emotionally and physically, with his actions. And he chooses those actions anyway, because they further his goal of becoming the literal Master of the Universe.

Kylo Ren considers his own desires to be of higher value and priority than the well-being of the Galaxy or his own sense of morals/ethics, and that is a Dark choice. (See also: Anakin killing Mace Windu.)

(Cue Palps cackling about “POWAAAAA!”)

Being brainwashed by a fascist lunatic to murder for them does not absolve you from that murder.

Are you out campaigning for the release of Manson’s girls, too? Because they were brainwashed. Psychologically, medically, truly brainwashed to the point where they were unable to perceive the fact that Manson’s beliefs and orders were objectively fucking batshit and evil. But they still were responsible for their actions. They committed the murders. They are in prison for them because of the choices they made.

How about Allison Mack sex trafficking and branding women for NXIVM? Is she an innocent lamb-flower who could not possibly have made any other choices because her charismatic leader was in her ear for years and years? I’m sure that in her trial, her lawyers will make the same exact arguments about her relationship with Renier than y’all make about Kylo and Snoke, but uh, it ultimately doesn’t fucking matter. Allison Mack is the one who slowly and torturously branded her victims with a goddamn laser-pointer. That was her choice. That was her action. She will be held accountable for her choice.

...and his parents didn’t know what to do with him. They have a super force sensitive child, who has a presence constantly poking at him, and he’s highly emotional…

This just literally isn’t canon.

All of Ben Solo as a child’s appearances in canon have shown him as a happy, playful, mischievous child who knows that he is loved and is responsibe to the emotional cues of his parents and others. He is exactly as upset by things that would upset any child as... any other child. He doesn’t have a Presence Constantly Poking At Him in canon. You guys invented that, and it isn’t backed up by his largest pre-Kylo canon appearance, which is Last Shot. Ben, in Last Shot, is loved and knows it, and he loves back. He is happy. He is a normal, good-natured child. He babbles, he plays, he cuddles, he goes outside and gets muddy with his friends and beams and laughs. He has toys and watches cartoons.

He cries a) when he gets woken up, which is when all babies cry and frankly everyone else wants to cry when they get woken up lbr; b) when he doesn’t get to do exactly what he wants to do, and, tbh, it could be interpreted as foreshadowing of the way that Kylo Ren uses the display of emotion to manipulate people into letting him do what he wants in both TFA and TLJ. Or it could just be him being, you know, a normal toddler.

I will give you: he IS highly Force-sensitive. SO IS LEIA. Leia is the granddaughter of the Living Force for fuck’s assing sake. You really think that Luke and Leia are LESS Force-sensitive than Ben??? Being highly Force-sensitive doesn’t, and literally in canon did not, turn Ben into a hyperemotive mess as a child. He’s just, you know, two years old.

“But Kylo Ren is hyperemotional, so what happened HUH!?” you cry.

Well -- for one, the main emotion that he canonically shows as Kylo Ren is anger. He is an angry man, and he acts like an angry man, because he is in a social environment -- by his own choice as a 23-year-old thru 30-year-old -- that encourages violent expressions of male anger. He punches walls. He chokes subordinates. He destroys property. He yells at people. He SCREAMS at people. He is angry, because he feels entitled to more than he has, always more, more power, more respect, more control over others, and he has been encouraged to believe that acting on that anger will help him get what he feels he is owed.

That ain’t special. And it’s hardly even a scifi metaphor. That’s just how violent, angry men ARE.

“But he cries so much!” He cries once in the movies. Once when he is about to kill the father he still loves, because he craves the power he sees as his due more than he cares about anything or anyone.

The other time that it looks as though he might cry -- in the elevator after Snoke’s mocking and the Force lightning -- he instead does what violent, angry men DO when they live in a culture or subculture that glorifies male violence and disrespects all other emotions: subverts actual emotional processing or catharsis by turning it into an act of violence. He destroys his mask, the symbol of his obeisance to Snoke. RiJo even confirmed that was the moment he started to plan Snoke’s murder more concretely. His reaction to feeling sadness, or rejection, or guilt, or WHATEVER, in the face of his killing Han not actually getting Snoke to give him more control and power and leadership, was to PLAN A MURDER.

(AKA: It wasn’t to save Rey; Rey was only there because, using Snoke’s playbook of manipulation, Kylo got her to believe what he wanted her to believe and come to the First Order because Kylo couldn’t kill Snoke alone, and Snoke had to die for Kylo to get what he wanted: ULTIMAAAATE POWWWWAAAA.)

(And FWIW, I’m not saying Snoke’s murder was unwarranted, I’m just saying that it was borne of the same exact cocktail of toxic hypermasculinity that caused Ben “Jedi Killer” Solo to kill Luke’s students and flee to Snoke in the first place. Kylo Ren’s sole motivation, in canon, is the pursuit of total power over others, which he feels is his due because he happened to be born to the family he was and with the genetic makeup [Force sensitivity] that he has.)

[B]ut his parents are also war heroes and they’re trying to build a government and just rebuild in general after a war, so they can’t be there for their son. They’re not the best parents, okay. They leave him in the care of a kitchen droid instead of one suited for care giving. (Also, this kitchen droid tries to murder him as a toddler due to a…let’s call it a computer virus or malfunction. so that’s extremely terrifying).

They literally left him with BX for like 20 minutes because his actual nanny droid had to run an errand.

This argument is so tired and it also kind of proves that you don’t even actually read/watch canon, you take all of your beliefs and cues from what Reylo BNFs with vested interests in keeping y’all brainwashed to believe that Bennyboo is a Pure Sweet Angel Baby Who Never Did Anything Wrong so that they can maintain the social capital of having lots of followers.

Gee, I wonder if that’s similar to anyone we’ve been talking about?

That said, this argument is also exhausting because it places blame on working parents for being working parents, and that’s misogynistic bullshit. Han was Ben’s primary caregiver. In canon. T-2 is really only ever in full-on Nanny Mode during Last Shot, when Han has to leave the house for more than a day or so.

Otherwise, it’s literally canon that Han is a stay-at-home parent whose full-time vocation is caring for Ben until Ben leaves for Luke’s school. After that, he STILL is a full-time househusband, but does some charity ship-racing on the side to raise money for galactic orphanages. He does mentorships for junior pilots, too, and once one of them -- Greer Sonnel -- starts to seem like she has a terminal chronic illness that will keep her from flying, Han helps to place her in a safer job opportunity rather than have to go back to her impoverished home planet. MAN, what a BAD GUY who HATES KIDS and is BAD AT CARING FOR THEM.

Not even the nanny droid -- they kept T-2, who had programming for obstetrics and pediatrics, around because he was a protocol droid just like Threepio but with the benefit of specialized programming that would help them better care for Ben, from early on in Leia’s pregnancy at least through when Ben left for Luke’s school. God forbid parents have specialized, knowledgable help raising their child!  

It is only after Ben “Jedi Killer” Solo destroys Luke’s school and becomes Kylo Ren that Han leaves, and that’s alluded to in canon -- although I’ll give you that it isn’t confirmed at this juncture in either Road to TFA or Road to TLJ material/timeline -- to search for Luke, search for Ben, and/or help raise and gather capital for the burgeoning Resistance. He isn’t a deadbeat who’s never around for his son. His son’s disappearance is the only thing that could make Han leave the domestic home and life that he’d wanted since before he even met Leia.

Second, his powers are erratic and POWERFUL and when he’s like a preteen or something he hears his parents discussing him behind closed doors…like he’s some sort of monster.

And what, exactly, did Ben do before they said this?

We don’t know.

We have had hints in both Road to TFA and Road to TLJ canon that something Ben Solo did, at age 10, was sufficiently powerful and Dark enough that Leia and Han did the best thing they could as parents to a child who did a Dark thing: get them help from a source who has the training and knowledge to help them in ways the parents themselves cannot.

That is not bad parenting. That was the right thing to do.

We don’t know what Ben did that caused his parents to worry about how Dark his behavior, in that act at least, had been, but parents admitting that they are out of their depth and getting their child help from a professional is not neglect, or a lack of love, or a lack of empathy. I get it; being forced to get help, when you view your own actions as justified, is scary and painful and embarrassing. When I was teaching, I had an eight-year-old male student who had been expelled from public school after breaking another kid’s arm and was in a specialized school for students with violent behavioral issues because he had kind-of-accidentally killed his toddler cousin by hitting him over the head with a chair when he was angry. I’m 100% sure that his parents talked about that event, amongst themselves, behind closed doors, with horror and the kind of language that would be immensely hurtful to this boy if he overheard it. That’s a human reaction. A monstrous thing happened, hard to comprehend, and like... parents are allowed to react like humans about complicated emotions of trauma or shock or horror, even though they are parents. But then they did the exactly right thing for their profoundly violent son by getting him professional help. That specialized school was not fun. The boy definitely saw it as, and talked about it as, a punishment. But it wasn’t a punishment. It was loving him enough to try to save him from himself.

Sending Ben to Luke’s school was not a punishment or some way to ~throw him away. Ben DID need help, objectively, although we haven’t yet been told exactly what the final straw was. I believe, IIRC, that the Road to TFA referred to whatever he did as a “great family tragedy,” but I don’t 100% remember -- I only recall that was part of why most people assumed that the incident occurring right around the time of Rey’s birth would ultimately be significant, and who knows, it may yet be. We don’t know. There’s no canon about it.

Also --

You guys act like Luke was some mean, scary stranger who hated Ben on sight, but Luke was Ben’s uncle. Leia and Han adored him, and he adored them, and he loved Ben. We don’t have any canon about Luke’s feelings towards whatever child!Ben did to warrant the intervention, but even in TLJ, there’s no actual objective statements of Luke hating Ben, or even Kylo.

The only person who asserts that Luke hates/hated Ben Solo is Kylo.

And frankly: he needs to believe that. Just like he needs to believe that killing Han will cause Snoke to finally respect him and give him more control/power/leadership. These are things that, honestly, he’s gotta KNOW are not true, but has to create the believe of their truth to continue acting as Kylo Ren.

So this belief, and those actions as Kylo?

Are agential, active choices. As an adult man.

Further:

Re: the moment with Luke in the hut, any interpretation that doesn’t take into account the filmmaking and CANONICAL choice to present it twice, once in Kylo’s POV and once in Luke’s POV, is missing the point of its being shown at all.

Kylo has already begun his manipulation of Rey in service to the eventual murder of Snoke and usurpation of the throne when he tells Rey about that night. He knows that Rey is frustrated with Luke on her own merits, so she will be receptive to a telling of that story that frames Luke as all of the things that Rey is already annoyed with Luke for being: stubborn, afraid of the Force, afraid of the Dark, quick to anger, irresponsible, whatever.

In the flashback from Kylo’s POV, he is telling Rey the story, so it is being presented to her for the purpose of garnering her sympathy in order to manipulate her. It isn’t even necessarily how Kylo remembers that moment when he’s just remembering it to himself, late at night, or whatever! We have never been privy to what’s actually in Kylo’s mind about that night. While you guys are using that as evidence that his mind was good and guileless and sweet, it’s equally (or more) likely that he was so Dark that night bcause he was, just like with Rey, already planning his next Dark act. In both TFA with Han and TLJ with Rey, Kylo’s choices in Dark actions tend to rely on someone else -- someone Light -- falling alongside him because he is a skillful manipulator of empathy.

Han steps closer and takes the lightsaber, blade-end pointed at himself, because he believes that Kylo Ren is choosing the Light and will come home.

Rey mails herself to the First Order, becoming a pawn in the takeover of Snoke’s throne, for the exact same reason.

When Kylo is telling Rey about the night that he destroyed Luke’s school and killed the other students, he is relying on the same tactic -- using someone’s own goodness and Lightness against them.

Han, on the bridge, even as he was dying, believed the best in his son and believed 100% that if given the choice, Kylo Ren would be Ben again, and that he wanted the Light and just felt like he couldn’t have it anymore.

So when he’s manipulating Rey with the story about that night with Luke, in Kylo’s POV, we can visually see from the filmmaking choices that he is telling it in a way tailored to her belief in inherent goodness. Rey, until after the throne room, believes that people are ultimately and innately good and Light -- it’s stated basically outright iirc in her Survival Guide -- and Kylo knows that because he mind-raped her and saw her thought processes and viewpoints and knows, exactly, how to mold his story to ply her. When we see that night with Luke as Kylo tells it to Rey to get her to come to the First Order, he tells it in a way that casts his choice to flee to the Dark as being borne of fear and confusion, not desire. (And y’all reylos buy that??? Okay.)

But if Rey herself weren’t being so muddled by her own confusion and sadness, honestly, TLJ itself presents her with enough evidence that wasn’t true: she knows Leia and Han loved him, and he tells her that he didn’t hate Han. And yet, he stayed. He stayed in the First Order for six years after that night. He didn’t destroy Luke’s school by accident out of shock and fear and pain in a whirlwind of Dark energy that he couldn’t control, and then, you know, feel bad and atone and try to make amends and acknowledge his bad deed and accept consequences and try to redeem himself.

He destroyed the school and fled to the First Order and stayed. He destroyed the school and kept on destroying.

But he IS a skillful manipulator, and he also knows that Rey most likely assumes that he wants to come home because, he’s seen in her mind AND she’s reaffirmed, that all she wants is a loving home and parents. If he tells about that night in the hut in a way that casts himself as the victim, his hand forced so that he doesn’t feel he can come home, she’ll believe it (despite literally having seen him in front of her face reject the invitation to come home with his dad, but whatever Rian).

So that’s how he tells it: Luke, fallen to the Dark side, his face twisted into something demonic in his fear and hatred, and Ben, still innately Light inside, only acting in the Dark basically by accident. THAT IS KYLO REN MASTERPIECE THEATER PUPPET STORYTIME, AS HE ACTIVELY MANIPULATES REY TO LEAVE LUKE AND COME HELP HIM KILL SNOKE.

It is, in the world of the story, and in the narrative through-line of TLJ, not the truth.

Personally, as with a lot of the things that Kylo claims to believe, I don’t think even he believes it’s the truth. It is what a convenient truth would be in that moment to further his progress towards his goal of supremacy. He KNOWS that he was steeped in the Dark side (by choice, as an adult) when Luke entered his hut that night. Even though you’re trying to insist that he was an innocent lamb that night, even your own pro-Ben Solo arguments rely on the idea of his being fully and totally steeped in Darkness by then -- don’t you think he was 23 years and 9 space months into being groomed by Snoke by that night? If Snoke really had been grooming him for so long, then by default Ben Solo was already Dark by then, and the Dark has no power unless you choose to act on it.

And to that end: what, exactly, if not kill all of the other students, destroy Luke’s school, and help to destabilize the New Republic in favor of the neo-conservative fascist junta of the First Order, was Snoke grooming him to do or be?

If you believe that Snoke was grooming Ben Solo to the level that ALL of his Dark actions were really Snoke, and not Kylo Ren actually making agential active choices to further his own agenda, then what was Snoke’s plan for him before that night? Because unless his plan for Ben Solo involved the destruction of Luke’s school... wouldn’t Kylo be starting out his tenure under Snoke’s tutelage with Snoke HELLA PISSED at him for doing something so rash and stupid?

So yeah, granted, it IS only an assumption that the Ben “Jedi Killer” Solo actually consciously and actively planned the destruction of the school and the murder of any classmates who refused to join him... but it’s an assumption based on all of his actions since that night. He has made zero efforts towards self-aware atonement or culpability, and if he truly did not mean to destroy the school and kill other students, one would think that someone who ultimately wants the Light and to be Saved Ben Solo Again would, idk, feel bad about it. Not try to blame someone else as a tactic to get a partner in another murder.

And you might hate the comparison to a school shooter, but that was as unsubtle in Ben’s destruction of Luke’s school as the comparisons to Neo-Nazis are in Hux’s rally in TFA.

He is an angry and entitled man, already steeped in Darkness and resentful that he doesn’t have all of the power that he feels is his natural due, and he scapegoats the adults in his life for making him get professional help that he didn’t want and was angered by because one of its tenets (if Luke was adhering to at least basic Jedi teachings) was that no one person should have that much power.

When he is caught continuing to act/think/speak/etc. in Dark ways -- like, IDK, someone’s loving parents trying to disconnect their internet access because they were so deeply entrenched in alt-right conspiracy theory that they were functionally insane and had become frighteningly violent -- his reaction is extreme violence (like stabbing to death the father trying to protect you from your own delusional conspiracy-driven subculture) in service to leaving his life for a literal, in-world neo-conservative fascist slave-owning militia planning a political coup through the equivalent of an atomic bomb in the capitol. Again: the parallel that JJA and Kasdan wrote and created for Kylo is not an accident, nor is it subtle. We’re MEANT to see him as a toxic masculinity-driven, entitled, violent white man, and we’re meant to view his slaughter of his classmates as having been driven by his rage and his quest for the power he feels is his due.

That is a school shooter. Trying to pull the “you can’t compare this overt fantastical metaphor to a real-life bad thing to the bad thing it’s meant to be because that would mean acknowledging the bad thing!!!!” card is really tired.

Like. There is no realistic, actual, canon-based scenario in which Ben Solo, by the night of the hut, DIDN’T have plans for violence against any who would not join him.

Remember? Star Wars has already cribbed-and-canonized the reactionary mindset once: you’re either with me, or you’re my enemy.

[moodring89]

Espresso Marmalade CH.2

Pairing:  Taehyung / Yoongi (ft. side Jikook) Rated: M / NC-17 Genre: BDSM!AU Tags: Dom!Yoongi, Sub!Tae, Shibari, Master/Slave, Canes, Impact Play       Summary: Jeongguk was more eager to get inside the club, taking long strides to the set of black steel doors. It was the younger’s idea to bring Taehyung to Void. Seoul’s first fetish house, an upscale BDSM parlor that was legally permitted and licensed. Or the one where Tae’s a meek virgin who catches the eye of Void’s most popular dom. Previous chapters: 01

- Problem with the layout? Read on ao3 here.

A/N: Uh…so, first of all, THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to comment, kudos, subscribe, and bookmark this story. I’m not at all used to having such a big response to my work. I usually write het stories with side bl, but my friend challenged me to write a full bl, and that was how this story came about, and I was super pessimistic about it. I thought no one would like it, but you guys kind of popped the bubble to that belief. As far as my writing schedule goes, I never know how long a chapter will take for me to write. If it’s rushed, then it runs the chance of being sloppy, which I don’t want to do to you, ever. I don’t think I’m particularly fast at getting chapters out and I’m sorry for that...I like writing long chapters and this story requires lots of research. Thank you all for being patient with me though. I wouldn’t mind making friends, either! I always follow back, so please don’t be shy: tw Extra note: This is a JiKook heavy chapter. COME NOW. THEY DESERVED IT. Just know that you will never get a chapter with Jikook like this again. Thank you @Bangtan_Trashbag and Melissa for pushing me, beta-ing. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter Two: A Rabbit's Heart It was halfway through Professor Min’s lecture that the reality of the situation had fully started to sink in. Sugar was Yoongi, Yoongi was now taking over one of the most important Art History courses of Taehyung’s precious student career. He loathed the idea of it, completely and wholly, as he watched Yoongi go on about 12th century France, pouring so much passion into articulating the beauty of Gothic churches. He especially hated how attractive it was that Yoongi knew so much about his world, and yet Taehyung still knew so very little about anything else. The class ended with no homework being assigned. No mentions of an exam – just lazy, lazy nonsense. Professor Jung would have had the students groaning by now, save for Taehyung, because he actually enjoyed homework. Unfortunately, his fellow classmates ate Professor Min up like he was a damn buffet, falling into his many examples of how the Christian faith was cultivated through the power of art. Everyone appeared to be sipping the Kool-Aid, except for Taehyung, because he knew that there was a monster in their midst. They just didn’t know any better.   He shoved his belongings inside his bag, the note section of his book completely blank, since he’d been unable to pay attention long enough to jot down anything useful. Or maybe it was the fact that he was paying too close attention to Yoongi, that he’d forgot all about it. Several times he found himself distracted by the way the professor’s mouth drew into a deep pout, like he was frowning around every syllable. The professor even smiled at one point. It was unreasonably gummy and so big that it reached his eyes, which caused Taehyung to momentarily forget himself, and who he was dealing with. “Ridiculous,” Taehyung muttered at the memory of it, slinging his bag over his shoulder, and was about ready to head straight for the doors, when he heard his name being called. Typical. It was fucking typical.   Yoongi glanced at him from behind his glasses, “Can I see you for a minute?” It wasn’t really a request – Taehyung knew this, as he took his time walking towards the professor’s desk. The room was emptied out, leaving just the two of them. Great. The elder was hunched over a mountain of paperwork, attempting to retrace Professor Jung’s steps, not wanting to divert from the original lesson plan. Taehyung waited a good two to three minutes in silence, before he decided to break it, “Professor?” The title of respect was sour on his tongue, leaving its aftertaste twice as bitter. “I’m sure that I don’t have to tell you that my working at Void is to remain hushed,” Yoongi said, as he peered up at him then, boring his dark penetrative eyes through Taehyung’s – holding him very, very still. “Can you do that for me, Taehyung? Can you stay hushed?” “You shouldn’t put me in a situation where I would have to keep one of your secrets, professor. It’s irresponsible of you and it’s also wrong,” Taehyung said, deciding to be perfectly candid about it. He was never any good at keeping quiet over something he felt strongly about and right now, the current situation begged to be screamed out loud to all his friends. Then he briefly wondered if Yoongi had to have this talk before. How did he make sure they stayed silent?   The professor chuckled, softly – endeared, because he’d expected Taehyung’s answer to go exactly like this. However, he felt that he had nothing to worry about when it came to the younger, knowing a good boy when he saw one. He leaned back against the old leather chair, allowing the silence to fester for a few more seconds, before he finally responded, “Fair enough. It wasn’t my intention to offend you, Taehyung.” ‘Taehyung…’ He wanted to swiftly end Jeongguk for saying his name the other night, although Yoongi would have found it out eventually, but it seemed like the professor was saying it purposefully, and intimately…   He sighed, feigning disinterest, “Can I leave now?” “No, Taehyung. You may not,” Yoongi said, tearing his eyes away from the boy’s face to instead take in Taehyung’s ensemble more closely. If he could manage Taehyung, dress him up in whatever he pleased, the possibilities would be endless. The first thing he’d do away with was that purple scarf. It was the same one from the other night. Yoongi pointed to it, voice practically dripping with sarcasm when he asked, “Do you have some sort of unhealthy attachment to that thing?” That ‘thing’ was a handmade gift from Taehyung’s grandmother – the last gift, to be more precise. Taehyung missed her so often that he rarely parted with it, even in the summer it was always in plain sight. Sometimes when he was nervous, he’d run his fingers over the knots, envisioning her working on it.   Releasing a shaky breath, Taehyung was visibly hurt, shooting the professor a glare, “What does that fucking matter to you?” Oh…The formalities were lost to them at that point. Yoongi much preferred it that way, honestly. Fiery, beautiful boys like Taehyung with tears clinging to their lashes tended to be a weakness of his, and Taehyung was the easy kill.   “You know,” Yoongi started, taking a thoughtful pause, voice lower and raspier than usual due to the long lecture. “That scarf is just the right length.” It took Taehyung a moment to realize what Yoongi had meant by that and the only conclusion he’d come down to would leave him furious if he was correct. He would need the professor to elaborate more, “Right length for what, exactly?” “Well, it’s the right length to keep you all nice and warm,” he mused, while standing up from his desk. Yoongi hadn’t failed to notice the way the boy tensed at this, as though he was on high alert. Taehyung was truly exquisite, reacting with such uncertainty, and yet he was still so curious – hanging onto every little thing that Yoongi said or did. Taehyung was already the ideal submissive. He just didn’t know it yet. Yoongi was shameless, as he continued, “It’s also the perfect length to do a simple over-arm tie. There might even be some scarf left to walk you around like a puppy dog.” “Stop talking. Just fucking stop,” Taehyung murmured, still trying to recover from the fact that Yoongi suggested using his grandmother’s handmade scarf as a perverse prop. He licked his bottom lip out of habit, eyes steadying on Yoongi’s – even if it sounded less convincing, even to himself, he tried, “I would never let you.” Yoongi was careful with every step, slow, and so very careful. He wasn’t trying to frighten Taehyung away, not when fate presented him with another opportunity. Taehyung had made a fatal mistake back at Void – he’d allowed himself to be seen, seen to an extent where Yoongi saw every little bit of him. There was desire there, a tangible and desperate cry for help, and Yoongi wanted to do just that, he wanted to answer him. He wanted to save Taehyung, before he falls deeper into misunderstanding himself. “You shouldn’t let me do anything,” Yoongi said, stopping once he was standing directly in front of his student. With their differences in height, the elder had to crane his neck just to be able to stare at him. “Submit to me first, Taehyung. Consent to me.” Taehyung’s lashes fluttered at the words, decidedly pretty – Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed at the thick lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure if he’d meant the next stream of words to spill out, reacting without fear of any real consequence, “If you bring this up to me again, I won’t hesitate reporting you to the Dean. I’m sure he’d love to know that there’s a sick fuck parading around as a professor.” The elder’s lips twitched into a smirk at that, giving Taehyung a long, heavy look of ‘oh, please’ that let him know that he knew – Yoongi fucking knew that he was bluffing. “Are you threatening me?” he asked, dark eyes tracing over Taehyung while under the bright overhead lighting. Imperfections were meant to be seen and exposed, but perhaps Yoongi was a bit biased, in the fact that the boy didn’t seem to have any. Taehyung was an enigma consisting of suntanned skin in the middle of winter, two gorgeous almond shaped eyes, and a highly kissable Cupid’s bow. Three dark freckles stood out like focal points, one on his waterline, another on the tip of his well-round nose, and the other on his bottom lip. There was an old scar on his cheek that was paler in contrast, which only made it stand out more. Yoongi was intrigued by it and the fact that no matter how murderous Taehyung could appear when glaring, no matter how angry, there were still flecks of warmth, and innocence, and perhaps it was that innocence that Yoongi found to be most erotic. “I…” Taehyung started saying, when one of his classmates knocked on the doorframe, interrupting them. Yoongi could have thrown the little prick out a window, watching as Taehyung startled, and clung tighter to his bag. He then bowed deeply to Yoongi in some fruitless attempt to ease any suspicion. “Thanks for the advice, professor.” Yoongi folded his arms in irritation, charcoal eyes following Taehyung, until he was out the door. He snapped his teeth, “Anytime.” Hoseok was waiting at their usual spot by the leaky water fountain. Jeongguk always took a few extra minutes in his Photography class to pack up his camera equipment. This time Taehyung was the one who was late, met with a glare from his starving hyung, and a confused smile from Jeongguk. It took everything in Taehyung not to just explode about Yoongi, but it would be better to unleash once they were all sitting down. “I thought I was gonna have to eat our little Jeonggukie,” Hoseok grumbled, as he pressed himself off the wall to start heading towards the cafeteria. This was the first time Taehyung had seen Hoseok since his visit to Void, remembering all of what Jeongguk told him. The line was short, given how late Taehyung was, the three of them plucking food from under the heating lamps. Then they sat, taking the first few bites in silence. “Why were you late today, hyung?” Jeongguk asked with a mouth full of jjiggae. Next to him, on top of his camera bag, his phone started going off, to which he ignored. It was like he’d grown immune to it, easily droning out the noise.   “The professor had me stay after,” Taehyung said, picking apart his food into an artless deconstruction. He really wasn’t all that hungry, not after his encounter with Yoongi.   “Oh, I heard about poor Professor Jung.” There was a hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, Hoseok’s, as the elder leaned in, teasing his words against his ear. “I know he was your favorite. Guess you gotta hang onto your innocence for a little while longer.” Taehyung shrugged him off, but not before Hoseok could press a kiss to his cheek, “What the fuck is your problem?” “How’s the substitute?” It was Jeongguk’s way of prolonging Hoseok’s death. “I know he’s not Professor Jung, but they wouldn’t hire just anyone to fill his shoes. He’s a legend.” Taehyung wanted to laugh at the irony. “Oh, it definitely wasn’t just anyone.” “Well, spill it,” Hoseok said, having already cleared his plate – still hungry. Jeongguk practically had to stave him off from stealing his banana. “Uh, shit, yeah, okay.” He had both of their attention now. Words were never all that difficult for Taehyung. “There’s really no other way to say this, but Sugar from Void is my professor now. Actually, it’s Min Yoongi. That’s his real name and he asked me not to tell anyone, but well, that’s impossible with you two, and I needed to be able to vent, so now you know.” Jeongguk turned to meet the slow look that Hoseok was casting him, their shared expressions blank, and unreadable. It was quiet for an appropriate duration, as it should be. Maybe now Taehyung could have a moment to himself, when – Hoseok was the first one to crack, giggling himself into a state of hysterics. Jeongguk soon joined him, pressing a hand to his stomach he was laughing so hard. Even his stupid bunny teeth were out on display, both their faces were scrunched up, and dumb – horrifically dumb looking. “Sweet fuck, you’re good,” Hoseok said, wiping the tears from the sides of his face. “Like, drop your major, and get into acting. Immediately.” “I’m not joking. He even dyed his hair black and he keeps his tattoos hidden.” Taehyung looked to Hoseok. “I heard about you, by the way. You’re into dommes?” Jeongguk paused, then. “Wait, hyung. You’re serious?” “As a heart attack.” Taehyung wished it was all just some cruel, twisted joke. Too bad that it wasn’t. “He’s my professor now and if you don’t believe me, then feel free to walk me to class tomorrow.” Hoseok sobered up some, no longer amused. “You told Tae about my time at Void?” “About the stiletto, all of it,” Taehyung said, waving it away like it didn’t matter, because at the end of the day, it didn’t. It changed nothing and it didn’t fix any of his problems. “Also, why in the hell aren’t you reacting to the fact that I went to a bdsm club?” The elder was beyond confused, still dwelling on Taehyung’s previous statement, “Because you’re still fucking straightedge and I’m so sorry for not being proud about that fact, but what about me and stilettos?” Jeongguk shook his head, trying to keep his banana inside his mouth. “It was nothing, hyung.” “Sure doesn’t sound like it was nothing. Did Jeongguk make a domme joke…” Hoseok asked, speaking in a tone that was painfully tart. “…at my expense?” He sighed, turning to Taehyung. “I went to see if I’d liked to be dom’d for a change. Turns out that I’m a perfectly healthy switch.” “Your coming out as bi speech was a bigger shock to us and even that was pretty mild,” Jeongguk murmured, when his phone went off again. This time he took the time to remove the battery.                           It made Taehyung feel uncomfortable, since he was inclined to believe that it was Jimin, and if so, what the fuck was his friend doing? Jeongguk was already in deep enough shit as it was and now the brat was ignoring his ‘master’. He couldn’t stop himself from being nosey, “Who keeps messaging you?” Hoseok nudged the youngest boy, “It’s him, right?” Jeongguk nodded, somewhat guiltily, “I told him I can’t see him until Friday. It kinda goes against our agreement, though.” “Are you avoiding him?” Taehyung asked, unable to look at his dongsaeng, even while Jeongguk was staring directly at him. He shrugged, “I’m just not in a rush.” Hoseok looked back and forth between them, “Okay. What the fuck did I miss?” A lot, Taehyung wanted to say and leave it at that, but he had no choice but to fill Hoseok in on every ridiculous detail about last week, from Taehyung being dragged inside the club to then later being hauled outside of it by Jeongguk. Hoseok kept quiet for once, only stopping to either laugh or to agree – agreeing that, yes, the drink menu was atrocious, and that Jeongguk was sorely fucked. And Taehyung felt responsible. “Alright, well, one thing is clear,” Hoseok said, pointing his spoon at Taehyung. “You’re like, just as fucked as Guk is, and I’d wish you luck, but I hope your Mary Poppins, umbrella wielding ass fails.” Jeongguk shook his head, stealing Hoseok’s phone to check the time. “I have to leave for a hair appointment in twenty-ish minutes.” “If you need a quick buzz, I can do it,” the elder offered, shrugging like it was no biggie, no big fucking deal.   “It’s not getting cut.” Jeongguk never did anything new with his hair, at least not in a long, long while. Taehyung was intrigued by this, “You’re getting it dyed?” Hoseok teased him, “Did you get permission from your master?” “Fuck his permission,” Jeongguk said and that was when Taehyung realized his friend’s poor defense mechanism, and grew more worried. The younger was apparently the type to make one mistake and then keep on going, because why stop there? Why do bad, when Jeongguk was capable of doing so much worse? Shit. It was one thing if Jeongguk never planned on returning to Void, but he did – so, what the fuck? Taehyung didn’t know much about the BDSM world and he knew even less about Jeongguk’s relationship with Jimin, but it felt wrong. Maybe if he was more of a friend and less of judgmental piece of shit, then he would be stopping Jeongguk, but he wasn’t. “I call dibs on your camera,” Hoseok said, already at peace with Jeongguk’s decision. Great. They parted ways after lunch was over, Taehyung taking his anti-social ass back to his dorm room. He declined Hoseok’s offer to watch him work on his choreo, because that could last forever, and ever. And it didn’t need to be said, but Jeongguk clearly wanted to be alone, even if he shouldn’t be left to his own devices. Taehyung slammed his hip into the door, shoving it open. He dropped his bag onto his bed. It was seldom that Taehyung had spare time. However, with what little Professor Min offered as studying materials, he had no other choice but to rest. He fired up his laptop, before digging into the fridge, knowing that it would take a good ten minutes for his desktop to fully load. It was an older model, but he couldn’t be bothered to replace it due to lack of income. Food was better than technology, anyway.   The scarf slid free from around his neck, the gradual pull causing him chills. He couldn’t help but think back to what Yoongi had said, about doing an over-arm tie. What was it? A shibari thing? He settled on a bag of stale chips and sat down in front of his laptop. It was ridiculous, waiting a whole five minutes for his browser to popup, just so that he could further look into what went through Yoongi’s mind. He typed ‘over-arm tie shibari’ into the search engine and let it run. He wasn’t particularly interested in looking at the websites or videos, only the images. There were many different ways of doing the tie, apparently, some more constricting, than others. This hardly satisfied Taehyung’s curiosity, since he had no idea how Yoongi would have done it or what the outcome would have even looked like. Pulling up another tab, he typed in Void. There was an official site, the page coming up in predictable colors of black and red. He snorted, reading over the flattering descriptions of the club’s ambiance, learning that there were themed rooms, which would explain the many left and right turns inside the hallway corridor. Taehyung was in no way interested in finding out what the Enchanted Forest room was like, no, not at all. There wasn’t a staff page, which kind of went hand-in-hand with protecting the identity of Void’s workers and attendees. The only photos provided were of the outside of the club and the lounge area, but it was empty. When he clicked to make an appointment, he found Sugar on the list with a similar description as his chalkboard, minus the middle finger. Out of curiosity, Taehyung checked the calendar to see how many bookings he currently had – whistling low, because holy shit. He was busy for the next two months. ‘Consent to me…’ A flash of pretty, black hypnotic eyes and soft, curvy lips damn near caught him off-guard. Did Yoongi say these things to everyone else? He had to of, right? ‘Submit to me…’ Did he already have other submissives under contract? Of course he did. It wasn’t as though Taehyung was special. Yoongi’s pursuit was just his fucked up way of pocketing another shiny new toy.   At the bottom of the page was a link that read, ‘Are You BDSM Curious? Take a test to find out your results’. Taehyung wasn’t curious, this was not curiosity, but he clicked on it anyway. Some form of homework had to be done this evening. The first page was pretty standard, but the quiz itself had him scoffing at every question. The percentage of completion was racking up, until he made it to the very end, and received his results. It seemed silly, because although he might’ve been intrigued by shibari, he was not a rope bunny. Not like Jeongguk or maybe not at all? Look – so, maybe he was a little bit curious. So what? He wasn’t about ready to go and do anything with that information. A notification on the right side of his taskbar slowly and jaggedly crawled its way up. He had his school email linked up to his computer. The ‘ding’ had arrived a bit late. It was something from the Head of the Art History Department, Professor Min Yoongi. All of his classmates were CC’d in the following message that read: Good Evening, Class. I’d like to thank you all for showing me such kindness on my first day and I’m looking forward to helping you along on your paths. I’ve created a cohesive outline for this semester’s syllabus from Professor Jung’s notes and left the link down below. I have called to confirm the approach that I’m taking and he agreed that it was well-structured, and much like what he had in mind for you. He also requested that I am to be open with you, not only as a mentor, but also as a person. As I understand it, Professor Jung shared a lot about himself with his students, so I’ll do the same with an introduction.     Here’s a little bit about me that wasn’t on the chalkboard today. I was born and raised in a small town in Daegu. I’ll be turning thirty this coming March. I have a toy poodle named Holly. During my free time, I like to create music, and discover new coffee joints. If you have any recommendations, let me know. Also, like Professor Jung, my passion for art has taken me all across Europe, and made me fall in love with the study all over again. I’d like to note that it’s mandatory for all students to give me their contact numbers in the event that they are late for class, or an exam. I expect you to reply back to this email with your information. Today’s lecture is in the attachment for those of you who’d like to look over the notes and again, check out the syllabus. Expect to receive the notes within the first few hours after each class, unless stated otherwise. Sincerely, Professor Min Taehyung had just learned things that he didn’t want to know about Yoongi. For one, he was going to be thirty soon, had a cute dog named Holly, and he travelled around Europe? How convenient that he avoided mentioning what he actually does during his free time. Whatever. The person Professor Min tried to come off as was nothing more than a sham, this was his façade, his Clark Kent identity. Although, Taehyung did appreciate how thorough he was, giving the students access to the syllabus, and attaching the notes – crucial notes that Taehyung failed to jot down during today’s lecture. He closed out of the email, dismissing the professor’s request. Professor Min wasn’t getting his goddamn digits. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Jeongguk got through his week by doing things he knew Jimin would disapprove of – things that went against the terms and agreement of their contract. Two months wasn’t a very long time in the BDSM scene, but the younger fit right in. Admittedly, there was always something missing in Jeongguk’s life, and in all of his relationships. He wasn’t interested in girls from the beginning, but he also wasn’t interested in boys, either. He thought that he would drift in limbo forever, until his last year of high school, where a party was being held back home in Busan. His first sexual experience was with a smaller boy, both in height and width – in all ways. He was just so very little and precious in comparison, on the outside at least, and Jeongguk didn’t want to ruin him. He wanted to be careful, but the other boy only wanted to be broken. Jeongguk was always better at listening to orders, anyway, so there was comfort in being told what to do, and exactly how to do it. So, he took that fragile boy apart just as he wished, but a pattern had formed, however. The stronger Jeongguk became, the more he seemed to attract breakable people. They wanted to be dominated by him. Perhaps that’s why Jimin was everything to him. He was strong, yet elegant, small, but unbreakable. Jeongguk recalled the first time he saw Jimin. He was decked out in a fitted leather one piece that he never saw again, except for in his dreams. When his birthday rolled around, he’d be sure to make a request. Jeongguk vividly remembered falling in love with fifty inches of pretty, baby pink hemp rope. Not the color, but the rope itself. Jimin was teaching the audience how to properly create a dragonfly harness. Jeongguk stood front and center, listening attentively as Jimin went over the basics, while practicing on someone who was randomly picked from the crowd. ‘A lucky bastard,’ was the unanimous response he was picking up on from the spectators around him. Jimin started off with explaining what the bight of the rope was, to the sensitive areas of the body where rope constriction could cause nerve damage. By the end of the lesson, Jeongguk had learned that the art of shibari was beautiful, but it was also dangerous, and any misstep could lead to serious injury. Naturally, he liked it even more for that reason. He was an adrenaline junkie, chasing after one risky endeavor to the next, Jimin being the most hazardous. He not only gave his body to the experience, but he also gave away everything else that was inside him, both the good, and the bad. BDSM was the act of exposing his fears and insecurities, wrapping it up with a neat little ribbon, and handing it over to Jimin – trusting him to take care of it.   His master always handled him as though he were something delicate. Jeongguk had never been perceived as soft in his entire life. Not ever, until Jimin, which was why last week when he saw Jimin pressing light kisses into Seokjin’s wrists, Jeongguk had felt terribly cold. He realized that everyone was treated this way with Jimin. Every submissive was precious to him, was met with the same amount of warmth, and understanding. A shibari expert had to be precise. Every bit of Jimin’s practice was about equal distribution. It was windy on his walk from his car towards the club, a thin layer of frost covering the pavement. Jeongguk pulled the doors open to Void, stepping inside its warmth. His skin was tingling, but it wasn’t from the cold. He was nervous.   “It’s been a whole minute, hasn’t it, Jeongguk,” Hwasa said with a purr of seduction, a well-known domme leaning against the reception desk. She was outwardly impatient, moving her long, jet black hair over to one shoulder. The change with Jeongguk’s hair was an obvious one and she was not-so subtly taking it all in. Hwasa’s laugh was both soft, and unkind, “Oh my…Did your master agree to all of this?” A second passed without an answer, when she said, “I’m going to assume, ‘no’. Jimin wouldn’t like the idea of you drawing too much attention to yourself.” The receptionist returned from the backroom holding a stack of freshly printed documents in her hand, humming to a song that Jeongguk couldn’t recognize. She greeted him, sweetly, before busying herself with paperclipping and tucking the papers away into a folder. She handed it over to Hwasa, “Here’s your contract, mistress. Congratulations on your new pet.” “Thank you, Claire,” she practically cooed, leaning forward so that she could skim the girl’s cheek with her leather clad fingertips. “What do you think of Jeongguk’s new look?” “It’s the color of fresh strawberries and I absolutely love it.” The receptionist – well, his now favorite receptionist, shot him a wink. “The usual room is ready for you, but I advise against keeping your master waiting. He has quite the temper as of late.” Well, fuck. Hwasa glanced up at his hair for one last time with fire in her eyes, “Good luck, little rabbit. Oh, and do make sure to give Hoseok my love next time you see him.” If Jeongguk wasn’t in the obituaries tomorrow, he’ll do that for her, right. He bowed to her, mannerism of especially high importance at Void, although he was usually polite no matter where he was, so it wasn’t much of a task for him. He walked down the corridor, making several rights, until he was met with doors made up of black steel, and floors of pristine marble. It was the east appointment wing, where the best rooms were reserved – in Jeongguk’s opinion, anyway.   Room Nine belonged to them – he and Jimin. The boy stood outside, giving himself a moment, because beyond that door could mean the end of their arrangement. Jeongguk had broken so many rules, unthinkingly, having been so overcome with jealousy that he kept on going. He didn’t even know how to stop himself, concerned only with hurting Jimin in whatever way he could manage it, which wasn’t a healthy reaction, but it was too late to dwell on what was wrong, or right. What’s done is done. He stepped into the room, comforted by the familiar surroundings of black walls and dark tiles. It was meant to be an empty space, save for what the scene professional required for the session. The first thing he noticed was a simple table and chair setup at the center of the room. Covering the surface was an array of red, tapered paraffin candles that were already lit and melting down. Unsafe, leaving the display unattended, but…A crisp sheet of paper lying upon the surface caught Jeongguk’s attention, and as he walked closer to examine it, he realized that it was his submissive contract with Jimin. He tried not to overreact, steeling himself, as he continued taking in the room, trying to figure out what Jimin wanted to do with him. There was a suspension frame over towards the back of the room, which wasn’t all that surprising for a shibari expert. He couldn’t help but to stare back down at the contract, feeling scared for a change. One of the basic rules that were agreed upon when coming to an appointment, was that Jeongguk would be completely bare, as he waited for his master. He started the ritual of removing his clothing, folding his coat – the fabric of his shirt was purposefully light on his skin, because he didn’t expect to leave unscathed tonight. He was left wearing only his collar. It was made of real black leather with a white gold rabbit dangle pendant at the center, hence all the nicknames. Jimin’s baby bunny. Jeongguk lowered himself onto the smooth, black tiles in front of the door, resting his hands in his lap. The silence was more unwelcomed, than the pain from his kneeled position. After several long minutes, Jeongguk wondered if his master was going to show up at all. That maybe, this was some sort of new punishment, when the door was being opened, and softly clicked shut. Jeongguk doesn’t dare look at him, keeping his eyes on the floor. The sound of Jimin’s footfalls was light against the cold floor – his double strapped, Italian leather shoes coming into Jeongguk’s line of vision. Jimin was standing directly in front of him, being eerily quiet. Neither of them had gone a day without seeing each other for weeks. Then again, submissives weren’t known for punishing their dominants with such things. Jimin spoke, softly, “Look at me.” Jeongguk obeyed the command, lifting his face to bravely meet the pair of dark, narrowed eyes piercing through him. A short huff of disbelief escaped Jimin’s lips, as he took in the deep pink color of Jeongguk’s hair. “Is it permanent?” he asked, while his thick, slack covered legs brought him closer to where Jeongguk was kneeling. Jimin was dressed with intent to kill him, apparently, wearing a sleeveless top, showing off his arms – delicate muscles toned, and strong-looking. A black harness clung to his slender frame.   It was difficult for Jeongguk to not break out into a smile. “Yes, master.” Jimin raised an eyebrow at him, “You did this to upset me?” “Why?” Jeongguk actually did smile that time, unable to help it. “Did it work?” Something cold and feral flashed across Jimin’s soft features, actions abrupt when he was suddenly gripping at the soft, pink strands of Jeongguk’s hair. The younger hissed at the sharp pain, his head yanked back from the forced motion. Jimin planted his feet between Jeongguk’s thighs, leaning down to speak carefully to him. “You answer questions with questions now, bun?” he practically seethed, showing a new side of himself that the younger had never seen before. Jimin tugged the hair by its roots, taking in all of Jeongguk’s small gasps. “Are you aware of how many rules you’ve broken? Ten and that’s if I’m not being picky about it, which is why I brought along our contract. You are in serious need of being reminded as to what the rules are here. I want you to go sit in the chair at the table.” He released Jeongguk from his grip, hearing him whimper at the sore, bruising sensation radiating across his scalp. Fuck. The younger was about to stand up, when he was shoved down onto his back – the top of Jimin’s shoe pressing hard into his shoulder. Jimin tilted his head at him, a spark of amusement in his eyes, “You don’t deserve to walk. You’re going to have to crawl for me.” Jeongguk felt his face flush at this, skin becoming hot, as he turned over onto his hands and knees. The floors were unkind, as he started to slowly crawl towards the table. It wasn’t much distance to cover, but it was still humiliating. The worst part was that his cock was heavy between his legs, having been hard since the moment he arrived at the club – that, on top of Jimin’s rough treatment, and already Jeongguk was fucked. He grabbed onto the seat of the chair, using it to pull himself up, until he was sitting down. Jeongguk was less than pleased with the whole ordeal, once again being confronted with the contract. The first time he signed it, he was in Jimin’s lap – sighing, as he received small bites at the back of his arm from crooked teeth. There’d been warmth and excitement, but now there was only tension, and hushed anger. There was a Table of Contents section for their contract that consisted of many things, like; Terms, Submissive’s Goals, Rules, Rights of Master, Communication, Punishment, Exclusivity, Limits, Safe Word, Termination of Contract. “Turn to the rules,” Jimin said, as he casually picked up one of the burning candles from its holder. Jeongguk recognized the paraffin wax as what Jimin typically used, but not usually so thin. Sometimes not even sticks at all, but the melts. The younger turned to the exact page and waited for further instruction. He was on edge, anticipating the feel of hot wax meeting his skin. “Ten rules were broken and I want you to guess which. For each rule you get wrong, I will correct you, and give you a punishment. Do you understand?” He nodded, “Yes, master.” “Broken rule number one is what?” Jimin asked, standing behind the boy. Jeongguk read over the printed letters in front of him, finding the first one rather easily. He read it aloud, “Cosmetic changes without permission.” Jimin’s voice was soft and appraising, “Very good, bun. What’s the second?” It was the rule that started it all. Jeongguk grimaced, “Collar accessory either forgotten to be worn or lost.” “That one especially upset me. Next rule.” “Appointment avoidance or sudden cancellations,” Jeongguk murmured, thinking about the many times Jimin tried calling him personally, instead of having the receptionist do it for him. He even started texting Jeongguk, which brought upon the next broken rule. “Coming without permission…” “Ah, yes,” Jimin smirked, wryly, tempted to drip the wax on the smooth, flawless plain of Jeongguk’s back, when the brat deserved much worse. “The lovely pictures of your spent cock, right after I told you not to touch yourself.” Jeongguk was running out of broken rules that fit their current situation. The next one was a guess. “Undermining the dominant’s superiority.” “That’s only five and yet you sound so very lost. You have three seconds to give me the next rule…” The countdown was slow and generous, almost like Jimin knew that he’d have his chance to paint the younger with wax, one way or the other. The sentence came out rushed, “Talking back to the dominant with usage of foul language or speaking out of turn without permission.”   Even if Jeongguk was safe, if it was only for but a moment, since every other rule didn’t seem to apply. There was still four more to go. Jeongguk tried his best to sound confident, “Failed to meet personal goal that the dominant – a-ah!” The boy cried out, as the hot wax was dripped onto his skin in a long, messy path of red that ran down the length of his spine. Jimin was enthralled by the sight of it, always – always so fascinated, as he crouched down to brush his petite fingers over Jeongguk’s sensitive skin, the dried wax flaking off in the process. He murmured the answer, quietly, “Seven, acting on impulse or behaving irrationally due to an emotional episode, brought upon by jealousy.” Jeongguk had to choke back his rebuttal of, ‘fuck you’. Instead, he roamed his eyes over the list for potential responses. This next one couldn’t have been right, but any answer was better than none at all. “Interacting with another dominant at a social event such as…” Jeongguk stopped the moment he felt hot rivulets of wax sliding along the side of his neck, gasping sharply. Jimin stood up, so that he could drape his arms around Jeongguk’s front. There – he blew cool air onto the wax beneath Jeongguk’s ear, before he whispered huskily, “Eight, failing to disclose all current romantic entanglements with individuals within or outside of the practice of BDSM...” Was he seriously referring to Taehyung? Wouldn’t this go down as Jimin doubting his character and loyalty through making baseless assumptions? There was a rule against that somewhere.               Jeongguk was annoyed at that point, as he shot back, “How about being falsely accused and or punished by the dominant, for having romantic feelings that don’t exist.” “How about it’s whatever the fuck I say it is,” Jimin said, as he brought the heat of the flame to the boy’s chest, so dangerously close to licking his skin. The jealousy issues were mutual, apparently. Jimin continued, evenly, “Nine, being dishonest with the dominant. We can safely say that you haven’t been completely honest with me, bun.” “Neither have y–” Before Jeongguk could finish his sentence, Jimin tilted his wrist, allowing the wax to drip over an erect nipple. This sent Jeongguk’s back against the chair in an attempt to escape the intense sensation. Jimin kept his arm around him, as he extended his reach to start painting over the younger’s skin in other soft, sensitive areas – Jeongguk’s thighs receiving most of the attention. By the time he was finished pouring, the boy was shaking in his arms, as the cool air in the room swept over his burns. He was pink wherever the wax had touched – pink, a color that was to be associated with Jeongguk given his recent choices. “Ten, leaving without being dismissed, which believe me, you will never,” Jimin laughed, still livid over the fact that his submissive had the gall to do such a thing. He pressed his nose into Jeongguk’s hair, “…ever do that to me again.” Jeongguk whimpered, somewhat pitifully, “No, master.” “When you signed the contract, you knew that I would be meeting with other clients. Seokjin is a friend and a colleague. In my opinion, this fact should have upset you less, or not at all.” Jimin placed the candle down back in its holder. “And before you try uselessly defending yourself in regards to your bestie, understand that I don’t care to hear about it. Wanna know what happens when someone touches what’s mine?” Jeongguk bit at the side of his lip, unsure if he honestly wanted to know where Jimin was going with it. “Please, tell me.” The dominant leaned himself away, so that they were no longer touching. “It loses its value.” Jeongguk closed his eyes against the words. It was a secret fear of his, one – that he’d kept under control for the most part. The fear of boring Jimin to the point where all of this would stop and that he would be disowned was difficult for him to handle, which was terrifying, given how little time they’ve spent together.                                                                               Jimin extended his hand out to him, “Come.” The boy’s reaction was automatic, not requiring any thought at all, as he slid his fingers through the dominant’s, locking them together. He was pulled up from the chair. Jeongguk was being bigger and taller, but their differences in height and build only served as another aspect of enjoyment.     The wax was peeling and flaking away with movement, leaving behind a path of play debris. Jeongguk was well aware that he was about to be tied up, which was a present more than a punishment, really. Jimin brought him to stand beneath the steel suspension frame, before going to unzip the duffle bag he placed down while he was setting up the equipment, taking out inches of brand-new jute rope. “There’s more to your punishment, bun,” Jimin said, as started unraveling the many layers. “And you were kind enough to give me a nice, long time to think about what I was going to do with you and what would be sufficient enough to appease me.” He moved to stand in front of Jeongguk, instructing him to put his elbows together. “The safe word for tonight is something I know you don’t want to say to me, otherwise you would have said it by now.” Jimin was quick to grab the boy by his chin, forcing Jeongguk to meet his eyes. “It’s ‘sorry’.” The elder released him in favor of binding Jeongguk’s wrists into a double column tie, stressing all of the tightening on the top band of rope, so that it wouldn’t pinch the submissive’s skin. Jimin teased his fingers through the layers to ensure of this, before he went overhand with the rope. The tie itself resembled cuffs. “Put your arms behind your head.”                                                                                                   Jeongguk did as he was told, struggling to calm his racing heart when Jimin fed the rope through the suspension ring on the steel bar, and tugged on it. “Bend over at the waist for me.” Once the anchor was accurately proportioned, Jimin began securing the knot around the ring and the frame, giving Jeongguk enough inches of rope for the position he required. “Perfect. You can stand for now. How do you feel?” “Good,” Jeongguk said, eyes following Jimin, as he started to remove more rope from his bag. It was black like the set around his wrists. The rigger was then on his knees in front of Jeongguk, moving the rope above his hips. The material dug into his skin in a way that was familiar and he couldn’t help, but sigh in comfort. Jimin didn’t react to it, choosing to work in silence, doing his best to avoid Jeongguk’s swollen, leaking cock – otherwise it could end up in his fist, or his mouth. He pulled the rope around the boy’s left and right thigh, mirroring them to look exactly the same – steadily working him into a diamond harness.   Jimin doesn’t know what a submissive will look like in one of his intricate webs, but he enjoyed fantasizing about it. It was all part of his fun. And when he first saw Jeongguk, the kid was dressed in layers dark baggy clothes, leaving perhaps too damn much to the imagination. Still, he fantasized. Now imagine Jimin’s surprise to see Jeongguk at one of his eight-o-clock appointments, shyly asking to be tied up. The boy turned out to be so much more, superseding anything he could have ever dreamed of – standing at the perfect height with the ideal build, waist so tiny. Jeongguk was so, so very pretty, almost unreasonably so. Dressing the submissive up in nothing but rope had its effects, where not even an experienced dom like Jimin was immune to it. It was often a difficult task to pleasure his little bunny, without wanting to please himself, perhaps even selfishly at times. In their contract, Jeongguk had consented to being penetrated with whatever Jimin felt necessary, be it with toys or his own cock. Jeongguk had begged, sometimes even with tears in his eyes, but the elder would not relent. He’d never had the boy in that manner, never made him his own in that way, not completely. It wasn’t something he did with any of his clients. However, Jeongguk, usually so well behaved – his best behaved boy, tested him on a daily basis. He slid the rope beneath the firm cheeks of Jeongguk’s ass, pushing them up – merely accentuating an already flattering part of his body. The harness was climbing up from his thighs to past his hips. The goal was to stop at the center of his chest, bringing the working ends through loops, and around his spine. When Jimin had run out of rope, he grabbed for more, forming a lark’s head knot, and pulling the first rope through in order to finish it. Jimin got up – stepping away to admire his work, combing his delicate fingers through his styled, silver locks. The black rope stood out against Jeongguk’s winter pale skin, so beautiful in contrast. Any color seemed to compliment him, making it difficult to have a favorite.     The elder finally tore his eyes from the delectable sight of his submissive, taking the duffle bag from the floor to bring it over by the table, emptying it of its contents. “I have gifts for you, bun, though you hardly deserve them.” Jeongguk couldn’t make out any of the items from the distance that he was at, although he still attempted to do so, straining against his bondage, but it was futile. “I hope you like them. You’re already familiar with this one,” Jimin said, stalking back over towards Jeongguk, waving his purchase from the fetish boutique. It was an adjustable cock ring that consisted of leather straps, rubber, and studded snaps. “Thank you, master,” Jeongguk murmured, voice breathy and light, uncertain of how well the ring would fit him, given the fact that he was already so painfully hard. Jimin hummed in response, pulling out the travel sized bottle of lubricant from his pocket, and pushing the cap open to pour it over Jeongguk’s heated length. He jumped at the coldness, unable to get very far when the slightest bit of movement was met with restriction. Jimin took hold of the younger’s cock into a tight grip, earning him a deep, guttural moan. Jimin stroked over him once – twice, before pausing to stare up into Jeongguk’s warm, brown eyes, “You’re so beautiful.” It was difficult for him to form a proper response, when his dick was pulsating, but Jeongguk managed, given the fact that the compliment was the first hint of sweetness Jimin had shown him this evening. “Only with master’s help…” “How true…” Jimin said, somewhat smug as he slid the ring down to the base of Jeongguk’s cock. There was something appealing about how breathy and overwhelmed the younger was, while he worked the leather straps around his balls, snapping the material in place. Cock rings tended to leave Jeongguk twice as sensitive, and so very, very easy. Jimin released him non-too-gently, his touch still lingering on the boy’s skin, “You have a few more presents.” The dom proceeded back towards the table, returning with both hands occupied. “I think I have an issue with spoiling you, bun.” The humiliation came in the form of a tall, white rabbit eared headband. He ran the velvety material along the vulnerable underside of Jeongguk’s arm, Jimin’s dark, playful eyes gauging his every reaction. A soft gasp escaped into the quiet room, when he skimmed over the boy’s rope covered thigh next. The area was still pink and tingling from the wax. Jimin continued on with the slow torment, teasing the fur across Jeongguk’s chest, catching his nipples – knowing that he would be overwhelmed by it, when he arched his back. “Have you had enough?” Jimin mused, as he leaned onto his toes to place the headband behind Jeongguk’s ears. He played with a few choice strands, tucking his pink bangs back, styling the younger however he saw fit. Frankly, Jimin thought it was criminal whenever Jeongguk’s forehead was kept hidden. “All bunnies have really pretty ears,” Jimin said, slipping two fingers beneath the collar around Jeongguk’s throat, slowly running his thumb over the rabbit pendant – when a single tug suddenly jerked him forward, their lips less than an inch away from touching, breaths mingling as one. “You know what else they have? Pretty little tails...” Jimin pressed an ironically chaste kiss to Jeongguk’s mouth that left the younger aching for more. Jimin revealed to him what was in his other hand. It was a puff of white fur attached to a plug that was made of black glass. He took in Jeongguk’s expression with open amusement, watched as the pink in his cheeks turned scarlet, like a fever was having its way with him. Jimin trailed his gaze down to where Jeongguk’s cock was pitifully swollen within the confines of the ring, where a thick bead of precum had formed at the tip. The elder chuckled, softly, “What a naughty little thing you are, already leaking from the thought of having your hole filled.” Jimin moved so that he was standing behind him, pressing an insistent hand against the small of his back – bending Jeongguk at the waist. The rope around his wrists allowed him to do this to a certain extent, the tie specifically in place to hold him up. “Spread your legs for me,” Jimin said, giving him less than a second to perform the task, before he did it himself – wedging Jeongguk’s thighs far apart with his own. Jimin slid his cold, lube slicked fingers down the cleft of Jeongguk’s ass, slowly teasing over his hole – getting him all wet and sticky, before he pushed in with a slender digit. Usually, his master wore gloves, but he didn’t for this occasion. Jeongguk trusted him to do whatever he pleased, consenting to him fully, but the smallest of details seemed to matter more to him when he was convinced that it was love. “You’re such a good bunny,” Jimin cooed, taking his time working Jeongguk open with expert fingers – knowing exactly how far to push him, where to press into him so deep, before he struck the boy exactly where he needed it the most. The constant tightening of Jeongguk’s rim around his fingers, coupled by the soft little sounds he was making sent pulses of arousal straight to Jimin’s cock. He nearly lost himself to it, “You’re always so fucking tight. Was that boy really just your friend? You didn’t let him fuck you, you – the slut with three of my fingers up his ass?” “It’s because I’m yours…” Jeongguk gasped out, the familiar burn in his belly threatened to spill over, his thighs beginning to quake. He was already so close. “Can I come, please? Please.” “Awe, no, bunny. You can’t,” Jimin said, as he removed each digit one at a time, being so very careful with him. Jeongguk whimpered at the emptiness he felt, when he heard the sound of the cap to the lube being opened again. Jimin squeezed a generous amount of it onto the plug, before he pressed the cool, sleek glass against his dripping hole – slipping into him with ease, filling the younger up with warmth, until he was met with the thick, bulbous part of the toy. Jeongguk bit at his bottom lip to hold in his cries, when Jimin slowly, but firmly sank the rest of the plug into him, stretching him beyond what he’d ever felt, when it wasn’t even that large to begin with. Spiteful almost, Jimin patted the tail, delighting in the choked sob that was elicited in response. “You’re so good for me,” Jimin murmured, as he caressed each of his ass cheeks into his palms, warming up the area for what was soon to come. The dom’s words were soft and affectionate, “My precious little bunny. You’re an absolute dream.” Jeongguk’s skin was on fire, embarrassed by the compliment, “T-Thank you, master.” “I worked really hard on this last present,” Jimin said, finally coming into view again just to tease Jeongguk with distance itself. He could hardly stand it, especially needy when he was reduced into subspace. “Each time I missed you, I worked on it a little bit more. However, it was my recent…disappointment that gave me the motivation to finish it.” The last and final item was a handmade paddle. Crafting and modifying was one of Jimin’s many hobbies. He enjoyed customizing everything that he owned, making every bit of the experience personal. It was how he expressed one of the many acts of control that most dominants seemed to possess in one way or another. For the paddle itself, he’d started from scratch with a jigsaw blade, and a sander. It took time – time Jimin never seemed to have enough of lately. He found a cheap set of rabbit stencils at a local art supply store, penciled them onto the wood, and then carved them out with kanna tools. He raised the paddle in his hand, showing it off to Jeongguk, watching as his doe eyes widened. “Do you like it, bun?” Jeongguk nodded his pink head, to which Jimin gave him a free pass, because even he’d been astonished by the finished product. It was absolutely beautiful and possibly his new favorite toy. The paddle was thick and wide where it mattered, its surface smooth. He pressed the flat of it against the boy’s cheek, allowing him to feel it. Jeongguk lifted his face with the motion, meeting the heavy weight of Jimin’s dark, narrowed eyes. Jesus. “It’s going to leave pretty little bunny indents all across your ass…” the elder murmured, voice like a caress, when he stepped behind the submissive. “Your limit has always been fifteen with a paddle, but I think you can handle more. And since your insubordination hurt me twice as much, we’re going to double the count to thirty. Do you understand?” Jeongguk closed his eyes at the declaration, resigning himself to his fate. “Yes, master.” A thuddy paddle was exceptionally more painful and Jeongguk deserved every little bit of it. Jimin gently pressed the wooden surface between the boy’s cheeks and upper thighs. The familiar burst of adrenaline rushed through his veins, when he reeled back his wrist, and came down firmly. The heavy impact was enough to send ripples of pain across Jeongguk’s body, hitting all of his most sensitive places. Jimin was the one counting in a low growl, as he distributed each stroke of the paddle evenly – changing up the spot the moment he felt Jeongguk had become too comfortable. He watched as the boy jolted, even though he knew it was coming, and he listened to him cry, even though he loved it. Jeongguk had such a pretty voice – his whimpers and moans as melodic as a chirp from a songbird. The flesh of his ass was a burning shade of red, save for the rabbit outlines that were coming out stark, and beautiful against his tender skin. “Twenty-two,” Jimin said, as he once again rolled his wrist – the wood meeting the fluffy tail, causing Jeongguk to tug hard at the restraints around his wrists, trembling. “C–Can I come, please?” he asked, voice raw and broken, as every stroke of the paddle made his muscles tense around the plug, drawing it into him deeper. The sting of pain only served as another form of pleasure that was overwhelming him. It felt like an eternity since he was hard, continuing to pathetically leak precum down the side of his cock. “You can come just from this…” Jimin laughed, because of course – of course Jeongguk was capable of doing such a thing. “The answer is no, bun. You can’t come yet and if you do, I’ll make you wish that you hadn’t.” The threat was followed up by another loud, heavy fall of the paddle. The bite from it was enough to tear a scream from the back of Jeongguk’s throat. Jimin rubbed the abused skin with the wood, before he immediately landed another spank – testing Jeongguk, daring him to go against his command. With only seven more left to go, Jimin chose each spot carefully, knowing exactly where Jeongguk needed it. And despite having been certain that the boy would quickly release within the short pauses between each tingling smack, he’d somehow managed to focus on doing the exact opposite. Jimin’s voice was thick and heady with arousal, having already reached his limit in all manners of the word, “Thirty.” This was the moment where he should be lovingly praising his submissive. He should soothe Jeongguk’s skin, care for him – forgive him, even. But there were outcomes that Jimin had anticipated. One, Jeongguk would end up saying the safe word before he reached the end of the count or two, he would come, which would bring upon another punishment, but neither happened. See, Jeongguk was a very, very good boy. Jimin set the paddle down against the wall behind him. He usually kept a pair of scissors on him in case of emergencies, but tonight he carried one of his favorite karambit safety knives. He retrieved it from his back pocket and started cutting through the rope keeping Jeongguk’s wrists restrained. With the boy in his bent position, Jimin had no problem with reaching it – keeping his hand above Jeongguk’s, protecting him from any chances of meeting the blade, however minute. “I want you lying on the floor, on your stomach,” Jimin said, as he curved his fingers under one of the many knots of rope in the event that Jeongguk’s wobbly legs gave out once his arms were freed, and no longer suspended. They didn’t, but the elder helped lower him onto the smooth tiles anyway. Jeongguk gasped when his warm skin met the cold, uncomfortable surface. Jimin left the knife out, as he joined Jeongguk on the floor. He straddled the back of his well-muscled thighs, enclosing them tightly within his own. There were rope marks left on the boy’s wrists that would be gone over night. “I’d try to get comfortable while you still can, bun.” The dom’s tone was mockingly regretful. “The thing is – you’re such a good boy for me, that when you step out of line, it’s unexpected, and when it’s unexpected, it makes me very angry. I’m still so very angry with you.” Jeongguk breathed out, shakily, “I’m sorry.” “Sorry, ‘stop’ or sorry that you were wrong?” Jimin asked him, as he shamelessly roamed his eyes over Jeongguk’s sprawled form, completely at his mercy – if willing.   “I’m sorry that I tried to make you angry.” “Oh, you didn’t try, little bunny,” he laughed, the bitter sound of it running down the length of Jeongguk’s spine. “You succeeded.” The boy tensed when he felt something cold being pressed against his back, knowing that it was the steel of Jimin’s blade. “I need you to be still for me...” He nodded his compliance, when the pressure around his midsection was released. Jimin had cut the knots leading down to his waist, but avoided the rope incasing his thighs. Jimin put the knife away, taking in the endless amount of soft, smooth skin along Jeongguk’s back. He was like a herculean trope, all healthy, and fit – half boy, half god. So pretty that Jimin wanted to ruin him, as he dug his short nails into the back of Jeongguk’s neck, and then slowly dragged them down, listening as the boy drew in a sharp breath. The elder adjusted his hips to better follow his path into the dip of Jeongguk’s spine, purposefully nudging his clothed, hard cock against the rabbit tail. He smiled, wickedly, when the boy keened at the contact, “Do you like this, bun?” “Ah –yes! S–So much…” he gasped, having been startled by the satisfying pain and heat radiating throughout his back. “Harder, master.” Jimin was more than willing to oblige him, using both hands this time – starting at the tops of Jeongguk’s shoulders. The lines forming beneath the deep press of his nails were an angry red, skin breaking with small, puffy cuts. However, the reaction from Jeongguk was one of ecstasy, when he curled in on himself with a wrecked cry. The sound of it rang through Jimin like an alarm, deciding that once more would have to be the absolute limit. He tried to make it last, as he slowly raked his nails down – all the while, rocking his hips against Jeongguk’s ass, reveling in his breathy moans of pleasure. The boy turned his face to the side, resting his overheated skin against the cool tiles. “More,” he whispered, brown eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I want you to mark me. Please, master. I want to be yours.” The air ghosting over his scratches made everything burn and at the back of his mind, Jeongguk knew that he was bleeding, and that it was probably an ugly sight, but he didn’t care. “You’re already mine,” Jimin informed him, as he gripped the plug at its base and slowly withdrew it from his submissive’s stretched little hole. He spread Jeongguk’s cheeks nice and wide within his palms, the action possessive as he watched him clench around nothing. The last ounce of Jimin’s self-restraint was promptly gone within that moment, as he tugged down the zipper on his dark slacks far enough to pull out his throbbing cock. “I’ve always wanted you beneath me, just like this, my helpless little bunny.” Jeongguk’s skin grew hot from the words being spoken, torn between wanting to hide himself away, or to throw his arms around Jimin. It was a pivotal moment for the both of them, a change in their dynamic. He’d begged, sometimes until his throat was raw, to be fucked. For Jimin to use him up like he was a doll – now it was finally happening.   Jimin opened the lubricant bottle to start slicking himself up, being generous with the application. What he lacked in length, he made up for in girth. Jeongguk knew of this fact, given the many times he choked while giving his master a messy blowjob, left with a stream of tears and a swollen mouth. “It’s too early in your training to be doing this,” Jimin warned, voice grave, as he pressed the thick head of his cock against Jeongguk’s tender rim. “Are you sure?”     “Please, fuck me, master,” Jeongguk murmured, doing his best to push back with his hips, needing the ache inside him to be filled after a long night of being on edge, punished, and teased. Jimin peered down at him, watching as his bunny teeth sucked in his bottom lip. The rabbit ears were so pretty against Jeongguk’s soft pink hair. He wasn’t even that upset about it anymore. The boy whined when he thought he was being ignored, somewhat petulant, “I’ve been good for you.” “That means you deserve my cock, then?” Jimin mused, feeling himself give in, which was a too common occurrence with his submissive, whose response was an indecent moan of, ‘mmmhmm’ at the back of his throat – eagerly nodding and once again squirming, until he abruptly grabbed Jeongguk by the waist in order to cease his movements, Jimin’s strong legs tightening around the boy’s thighs, as he took hold of his length and slowly pushed into him, sinking deep – until his pelvic bone met Jeongguk’s pert, bunny printed cheeks. Jeongguk’s mouth dropped into a soundless cry at the stretch, painful and blissful all at once. He curled his hands into fists beside his head, when Jimin had him by the roots of his hair, brushing his mouth over the boy’s shoulder, “You feel incredible,” he murmured, voice shaky and affected, as he traced over a deep scratch with the point of his tongue, “So tight and perfect around my cock, little bun.” Using his grip on Jeongguk’s pink locks as leverage, Jimin barely withdrew his hips, before he slammed back in – creating a rhythm that sent the younger into the tiles each time he came forward, Jeongguk’s swollen length a dripping mess between his stomach and the floor, stimulated by the raw friction. He whimpered when he felt Jimin sucking marks into his skin, placing bites against the cuts from his nails. Jeongguk was at the point where shame no longer mattered. “Please–I need more, need it f-faster…” “What if I want to take my time fucking you?” Jimin asked, punctuating his question by slowing his hips to a full stop. It was three, excruciatingly long seconds, before he thrust back into him, filling him inch by inch – the elder repeated the action, seeming to draw it out more each time. The boy was quaking beneath him, when he finally let up. “You would cry,” Jimin said, evenly, answering the question on his behalf, despite the fact that they were both aware of the truth. Jeongguk felt as his master took hold of his wrist, carefully guiding his arm back, so that he was grabbing Jimin’s thigh for support. The muscles there flexed and jumped beneath his fingertips whenever Jimin drove into him, the pace having formed into one that was fast and unforgiving, as he relentlessly pressed in as far as he could inside the younger, the harsh sound of skin meeting skin flooding the quiet room. “Ma–ahh… Master, please let me come…” Jimin could feel how close Jeongguk was to unraveling, clenching tightly around his cock at frequent, squeezing him so hard he’d nearly lost breath from sheer overwhelm. The younger felt so fucking good, part of the reason being the fact that it was Jeongguk he was fucking, and Jimin wanted – he craved to have this for himself, which was a dangerous realization that he’d have to dwell on later. “Go on, sweets, I want you to come for me,” he said, words skimming the back of Jeongguk’s neck, as he moved a hand around Jeongguk’s hips to gently grab at his cock, stroking him in rhythm with his thrusts. The second Jeongguk was granted permission he felt the relief swallow him up whole. The pleasure that was steadily melting him through at the center of his being finally spilled over, as he came in a myriad of deep moans and needy, little cries. A professional dominant would do well to remember that putting the needs of his submissive first was crucial. Jimin had always believed in this, focusing on the younger, when he gave himself over to his release. Fingers then coated with sticky ropes of Jeongguk’s cum, Jimin continued pumping him through each intense wave, until his muscles stopped gripping him and his cock softened enough to remove the ring. Jeongguk winced once the pressure was released, dropping his sweaty forehead against his forearm, utterly sated, and blissed out. Unfortunately for his sweet little bunny, it was his turn now. Jimin pressed the flat of his hand between Jeongguk’s shoulder-blades, forcing his chest down to the floor, pinning him there as he started grinding his hips into his ass, thrusts slow and deep, more thorough – expelling the air from Jeongguk’s burning lungs. Jimin was the perfect fit – his thick cock repeatedly stretching the boy open and stuffing him full, rubbing against the deepest parts of him. It didn’t take much for Jeongguk to get hard again from being overstimulated. “Show Master that slutty, little bunny cunt of yours,” Jimin growled the order through his teeth, watching with hooded eyes as Jeongguk did as he was told, a good boy – spreading his cheeks wide enough to give Jimin the perfect view of his cock disappearing in and out of his drenched, abused hole. He captured Jeongguk’s wrists, keeping his hands there, “Who owns you, Jeongguk?” It was very rare that Jimin ever used a submissive’s real name, even though it wasn’t a set rule. It was simply perceived as coming off as too intimate or personal. “Master owns me,” Jeongguk gasped out, as the heat at the pit of his stomach threatened to unfurl for a second time. He didn’t want it to be so soon, trying to focus on the signs that Jimin was nearing his climax, how aggressive he becomes, his words filthy and thoughtless between deep groans and breathy sighs. It turned him on to no end, knowing that he was the one giving his master such pleasure. It empowered him. “Can I p-please come?” “Little bunny, you come now or you don’t come at all,” Jimin husked, challenging Jeongguk even while he was so very close to oblivion. He tore his eyes away from where their bodies were connected to lean down, scraping his teeth over the back of Jeongguk’s shoulder, unable to leave it alone, as he relished in the cries he was rewarded with, continuing to pound into the boy with wild abandon. The sound of Jeongguk’s affliction was enough to send a pleasurable chill throughout his body, or in this case, do him in completely. He used the full weight of his body to keep Jeongguk still, when he came hard – spilling his hot cum deeply inside him. Jeongguk winced at the odd sensation and was quick to follow Jimin over the edge, coming in thick spurts against his stomach and the tiles. Jimin slammed his hips forward one last time, burying his release, before he slowly let Jeongguk go from his bruising grip. Jeongguk felt weightless, basking in the afterglow – a giddy, joyful feeling engulfing him in warmth. He closed his eyes against its comfort, listening to the rapid beating of his pulse in ears – trying to slow it, without ever having to come back down. Jimin was lying beside him on the floor then, arms immediately reaching for him, and wrapping around the boy like vines. Jeongguk allowed himself to be pulled in, sighing at the petite hands stroking over his sore skin. “Did I hurt you?” Jimin asked, his voice back to its usual soft, alluring lilt – soothing him. Jeongguk was contented, a giggle bubbling from his chest, “Only in ways that I enjoyed.” The elder started combing his fingers through the damp, pink strands of Jeongguk’s hair, adjusting the headband in the process. “The bunny props didn’t even embarrass you, did they?” He shook his head, feeling shy all of a sudden, “But you enjoyed seeing me wear them, so it wasn’t a total waste.” He hummed in agreement, as he turned over onto his back, pulling Jeongguk’s mouth to his own, kissing him softly. “You’re so pretty, bun,” he whispered, taking another long, slow drag of the younger’s lips. Jimin didn’t stop until he was certain that he was under the consumption. At the end of every scene or an intense activity, the submissive was prone to a sub-drop, which meant their endorphins crashed. Jimin was always careful about cushioning the fall, all gentle touches and soft words. “So pretty and all mine.” In a few moments, Jimin would go through the routine of cutting off the rest of the rope. He’d then proceed to take a warm, soapy rag to Jeongguk’s skin, washing him of the blood, sweat, and cum that clung to him – all the while, eyeing his water intake, and feeding him his favorite chocolates. The final step would be dressing Jeongguk’s wounds and there were plenty of them. At the end of an evening with Jeongguk, Jimin was always left with such profound emptiness, which is why Jeongguk needed to complete his training, and become his – his forever. No one in this world made Jimin feel so insecure. No one ever could and yet. Jeongguk nuzzled his nose against the side of Jimin’s throat, twisting his fingers into the fabric of his master’s shirt, desperate almost, “Master, I want more kisses.” Jimin smiled. “Of course, bun.” -------------------------------------------------------------------- It was a little past midnight when Taehyung glanced over to look at the clock. He’d been staring at his notes all night, and just to be clear – the ones he wrote down himself, not the ones from Professor Min’s stupid, highly well-detailed outline. Sure, it would be beneficial to him to just suck it up and use the material – s’not like Yoongi would ever have to know about it. A small amount of bitterness came with it though, since Professor Jung never provided the class with his own notes, and Taehyung would have given anything for a small glimpse of what went through his head. He got up from his chair, long overdue for a break, and to perhaps eat something for the first time since three o’ clock in the afternoon – yesterday now. Several times the messenger on his phone went off throughout the night. It was Hoseok giving a play by play of his random outing into the city. He kept taking photos of every ‘artsy-esque’ thing he saw, as though his two friends – one majoring in art, and the other in photography, would honestly give a shit. Jeongguk hadn’t even read any of the messages. It made Taehyung wonder, even worry about the possibility of Jeongguk being at Void? Then he remembered the date and what the younger had said at lunch about seeing Jimin on Friday. It was currently past midnight on a Saturday. Taehyung was so absorbed in schoolwork that he doesn’t remember what time Jeongguk left their dorm room. It was the type of shit that made Taehyung feel anxious. Jeongguk had made it clear that he was avoiding going back to the club. He told Taehyung that he would be punished as a result of what had happened last week. And what happened last week, was ultimately Taehyung’s fault. In the BDSM world, he was a goddamn menace. How would he ever survive being a part of it? The answer was simple: he wouldn’t. Not that he wanted to be, mind you. This wasn’t the Little Mermaid. Just as he was about to wolf down the last slice of Jeongguk’s leftover cheesecake, the door to their room was being opened. He quickly placed the dessert back on the refrigerator shelf. The boy looked exhausted, but the cold weather alone could do that to you. The tops of his cheeks, as well as the point of his nose were beet red. Jeongguk gave their small living area the onceover, eyes immediately landing on Taehyung. “Oh, hey, Guk,” ‘Guk, buddy, hey.’ Taehyung was doing that thing where he smiled so big and wide that it was obvious he was nervous. Despite all of that, he was happy to see his dongsaeng – glad to know he was alive, and that all still appeared to be intact. “How was your night?” “It was good,” he said, seeming to mean it, but there was noticeable hesitation in Jeongguk’s movements. He was slower, more sluggish in removing the coat from off his shoulders. “The drive back here was awful, though. Then I remembered there was a game tonight, and parties – parties galore.” “Uh, yeah, fucking parties...galactic…” or galore, whatever he said – Taehyung paused, trying to not be so obvious about the fact that he was taking in the other boy’s actions, waiting to catch him in something that he shouldn’t. “Did you see Hobi’s photos yet? They’re trash, but we should still try to act impressed, especially over the moonlight garden that we can’t even see, because it’s fucking dark out.” For awhile, all Jeongguk did was stand there with his coat still down past his shoulders, and that was where it stayed. “I haven’t checked messenger today. Were you – or did you take your shower?” Taehyung was in full detective mode now, ready to break out the deerstalker hat, and magnifying glass. “Not yet. Why? Trying to get rid of me, Jeon Jeongguk?” “I was gonna ask if I can wash up first?” he asked, long fingers closed in one sleeve behind his back, where he was carefully pulling on it. “Sure, Guk, whatever you want,” Taehyung breathed out, realizing that Jeongguk was avoiding hurting himself with abrupt movements. There was discomfort somewhere – somewhere in his shoulders, or in his back. “Let me help you with that.” Taehyung wasn’t offering at this point and Jeongguk wasn’t in the position to refuse him. So, he picked up from where the younger left off, gently pulling at the sleeves of his coat. He then placed it on Jeongguk’s bed when the task was done. Throughout the removal, he hadn’t failed to notice the way Jeongguk’s shoulders tensed, as though waiting for it to hurt. Cutting the bullshit, Taehyung deadpanned, “What happened at Void?” “I had my appointment,” Jeongguk said, turning so that he was facing his friend. “It was nothing out of the ordinary, really. Jimin was happy to see me back, there was even one point where I thought he was going to break out a cake, or play the trombone or something.” “Oh, really? Wow, that’s fantastic!” Taehyung laughed in mock-glee, the sound of it absolutely obnoxious – they’d both learned it from Hoseok. He sobered up once he’d made his point clear, that he didn’t believe a word out of his fucking mouth, “You’ll have no problem with showing me your back then.” “Tae…” Jeongguk whispered, brown eyes pleading with him. He looked like he was about ready to break down. Taehyung was stubborn and would not give up, he already knew. “You saw what happened with Woozi. Sometimes there are punishments that may look bad, but they’re not. It’s all consensual and agreed upon.” “Show me,” Taehyung repeated, the tension in the room growing thick, and suffocating. When Jeongguk continued to remain still, denying him without words, he closed his eyes, raising his voice for the first time – in a long while. Years. “If it’s not as bad as you say it is, then you wouldn’t have hobbled yourself in here, struggling to get out of your fucking clothes! I won’t be able to sleep tonight, until you fucking show me.” Jeongguk nodded somewhat numbly, as he reached for the hem of his shirt, pausing midway when he felt the beginnings of pain. He sucked in his breath and quickly tugged it off, as one would a band-aid. If he thought Taehyung hadn’t seen the pain on his face, he was wrong – too perceptive for his own good. Jeongguk dropped the garment to the floor, the front of his body reflecting the marks from the rope, but they would fade soon. Without having to be told, he slowly turned around, unaware of the condition of his back, but he could hear it in the sharp gasp Taehyung drew. It was bad. Thankfully, the older boy couldn’t see his ass. That hurt twice as much and was probably covered in welts. “Jimin did this to you?” Taehyung asked, already knowing the answer, but it made no sense to him. There was a deep bruise from what was an obvious bite mark – lines of red were dragged down the length of Jeongguk’s back. It looked like a mess, a bloody mess and part of it was Taehyung’s fault. His voice was trembling, “The guy you claim to be in love with?” “You don’t understand,” Jeongguk said, looking over his shoulder, and was met with Taehyung’s expression of complete distraught. The younger might’ve been on the brink of tears, but it was his hyung who was crying. “You can’t blame him for what I want done to me.” “A bath would be better.” Taehyung changed the subject, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, before he raided Jeongguk’s drawers. He pulled out a large black shirt and a pair of boxers. Jeongguk tried again, “Tae…” “The Epsom salt isn’t good for wounds, but,” Taehyung said, talking a mile a minute. “…we can put some Neosporin on the cuts and then uhm, lots of those Finding Nemo band-aids…” “My–Jimin already put cream on them, and at one point, he even dressed them, but I took the bandages off before I got home.” He didn’t want Taehyung to see them in the garbage the next morning. The marks only needed more cream, nothing major. The whole thing was a bit dramatic in his opinion, even if Jeongguk enjoyed being cared for, and coddled. Taehyung was already at the bathroom door, Jeongguk slowly trailing behind him. He was yanking the shower curtain to one side. “Hold on, hyung will clean it first,” he said, as he started scrubbing the porcelain with a Magic Eraser. Taehyung was known for being an anxious person, cleaning things, and talking fast when it got the better of him.           Jeongguk swallowed, thickly, emotions tight in his throat. “Tae, you don’t have to…” He stood up when he was finished, a shaking hand turning the faucet on to adjust the water to his own preference. “Feel the temperature. Tell me if it’s okay.” Jeongguk humored him, wiggling his fingers beneath the spray. “It’s perfect.” “Oh! Your socks,” Taehyung said, as he slowly backed away from him. “I’ll go get them for you, unless you need help with your jeans?” “No – I shouldn’t, but Tae, I don’t…” Taehyung stopped him right there. “Socks are important, they do a lot to keep us warm, you know.” He walked into the room, continuing to go on and on about the amazing comfort. But in all honesty, Taehyung wasn’t interested in socks. He also didn’t want to hear the cries of pain once Jeongguk finally sat himself down in the tub. No, he didn’t want to see the rest of the damage left all over his friend’s body, due to his, his – Kim fucking Taehyung’s behavior. What Taehyung truly wanted was the keys to the car. And he’d found them on top of Jeongguk’s bed from where he’d tossed them so that he could fail to shed out of his coat. Taehyung scooped them up, loudly saying something about the wonders of fuzzy socks, before he pulled on his scarf, and stepped out into the hallway of their dormitory. It took Taehyung a moment to ground himself enough to be able to drive, smoothing his hands flat against the closed door. He felt apologetic for the anger that was currently surging through him, for the fact that Jeongguk would not approve of what he was about to do next. He might not even be able to forgive Taehyung after tonight. He really was going to break Jimin’s wrist. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- TBC Oh, hell. It’s a glossary. Bight - a loop of rope, as distinct from the rope's ends. Lark’s head knot - a hitch knot used to attach a rope to an object. Sub-drop - the ‘down’ or ‘low’ feeling after BDSM play. Rigger - someone that is a top that specializes in rope bondage, often one that performs suspension riggings. *BDSM test link that literally everyone has taken at some point or another.   

[vampykitty-kun]

Should Learn To Just Stay Home

Rating: M

Characters/Pairing: Bruce/Jason (can be taken one-sided or as mutual), Bruce/Selina, Tim/Kon. Alfred Pennyworth, Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne, Harleen Quinzel, Lucius Fox, Vicki Vale.

Word Count: 2343

Notes: Pre-New 52, canon compliant. Nothing graphic relationship wise. Implied daddy kink. Jason's mostly being a little shit trying to get a rouse out of Bruce in public while he's trying to be "Brucey" for the gala fundraiser. Destruction of a loved vehicle. -x-x-x-x-x-x-

He should have stayed home.

Or better yet, he should have been out on patrol.

The past week had been a terror he never wished to repeat under any circumstances, and he was still wondering deep down whether the entire city had been plotting his demise together, or if he truly was just that unfortunate in his luck by all natural means.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Despite popular belief in Gotham, Bruce- Batman, was in fact only human. Though he was adamant about his refusal to admit so, sometimes after a particularly grueling week of leading a double life he found himself utmostly exhausted, and asking himself the timeless question of “what is my life?”. Alfred and he had strong disagreements over what qualified as overexertion and stretching oneself too thin, but really, who would understand his personal daily limits better than himself? Certainly not Alfred's judgmental eyebrows...

But at the present Bruce was truly willing to admit defeat.

The past week had been a terror he never wished to repeat under any circumstances, and he was still wondering deep down whether the entire city had been plotting his demise together, or if he truly was just that unfortunate in his luck by all natural means.

Not only had it managed to snow in September, causing a city wide panic in which everyone flocked to the stores to fight over groceries, and countless vehicular accidents- most notably Dick's. His eldest's flying Batmobile of choice had dramatically skidded off the rooftop Damian and he had landed on, sliding on the black ice neither boy had been able to see, and ultimately the car had been a total loss. Their cars were sturdy, but not fifteen story drop sturdy. Batman and Robin had ejected their seats and had landed on the slick safety of the roof, surviving to watch the metal crumple in on itself as it hit the pavement with a sickening screech. He had arrived to retrieve them only to find Dick in an utter state of shock still gaping down at his baby's remains in the street below and Damian awkwardly offering a consoling palm on his mentor's shoulder as he mourned the loss.

Never mind that they could fabricate a second one... Dick had always been especially sentimental...

Then of course Victor had to come out of the wood work to celebrate the abnormally early winter wonderland- oddly enough not caused by him, nor the other cold based rogues the League dealt with (he had so been hoping to place the blame on something other than nature), and that had been a catastrophe to contain. A word he used loosely when faced with over seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars in property damage downtown...

Of course such events only managed to get the other local rogues fired up and in a festive mood, and not two days after several buildings became ice sculptures, a riot broke out within Arkham, and several escapes somehow managed to occur. One of these days Bruce was going to revolt and uproot the entire staff, before hand-picking his own employees for payroll, while letting Lucius and Tim work out a security system that was true to the word overkill. He was getting awfully tired of various levels of workers taking bribes, being controlled via drugs, poison and/or pollen, and shapeshifters managing to fool other guards. He and Gordon had bonded over this very topic just a month prior over rooftop coffee, glares, and exasperated sighs. Jim truly needed a vacation.

The escapees this go around? The Riddler, Penguin, and Ivy were the only heavy hitters, accompanied by several less worrisome inmates. He was relieved that none of the more volatile rogues had managed to make a get away.

Was it wrong to be happy that he was unable to find any trace of the three? Perhaps. But quiet rogues enjoying their freedom in hiding was far better than three rogues having escaped to wreak premeditated havoc on the city. In time they would each come out of hiding on their own and he would inevitably pick them up then. Instead, he managed to recover ninety percent of the other various inmates that had escaped along side them within seventy-two hours, even with other things keeping him preoccupied.

Other things like Harleen leaving Damian strung up like a piñata with a pair of cat ears and a tail added to his ensemble while he pursued Selina four blocks over. Somehow he shouldn't have been surprised when they looped back around and the blonde was gone. Even more so when Selina snapped a few photos of his son with her phone, cooed, then licked her way into his mouth, arms draped around his neck. He certainly should have anticipated the small dagger that ended up lodged in the meat of his shoulder while she gracefully leapt away- with his dignity, and he wrenched the blade back through the torn kevlar. If he took photos of Damian discreetly before cutting him down he rationalized that his son was better off none the wiser.

Alfred promptly framed one.

Damian began the 'silent treatment' with both of them for the betrayal...

Then came the security hack at Wayne tower. Nothing of any value had been accessed, mostly due to Tim's alarms and quick maneuvering, but the fact that anyone had had the audacity to attempt a break through had Tim snarling as his agitated strokes abused his poor keyboards, and Bruce had left the young man's office shaking his head, not wanting to touch that with a ten foot pole. Barbara had informed him hours later that Tim had found the source of the intrusion, and several cups of coffee later he had not only fixed the systems so it could never be re-attempted, but that Tim had decimated the party's systems beyond recovery in a fit of tech. vengeance that had left him smiling contently- but with a tick to a brow. Bruce had not wanted to see the feed from Oracle's conversation with him, but of course Barbara was cruel, and he was certain the shudder that had gone through his body seeing the teen's face was going to repeat and haunt him for weeks.

No one ever touched Tim or Barbara's system's twice.

On the sixth night of the week he was subjected to the gala fundraiser from hell. Mandatory- or so Alfred and Lucius insisted, Bruce was certain at this point that they merely enjoyed to see him suffer humanity. He perhaps could have tolerated it, he had countless times before, if the boys had managed to maintain proper human civilian behavior throughout the night instead of bringing chaos- or if they had merely stayed at their respective homes.

He should have stayed home.

Or better yet, he should have been out on patrol.

Three hours in he had begun to pray for catastrophe to end the event.

Dick was tipsy, and had already demonstrated a back-flip for a small cluster of awed wealthy teens and was moving on to more elaborate acrobatics by the time he had managed to make his way over to the group and scruff his eldest, dragging him away from a chorus of boos. After planting him at a table where he would hopefully settle down Bruce had returned to reluctant mingling.

He was half way through his fourth tumbler of seltzer, playing the boozed playboy, when suddenly an arm far from feminine had skirted around his waist, joined by a chin resting on his shoulder. Before he could turn to face who he had wrongly assumed was a newly mobile clingy Dick, the arm around his waist shifted until a firm hand slid to his thigh and squeezed sensually. One of the ladies in from of him squeaked at the sight and he froze.

“That suit makes you look delicious... I should come to these more often, Daddy.” Jason- whom Bruce hadn't the slightest idea how he had managed to get in to the event, purred behind him.

Unfortunately not quiet enough for it to go undetected by the gaggle of ladies around him. Ladies who were now in various states of shock, amusement, arousal, and disgust.

With the week he had been having he should have known better than to be comforted by an utter lack of Red Hood and/or Scarlet. Really, why had he taken that as a good sign? Why had he been praying for catastrophe?

Pure idiocy, that's why.

“Broooose, I haven't seen you in weeks!” he had pouted, scraping stubble across his cheek as he nuzzled Bruce despite the look of mortification on his face. “I've missed our play-dates so much, don't you love me anymore, Sir?” Jason had huffed, corners of his mouth twitching.

He could smell the whiskey on the man's breath but he also knew well enough that Jason was far from plastered. This was intentional and thought out.

Of all the things that could have happened it was quite honestly the last way he had thought that this night would have gone. He could only imagine the thoughts going through the ladies' heads at such a display. Making matters worse he managed to look in the right direction at the right time just fast enough to catch Vicki Vale's very interested approach and he pried himself out of Jason's grasp none too gently.

“Now now Jay, I think you have had more than enough to drink...” He chuckled, hoping the grin not reaching his eyes was passable enough for their audience. “We'll discuss this thoroughly at a time in which you can be properly embarrassed by your behavior...” He snipped, and the Hood only rolled his eyes with a smirk.

“I look forward to it... gonna punish me, B?”

Bruce was sure he was going to have an aneurysm. The migraine was already forming.

Much to his relief Alfred appeared just as he was reaching a fetching shade of purple.

“If you would follow me, Sir, I will deposit you at your home. Ladies, I do home you forgive this young man. I assure you that he will be most embarrassed come morning about being so handsy. Sweet lad did an apprenticeship with Master Bruce a few years ago...” he trailed off, and Bruce watched as the majority seemed to accept the butler's explanation for the scene.

Jason however looked put out over the end of his fun, and reluctantly allowed Alfred to herd him towards the main entrance to the hall.

Bruce gave a nervous laugh once they were out of sight, and glanced over at Vale to see a look of fury on her face, before turning back to his ring of guests.

“Now ladies sorry for that awkward interruption- he really is a sweet boy, just in a rough patch... friends with my boys these days, seems he's harbored a crush...” He cleared his throat, straightening his suit jacket.

And that was that.

Only he should have most definitely called it a night after Alfred's departure.

As though Jason's surprise groping tipsy appearance had not been shocking enough, it certainly hadn't turned out to be the most awkward event of the night.

No, Vicki had managed to miss out on quite the story of groping, and had been out for blood.

His sons were far too careless outside their suits and clearly wanted him grey and wrinkled.

Because before he could even be aware of the situation, Vicki was on top of Tim- or to be more accurate, Conner Kent was on top of Tim, and the teen was very unaware of the audience they held while the half Kryptonian pressed his back into the hall's wall and kept his mouth distracted.

Bruce himself only stumbled upon it by chance- taking a breather from the crowd, and was too late to prevent Vale's hovering and most importantly of all, his son being macked on by Clark's.

When this had developed he wasn't sure, but he was quickly beginning to regret letting Tim spend so much time alone with the buff teen for so many years.

Alfred truly was the better parent. He deserved all the awards. Bruce himself was hopeless.

Although too late, he cleared his throat pointedly and Kent promptly put several feet of distance between the two of them, leaving Tim panting against the wall- where he managed to focus long enough to look up at the woman in horror.

He knew his fate was sealed. That was punishment enough. Bruce remembered fondly the Tamara Fox situation. The boy knew he was screwed.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“I'm heading home to bed... we'll discuss this development after I've gotten a good amount of rest. Be home before midnight.” And with that he had left Tim to handle the situation by himself.

He only managed half undressing before he was asleep face first in his sheets.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Bruce woke with a groan and flaming death in his retinas. He shifted, jamming his face beneath his pillow as Alfred tsked.

“I thought perhaps you would like a morning update of the boys...” The elder man chuckled fondly.

Bruce only whined and burrowed deeper into the Tempur-Pedic mattress.

“Before sundown they're your sons...” he muttered, muffled by the down pillow.

“While I must congratulate Master Dick and his Disney movies for that reference, I recommend taking a look at this morning's newspaper. That Vale woman is simply just ghastly...” he huffed, smacking Bruce's hip with the rolled newsprint.

The man stiffened and poked his head out reluctantly.

“She had hours, just hours to get things into print and managed it...” He groaned, turning over as he unfolded the mess that was sure to be his life.

And it was.

Front and center on page one was Tim pinned to the tacky wallpapered wall with a tongue down his throat, giant bold print offering explanations for Tim and Tam's called off engagement, affairs, Tim's supposed shame over his sexuality, and much to Bruce's horror, mentions that the apple might not have fallen too far from the tree given the much younger man seen in Bruce's company last night that had been awfully bold in his affections.

He could just die.

Bruce moaned as he returned to smothering himself with the pillow.

Alfred only laughed as he pulled the curtains closed once more and exited the room.

What was his life?

[adamhgrimes]

There is no 10,000 hour rule

Have you ever heard someone say they are “working toward their 10,000 hours?” I’m sure everyone reading this has heard of the “10,000 hour rule”: the idea, drawn from Malcolm Gladwell’s bestselling book Outliers, that it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert in any field. There’s a big problem with this: the 10,000 number is not real. It’s made up. It is a carefully chosen fabrication intended to sell books, but it causes us to miss the things that are truly important–the things that will move us toward mastery.

It’s a lie!

I think the 10,000 hours rule has been re-hashed enough that everyone knows it, but let’s just cover the broad bases. In his book, Gladwell looked at some research that focused on German violin players. The research found that the “best violinists” accumulated significantly more hours of deliberate practice than did violinists who were to become music educators, noting that that group had to fulfill lower admission requirements.

After creating the 10,000 hour rule from this research, he then finds other narrative examples, such as the Beatles’ time spent playing together and Bill Gate learning coding, and backs into the magical 10,000 hour math. A reasonable extension of this rule, if it were true, would be that that natural talent or ability do not matter (or don’t matter much), and, in fact, might not even exist–all that matters is what you work toward the 10,000 hours to mastery.

There are a few problems with this, but the biggest problem is that it simply is not and never was true. Gladwell did not conduct the research himself. Rather, he took the work done in this paper: The Role of Deliberate Practice in the Acquisition of Expert Performance (1993) by Anders Ericsson, Krampe, and Tesch-Romer and used that as the seed for a best-selling book.  Gladwell is a great writer and knows how to craft a story, but that story does not reflect a solid understanding of the actual research.

For example, he cherry picked the 10,000 hours from the average of the elite groups’ estimated lifetime practice at age 20. Had he picked another age, he wouldn’t have come up with such a memorable number, and probably wouldn’t have sold many books! At any rate, the 10,000 was an average, hiding a vast range between the high and low, and half of the violinists had not reached 10,000 hours by age twenty. Gladwell claimed conclusively that they all had; whether this was his misunderstanding of the research or a willful misrepresentation to strengthen his 10,000 hour narrative, we do not know. He then took this idea and extended it to other examples, fabricating a record for the Beatles and Bill Gates to explain their success in diverse fields as a product of 10,000 hours of “practice”.

Too many people who should have known better (particularly in the field of trading), but it’s a very catchy idea that plays to our idea of the importance of passion and hard work. Pop cultuer seized on the idea, and it’s become deeply entrenched. At the same time, people who do understand the issues have pushed back. The whole concept of 10,000 hours has been roundly criticized by scientists, perhaps none more so than Anders Ericsson himself, who has said that Gladwell simply didn’t understand the research. Other writers have pointed out that mastery can be achieved in far less than 10,000 hours, and some people can never attain mastery, and that different fields require very different investments… the list of objections goes on. In the storm of controversy, Malcom Gladwell had this to say about the book:

Yes. There is a lot of confusion about the 10,000 rule that I talk about in Outliers. It doesn’t apply to sports. And practice isn’t a SUFFICIENT condition for success. I could play chess for 100 years and I’ll never be a grandmaster. The point is simply that natural ability requires a huge investment of time in order to be made manifest. Unfortunately, sometimes complex ideas get oversimplified in translation.

So there it is in a nutshell: complex ideas get oversimplified in translation.

Why we care

Let me give you a few examples, drawn from my experience. If we approach mastery with the idea that we need to push toward some mythical goal of 10,000 hours, we start thinking of ways to do just that, and this is a lot of time. For reference, if you work a standard 40 hour work week and took no vacations during the year, you’d hit your 10,000 hours somewhere before year 5. On the other end of the scale, if you imagine a serious hobby at which you spend 10 hours a week (2 hours a day 5 days a week, or maybe 6 hours on the weekend with a sprinkling through the week–realistic for most serious hobbies), it would take you 20 years to reach 10,000 hours. Something you do only occasionally throughout the week? You probably wouldn’t get there in a lifetime.

Now, here’s our first clue that something might be wrong: how many people have logged far more than 10,000 hours in careers, but have not achieved “mastery” (whatever that means) in those fields? There are good reasons for that, and we’ll get to those reasons in my next post. But if you convince people that logging these hours is the key to success, a surprising number of people will start working toward that goal. Here are some specific things I’ve seen:

Traders at a prop firm, probably laboring under the Puritanically-derived American “work ethic” that hard work should be miserable and require long hours, planning on getting to the desk early in the morning, sitting there all day, and staying until evening so they can work toward their 10,000 hours.

There’s a community (or was) of people learning self-taught piano playing who record their practice hours toward 10,000 hours.

Well-meaning online communities of traders encouraging each other and saying they just gotta put in the screen time and log their 10,000 hours. Traders have always thought (wrongly) that learning to trade was just a matter of logging “screentime”, but once the book came out some traders went nuts. I read a sad blog of a kid who graduated from college and passed on job offers so he could spend the next 3 years working toward his 10,000 hours… on a simulator.

There’s a community of online creative writers who set writing projects for themselves to work toward the goal of the mythical 10,000 hours…

You get the point. Pop science is a dangerous drug, but the messages resonate for a reason–because they are catchy and memorable–not because they are right.

What else matters

The discussion about the 10,000 hours cuts right to the heart of the nature/nurture divide. On one side, people say that genes and natural ability are all that matters, and the other side says that it’s all training and anyone can learn to do anything. (If you want a shortcut to the truth, it’s usually in the middle of any argument.) The 10,000 hours is all about hard work, but what else might matter? We now have some solid research that quantifies the effect hard work has on achievements in different fields. In the 2014 paper Deliberate Practice and Performance in Music, Games, Sports, Education, and Professions: A Meta-Analysis, authors Macnamara  et al conclude:

researchers proposed that individual differences in performance in such domains as music, sports, and games largely reflect individual differences in amount of deliberate practice…. This view is a frequent topic of popular science writing—but is it supported by empirical evidence? To answer this question, we conducted a meta-analysis covering all major domains in which deliberate practice has been investigated. We found that deliberate practice explained 26% of the variance in performance for games, 21% for music, 18% for sports, 4% for education, and less than 1% for professions. We conclude that deliberate practice is important, but not as important as has been argued.

So what else might matter? That’s the right question, and it is also the topic of my next post.

  There is no 10,000 hour rule was originally published on Adam H Grimes

[preciousmetals0]

Google’s New CEO; Kodiak’s Rally Is Unbearable; Tesla Stock $1

Google’s New CEO; Kodiak’s Rally Is Unbearable; Tesla Stock $1:

Mr. Trump’s Wild Ride

Hold on to your hats, ’cause we’re going on quite a ride over the next week.

Yesterday, President Trump appeared to punt the U.S.-China trade deal until after the 2020 elections. Today, however, we’re getting a different story. (And if you’re not used to this back-and-forth by now, you’re not paying attention.)

Bright and early this morning, Bloomberg reported that the U.S. and China are moving even closer to a “phase-one” trade deal. Where is Bloomberg getting its information?

Why, the infamous “people familiar with the talks,” of course!

According to these people, the two sides need only agree on issues including Chinese agricultural purchases and which tariffs to roll back. The “people who shall not be named” also said that the markets were making too big a deal out of Trump’s off-the-cuff comments about stalling until 2020.

What’s more, a phase-one U.S.-China trade deal is expected to be reached before tariffs rise on December 15. That’s in less than 11 days.

The Takeaway:

Aside from the obvious “we’ve heard all this before,” there are three very important points to take away from the Bloomberg report:

S. Trade Representative Robert Lighthizer’s office hasn’t responded to the report. So, no official confirmation from the U.S. side.

The Chinese Ministry of Commerce hasn’t responded to the report. So, no official confirmation from the Chinese side.

President Trump hasn’t directly commented on the potential deal.

Great Stuff regulars will remember back on November 5, when I asked: “Who’s winning the U.S.-China trade war?”

At the time, I posited that China had the upper hand due to the reported promise of massive tariff rollbacks. Media reports at the time indicated that at least $112 billion in tariffs were on the table to pass a phase-one deal.

Just three days later, President Trump put the kibosh on the tariff rollback — essentially taking the whole deal off the table.

I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.

President Trump has the last and final word in these trade negotiations. A deal will happen if he wants one — his own words, paraphrased, not mine.

So, call me pessimistic … call me a bear … call me whatever you’d like. I’ll be playing it safe and holding my enthusiasm until a deal is actually signed and we can read the details.

In the meantime, there’s nothing that says we can’t profit off the continuation of the Great Stuff Trade War Cycle chart. I just updated it this morning:

I’ll add one more thing here. If you are trading this cycle, remember that we have just 11 days until the December 15 deadline for tariff increases. We could go through this cycle rather rapidly if U.S. representatives, China or Trump decide to get chatty.

Be warned: Trading the chart might not be for the faint of heart over the next week.

The Good: Turn the Page

It’s the end of an era at Alphabet Inc. (Nasdaq: GOOG).

Google cofounders Larry Page and Sergey Brin are stepping down from their positions at Alphabet. Taking their place at the head of the world’s most popular search engine is Google CEO Sundar Pichai. Pichai will now head both Google and its parent company, Alphabet.

Despite the high-profile announcement, Pichai and Chief Financial Officer Ruth Porat have essentially run Alphabet for some time now. Pichai actually testified in front of Congress in 2016 … not Page or Brin.

So, what does this mean for investors? Pretty much nothing. Honestly, Pichai unofficially took the reins of Alphabet nearly two years ago. It should still be business as usual.

However, analysts are speculating that we may finally see YouTube revenue figures. Alphabet wasn’t required to disclose these figures before because Page — the company’s appointed decision-maker — didn’t see them. Seems like an odd loophole in reporting requirements, but it is what it is.

Pichai, however, does see these reports. So, investors might finally get a peek at YouTube’s revenue.

Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen.

The Bad: Weak in the Force

For all intents and purposes, Salesforce.com Inc.’s (NYSE: CRM) earnings report was spot-on.

The company beat both top- and bottom-line expectations, with earnings up 32% and revenue soaring 33% year over year. Subscription revenue spiked 32%, and even billings were above the consensus estimate of $3.89 billion.

Guidance is where things started to go wrong … if you can call it that. Forecasts for the 2020 fiscal year were above Wall Street’s projections, but Salesforce put 2021 revenue projections below the consensus estimate. How far below? About $500 million.

If you’re thinking that this isn’t a “bad” quarterly report at all, you’re not alone. Analysts from Morgan Stanley, Goldman Sachs, RBC Capital Markets and Wedbush Securities all came out to defend Salesforce’s quarterly report.

That’s quite a star-studded cast. And it might explain why CRM is down more than 3% after what was a solid financial performance. Essentially, there’s too much optimism on CRM right now. So much so that a $500 million miss on revenue guidance two years from now is enough to prompt investors to sell.

That’s bad. It’s a sign that CRM might need a profit-taking correction to wash out the weak hands before the shares can turn higher once again.

The Ugly: The Un-Bear-able Rise

In the past three trading sessions, shares of Kodiak Sciences Inc. (Nasdaq: KOD) have surged an astonishing 100%.

Part of the reason is the increased bullish hype in the biotech sector, driven by merger and acquisition speculation.

But the big reason is that Kodiak just sold a 4.5% royalty right on potential global net sales of its experimental drug for eye disease, KSI-301. New York investment firm Baker Bros. Advisors shelled out $225 million for the rights.

Investors are excited because now Kodiak has the cash to fund operations through the next couple of years, at least. But Kodiak doesn’t get all that cash up front. It’ll need to pay $100 million just to close the transaction, and it’ll need to reach 50% enrollment in two late-stage clinical studies of KSI-301 in treating retinal vein occlusion, or blocked blood flow in the eye.

By now, you’re probably wondering why this is “ugly.” Well, the $225 million apparently wasn’t enough for Kodiak. Or, it saw the massive run-up in its shares and decided to take advantage of the situation.

Today, the company announced it was pricing a public offering of six million common shares at $46 per share — 55% above last Friday’s closing price.

This is clearly a smart business move, but my mind can’t get past the convenience of the offering or the KOD share dilution.

Once again, I think there is just too much optimism floating around out there. This is definitely a “buyer beware” situation.

Just when I thought I’d seen everything.

Hollywood is actually making WeWork: The Movie. I kid you not. They’ve even gotten Charles Randolph, the writer for The Big Short, to do the script.

This brings up two points. First, Hollywood really is out of good ideas. Second, who wants this movie? I’m not going to see it. If you’ve followed Great Stuff through the WeDebacle, you already watched this live.

Then again, given the media reports of former CEO Adam Neumann’s pot smoking and parties … this could be a fun ride. Look, I even made a poster for it:

(Side note: Did anyone actually see The Disaster Artist? I thought not.)

Great STUF: Buy Into Tesla for $1!

Did that heading get your attention?

I thought it might. You’re probably thinking: “There’s no way I can buy into Tesla for $1. It’s more than $300 per share, you fool!”

First, there’s no need for name-calling. I’m rubber and you’re glue, after all.

Second, yes, there is a way. And none other than Banyan Hill expert Paul Mampilly himself has the answer!

Paul found the quickest and easiest way to buy into some of the most exciting and explosive stocks on the market. Paul likes to call these his STUF stocks — a handy little acronym for the key stocks that represent the heart of Bold Profits: innovation, future, new-world ideas and tech that changes the way we live.

This is truly great STUF … if you catch my drift.

I know you’re dying to know more, so read Paul’s latest article now! Here, I’ll even give you the link: “Easiest Way to Buy STUF Stocks (Ex: Buy Into Tesla for $1).”

Now, what’s better than a Paul article explaining how to buy into Tesla for $1? A video of Paul explaining how to buy into Tesla for $1!

[embedded content]

But wait! There’s more…

Paul has a free report on all of his STUF stocks, and you can get it right here! (Did I mention it was free? Of course I did.)

You’re still here? OK. You want more Paul. It’s understandable.

The only way to truly satisfy your craving for STUF stocks (and Paul Mampilly) is to check out his newsletter, Profits Unlimited.

Click here to find out how to start your STUF collection now!

(I feel like there are too many exclamation points down here. Are there too many? Nah. Just the right amount.)

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

[goldira01]

Mr. Trump’s Wild Ride

Hold on to your hats, ’cause we’re going on quite a ride over the next week.

Yesterday, President Trump appeared to punt the U.S.-China trade deal until after the 2020 elections. Today, however, we’re getting a different story. (And if you’re not used to this back-and-forth by now, you’re not paying attention.)

Bright and early this morning, Bloomberg reported that the U.S. and China are moving even closer to a “phase-one” trade deal. Where is Bloomberg getting its information?

Why, the infamous “people familiar with the talks,” of course!

According to these people, the two sides need only agree on issues including Chinese agricultural purchases and which tariffs to roll back. The “people who shall not be named” also said that the markets were making too big a deal out of Trump’s off-the-cuff comments about stalling until 2020.

What’s more, a phase-one U.S.-China trade deal is expected to be reached before tariffs rise on December 15. That’s in less than 11 days.

The Takeaway:

Aside from the obvious “we’ve heard all this before,” there are three very important points to take away from the Bloomberg report:

S. Trade Representative Robert Lighthizer’s office hasn’t responded to the report. So, no official confirmation from the U.S. side.

The Chinese Ministry of Commerce hasn’t responded to the report. So, no official confirmation from the Chinese side.

President Trump hasn’t directly commented on the potential deal.

Great Stuff regulars will remember back on November 5, when I asked: “Who’s winning the U.S.-China trade war?”

At the time, I posited that China had the upper hand due to the reported promise of massive tariff rollbacks. Media reports at the time indicated that at least $112 billion in tariffs were on the table to pass a phase-one deal.

Just three days later, President Trump put the kibosh on the tariff rollback — essentially taking the whole deal off the table.

I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.

President Trump has the last and final word in these trade negotiations. A deal will happen if he wants one — his own words, paraphrased, not mine.

So, call me pessimistic … call me a bear … call me whatever you’d like. I’ll be playing it safe and holding my enthusiasm until a deal is actually signed and we can read the details.

In the meantime, there’s nothing that says we can’t profit off the continuation of the Great Stuff Trade War Cycle chart. I just updated it this morning:

I’ll add one more thing here. If you are trading this cycle, remember that we have just 11 days until the December 15 deadline for tariff increases. We could go through this cycle rather rapidly if U.S. representatives, China or Trump decide to get chatty.

Be warned: Trading the chart might not be for the faint of heart over the next week.

The Good: Turn the Page

It’s the end of an era at Alphabet Inc. (Nasdaq: GOOG).

Google cofounders Larry Page and Sergey Brin are stepping down from their positions at Alphabet. Taking their place at the head of the world’s most popular search engine is Google CEO Sundar Pichai. Pichai will now head both Google and its parent company, Alphabet.

Despite the high-profile announcement, Pichai and Chief Financial Officer Ruth Porat have essentially run Alphabet for some time now. Pichai actually testified in front of Congress in 2016 … not Page or Brin.

So, what does this mean for investors? Pretty much nothing. Honestly, Pichai unofficially took the reins of Alphabet nearly two years ago. It should still be business as usual.

However, analysts are speculating that we may finally see YouTube revenue figures. Alphabet wasn’t required to disclose these figures before because Page — the company’s appointed decision-maker — didn’t see them. Seems like an odd loophole in reporting requirements, but it is what it is.

Pichai, however, does see these reports. So, investors might finally get a peek at YouTube’s revenue.

Whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing remains to be seen.

The Bad: Weak in the Force

For all intents and purposes, Salesforce.com Inc.’s (NYSE: CRM) earnings report was spot-on.

The company beat both top- and bottom-line expectations, with earnings up 32% and revenue soaring 33% year over year. Subscription revenue spiked 32%, and even billings were above the consensus estimate of $3.89 billion.

Guidance is where things started to go wrong … if you can call it that. Forecasts for the 2020 fiscal year were above Wall Street’s projections, but Salesforce put 2021 revenue projections below the consensus estimate. How far below? About $500 million.

If you’re thinking that this isn’t a “bad” quarterly report at all, you’re not alone. Analysts from Morgan Stanley, Goldman Sachs, RBC Capital Markets and Wedbush Securities all came out to defend Salesforce’s quarterly report.

That’s quite a star-studded cast. And it might explain why CRM is down more than 3% after what was a solid financial performance. Essentially, there’s too much optimism on CRM right now. So much so that a $500 million miss on revenue guidance two years from now is enough to prompt investors to sell.

That’s bad. It’s a sign that CRM might need a profit-taking correction to wash out the weak hands before the shares can turn higher once again.

The Ugly: The Un-Bear-able Rise

In the past three trading sessions, shares of Kodiak Sciences Inc. (Nasdaq: KOD) have surged an astonishing 100%.

Part of the reason is the increased bullish hype in the biotech sector, driven by merger and acquisition speculation.

But the big reason is that Kodiak just sold a 4.5% royalty right on potential global net sales of its experimental drug for eye disease, KSI-301. New York investment firm Baker Bros. Advisors shelled out $225 million for the rights.

Investors are excited because now Kodiak has the cash to fund operations through the next couple of years, at least. But Kodiak doesn’t get all that cash up front. It’ll need to pay $100 million just to close the transaction, and it’ll need to reach 50% enrollment in two late-stage clinical studies of KSI-301 in treating retinal vein occlusion, or blocked blood flow in the eye.

By now, you’re probably wondering why this is “ugly.” Well, the $225 million apparently wasn’t enough for Kodiak. Or, it saw the massive run-up in its shares and decided to take advantage of the situation.

Today, the company announced it was pricing a public offering of six million common shares at $46 per share — 55% above last Friday’s closing price.

This is clearly a smart business move, but my mind can’t get past the convenience of the offering or the KOD share dilution.

Once again, I think there is just too much optimism floating around out there. This is definitely a “buyer beware” situation.

Just when I thought I’d seen everything.

Hollywood is actually making WeWork: The Movie. I kid you not. They’ve even gotten Charles Randolph, the writer for The Big Short, to do the script.

This brings up two points. First, Hollywood really is out of good ideas. Second, who wants this movie? I’m not going to see it. If you’ve followed Great Stuff through the WeDebacle, you already watched this live.

Then again, given the media reports of former CEO Adam Neumann’s pot smoking and parties … this could be a fun ride. Look, I even made a poster for it:

(Side note: Did anyone actually see The Disaster Artist? I thought not.)

Great STUF: Buy Into Tesla for $1!

Did that heading get your attention?

I thought it might. You’re probably thinking: “There’s no way I can buy into Tesla for $1. It’s more than $300 per share, you fool!”

First, there’s no need for name-calling. I’m rubber and you’re glue, after all.

Second, yes, there is a way. And none other than Banyan Hill expert Paul Mampilly himself has the answer!

Paul found the quickest and easiest way to buy into some of the most exciting and explosive stocks on the market. Paul likes to call these his STUF stocks — a handy little acronym for the key stocks that represent the heart of Bold Profits: innovation, future, new-world ideas and tech that changes the way we live.

This is truly great STUF … if you catch my drift.

I know you’re dying to know more, so read Paul’s latest article now! Here, I’ll even give you the link: “Easiest Way to Buy STUF Stocks (Ex: Buy Into Tesla for $1).”

Now, what’s better than a Paul article explaining how to buy into Tesla for $1? A video of Paul explaining how to buy into Tesla for $1!

[embedded content]

But wait! There’s more…

Paul has a free report on all of his STUF stocks, and you can get it right here! (Did I mention it was free? Of course I did.)

You’re still here? OK. You want more Paul. It’s understandable.

The only way to truly satisfy your craving for STUF stocks (and Paul Mampilly) is to check out his newsletter, Profits Unlimited.

Click here to find out how to start your STUF collection now!

(I feel like there are too many exclamation points down here. Are there too many? Nah. Just the right amount.)

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

[sheminecrafts]

The real threat to Facebook is the Kool-Aid turning sour

These kinds of leaks didn’t happen when I started reporting on Facebook eight years ago. It was a tight-knit cult convinced of its mission to connect everyone, but with the discipline of a military unit where everyone knew loose lips sink ships. Motivational posters with bold corporate slogans dotted its offices, rallying the troops. Employees were happy to be evangelists.

But then came the fake news, News Feed addiction, violence on Facebook Live, cyberbullying, abusive ad targeting, election interference and, most recently, the Cambridge Analytica app data privacy scandals. All the while, Facebook either willfully believed the worst case scenarios could never come true, was naive to their existence or calculated the benefits and growth outweighed the risks. And when finally confronted, Facebook often dragged its feet before admitting the extent of the issues.

Inside the social network’s offices, the bonds began to fray. An ethics problem metastisized into a morale problem. Slogans took on sinister second meanings. The Kool-Aid tasted different.

Some hoped they could right the ship but couldn’t. Some craved the influence and intellectual thrill of running one of humanity’s most popular inventions, but now question if that influence and their work is positive. Others surely just wanted to collect salaries, stock and resumé highlights, but lost the stomach for it.

Now the convergence of scandals has come to a head in the form of constant leaks.

The trouble tipping point

The more benign leaks merely cost Facebook a bit of competitive advantage. We’ve learned it’s building a smart speaker, a standalone VR headset and a Houseparty split-screen video chat clone.

Yet policy-focused leaks have exacerbated the backlash against Facebook, putting more pressure on the conscience of employees. As blame fell to Facebook for Trump’s election, word of Facebook prototyping a censorship tool for operating in China escaped, triggering questions about its respect for human rights and free speech. Facebook’s content rulebook got out alongside disturbing tales of the filth the company’s contracted moderators have to sift through. Its ad targeting was revealed to be able to pinpoint emotionally vulnerable teens.

In recent weeks, the leaks have accelerated to a maddening pace in the wake of Facebook’s soggy apologies regarding the Cambridge Analytica debacle. Its weak policy enforcement left the door open to exploitation of data users gave third-party apps, deepening the perception that Facebook doesn’t care about privacy.

And it all culminated with BuzzFeed publishing a leaked “growth at all costs” internal post from Facebook VP Andrew “Boz” Bosworth that substantiated people’s worst fears about the company’s disregard for user safety in pursuit of world domination. Even the ensuing internal discussion about the damage caused by leaks and how to prevent them…leaked.

But the leaks are not the disease, just the symptom. Sunken morale is the cause, and it’s dragging down the company. Former Facebook employee and Wired writer Antonio Garcia Martinez sums it up, saying this kind of vindictive, intentionally destructive leak fills Facebook’s leadership with “horror”:

The fact that some Facebooker would place their personal grudge and views above the interests of the company fills anyone on the home team with horror (in the same way that the current administration colluding with foreigners to secure a domestic victory does Americans).

— Antonio García Martínez (@antoniogm) March 30, 2018

And that sentiment was confirmed by Facebook’s VP of News Feed Adam Mosseri, who tweeted that leaks “create strong incentives to be less transparent internally and they certainly slow us down,” and will make it tougher to deal with the big problems.

I’m really worried about this. I worry it’ll make it much more difficult to step up to the challenges we face.

— Adam Mosseri (@mosseri) March 30, 2018

Those thoughts weigh heavy on Facebook’s team. A source close to several Facebook executives tells us they feel “embarrassed to work there” and are increasingly open to other job opportunities. One current employee told us to assume anything certain execs tell the media is “100% false.”

If Facebook can’t internally discuss the problems it faces without being exposed, how can it solve them?

Implosion

The consequences of Facebook’s failures are typically pegged as external hazards.

You might assume the government will finally step in and regulate Facebook. But the Honest Ads Act and other rules about ads transparency and data privacy could end up protecting Facebook by being simply a paperwork speed bump for it while making it tough for competitors to build a rival database of personal info. In our corporation-loving society, it seems unlikely that the administration would go so far as to split up Facebook, Instagram and WhatsApp — one of the few feasible ways to limit the company’s power.

Users have watched Facebook make misstep after misstep over the years, but can’t help but stay glued to its feed. Even those who don’t scroll rely on it as a fundamental utility for messaging and login on other sites. Privacy and transparency are too abstract for most people to care about. Hence, first-time Facebook downloads held steady and its App Store rank actually rose in the week after the Cambridge Analytica fiasco broke. In regards to the #DeleteFacebook movement, Mark Zuckerberg himself said “I don’t think we’ve seen a meaningful number of people act on that.” And as long as they’re browsing, advertisers will keep paying Facebook to reach them.

That’s why the greatest threat of the scandal convergence comes from inside. The leaks are the canary in the noxious blue coal mine.

Can Facebook survive slowing down?

If employees wake up each day unsure whether Facebook’s mission is actually harming the world, they won’t stay. Facebook doesn’t have the same internal work culture problems as some giants like Uber. But there are plenty of other tech companies with less questionable impacts. Some are still private and offer the chance to win big on an IPO or acquisition. At the very least, those in the Bay could find somewhere to work without a spending hours a day on the traffic-snarled 101 freeway.

If they do stay, they won’t work as hard. It’s tough to build if you think you’re building a weapon. Especially if you thought you were going to be making helpful tools. The melancholy and malaise set in. People go into rest-and-vest mode, living out their days at Facebook as a sentence not an opportunity. The next killer product Facebook needs a year or two from now might never coalesce.

And if they do work hard, a culture of anxiety and paralysis will work against them. No one wants to code with their hands tied, and some would prefer a less scrutinized environment. Every decision will require endless philosophizing and risk-reduction. Product changes will be reduced to the lowest common denominator, designed not to offend or appear too tyrannical.

Source: Volkan Furuncu/Anadolu Agency + David Ramos/Getty Images

In fact, that’s partly how Facebook got into this whole mess. A leak by an anonymous former contractor led Gizmodo to report Facebook was suppressing conservative news in its Trending section. Terrified of appearing liberally biased, Facebook reportedly hesitated to take decisive action against fake news. That hands-off approach led to the post-election criticism that degraded morale and pushed the growing snowball of leaks down the mountain.

It’s still rolling.

How to stop morale’s downward momentum will be one of Facebook’s greatest tests of leadership. This isn’t a bug to be squashed. It can’t just roll back a feature update. And an apology won’t suffice. It will have to expel or reeducate the leakers and those disloyal without instilling a witch hunt’s sense of dread. Compensation may have to jump upwards to keep talent aboard like Twitter did when it was floundering. Its top brass will need to show candor and accountability without fueling more indiscretion. And it may need to make a shocking, landmark act of contrition to convince employees its capable of change.

When asked how Facebook could address the morale problem, Mosseri told me “it starts with owning our mistakes and being very clear about what we’re doing now” and noted that “it took a while to get into this place and I think it’ll take a while to work our way out.”

I think it starts with owning our mistakes and being very clear about what we’re doing now. For much of the company November 2016 was their first negative cycle, so it’s also good to share old stories. And then you have to deliver, you have to make real progress on the issues.

— Adam Mosseri (@mosseri) March 30, 2018

This isn’t about whether Facebook will disappear tomorrow, but whether it will remain unconquerable for the forseeable future.

Growth has been the driving mantra for Facebook since its inception. No matter how employees are evaluated, it’s still the underlying ethos. Facebook has poised itself as a mission-driven company. The implication was always that connecting people is good so connecting more people is better. The only question was how to grow faster.

Now Zuckerberg will have to figure out how to get Facebook to cautiously foresee the consequences of what it says and does while remaining an appealing place to work. “Move slow and think things through” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

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