#like 75% of the time anyway. and that's only assuming they accepted the offering of food in the first place | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pinkbelugacollective · 4 years ago

Note

Damn there’s a lot to cover so it’ll be in a few parts I’m anon bc I think ur cool and I want us to be on good terms but I’m not sure yet if we can disagree politely ;(

I got to disagree with you on some parts like Julius callously just straight up collecting ppl like Pokémon. He simply selected people who he thought had cool magic and a potential to be good warriors. He is both childish and ambitious. Simple as that.

He knew he had to create a strong squad so he could be WK one day and he did it in the nicest way possible. He helped Yami become more acquainted with the language and culture and made him a strong knight. He did the same thing for William. He showed kindness and respect when William had none and helped with his insecurities. William knew that realistically speaking, not everyone is going to accept his visage as graciously as Julius so he was content with at least one person(whom he regarded highly) knowing and accepting him. Giving someone a purpose and the will to live not a bad thing yk?

But at the same time, he achieved his goal to be Wizard King without stepping on anyone.

Though I have to agree that he flopped as WK to achieve what he wanted.

So I will preface this with four things:

Really, I am just a Siberian sheep farmer, and thus you are welcome to post a dissenting opinion at any time. I do not bite!! The rest of your asks are under the cut. :D

I have never read the light novels.

My knowledge is 75% anime, 25% manga. I started the anime and watched all the way to the beginning of the Heart mini-arc. Then I stopped and read the manga from where the anime stopped. Therefore, I only have knowledge of the story through the anime up to volume 23. Volumes 23 onwards, I’ve been manga-exclusive until recently, now that the anime is adapting from the manga.

I am a crackhead.

So for the Pokemon part, I was referring to Yami, but like... How you describe Julius is exactly how I’d imagine a Pokemon trainer. He’s a forty-year-old man and his passion in life is to look at shiny magic things, and that’s OK! Julius is an eccentric man, and there’s never anything wrong about being passionate about the things you love.

But at the same time, Julius’ passion is also one of his primary weapons because he did recruit William and Yami specifically because they had interesting/rare magic, and despite how passionate he is about magic, they were recruited for the military. They were also, arguably, at their most vulnerable when Julius came along. Yami was poor, illiterate in the Clover language, and not ashamed to walk off with a stranger for a simple meal, whereas William was basically the Clover equivalent of weird lil forest boy. Now, do I think Julius recruited them because he planned to take over the world? Absolutely not! But he did manage to recruit them into a system he would, eventually, go on to oversee, so it’s very difficult for me to view Julius as some flighty old man just asking cool magic people to join him when he’s shown to be one of the sharpest and coldest people in the room, and intelligent enough to forecast what power he needs to be able to leverage in order to maintain control.

And I agree - he’s ineffective as a leader, and incompetent at his job in general. However, I don’t think his incompetency is just because his head is in the clouds about magic. I think it’s also because of his privileged birth, his aimlessness in life before Zara came along, etc. In any other world, Julius would probably be your favorite archeologist living off daddy’s trust fund, but he’s not that. He’s the head of a military force and the face of a nation, and I truly believe he’s failed both.

As for toxic loyalty.... I would have to disagree. I think superficially Yami is just a dude going about his day, squatting in Mr. Legolant’s house with his Pokemon, but I don’t think Yami is so dumb that he doesn’t recognize how much he’s despised for being a migrant. You’re right, he doesn’t have to be a beacon of change for any other immigrants, but I think it depoliticizes his character and does an overall disservice to his narrative when race/species conflict, class conflict, and genocide are all key themes in the story. You’re right, Yami doesn’t give a fuck most of the time because he’s just not interested in social justice or bringing any meaningful impact to Clover politics, but it’s because he doesn’t give a fuck is the problem. Yami’s complacent in upholding Julius’ institution, just like William is complacent in Patolli’s acts of terror, because regardless of how Yami feels, he’s part of a larger military complex seeking to uphold the Crown, a crown Julius controls as leader of the military.

And I heavily disagree that William wasn’t focused on equality, discrimination, and all that jazz. William’s grimore was not dedicated to Julius pre-elf reincarnation. If it was, William’s struggle in deciding between Patolli and Julius would never have existed because Patolli would have either been contained and or exorcised before it got to the point that it did. More than that, William’s betrayal runs far deeper than the moment he receded to let Patolli chop off Fuegoleon’s arm and put him in a coma. No - William’s betrayal was a decade’s worth of actively building a squadron of bodies that would be fit to hold the souls of the elves once the reincarnation began. I’d argue that William implicitly chose Patolli from the start, even if he explicitly made the case that he didn’t really have a choice. In addition, William was aiding and abetting a terrorist whose entire motivation hinges on the genocide of his people. Sorry to say, but I can’t agree that William didn’t have these things in mind when he was making his choices.

For Fuegoleon and Nozel, I won’t argue they’re seeking to fulfill political ambitions. It’s true! They want the Crown because they want the power and can strive for it due to their position on the hierarchy.

As for overthinking Yami’s behavior... I like to overthink. Lemme tell you why. Yami being aware of Charlotte’s feelings aint the problem, and neither is his him getting into fights with Jack. No, the issue is Yami has a habit of collecting people like Pokemon when people shouldn’t be treated as such!

I make jokes that Yami never got management training, but lemme expand - he hired an ex-con, a mage whose true visage he didn’t learn about until the Underwater Sea Temple arc, an alcoholic with mommy issues, an anxiety-ridden taxi with daddy and brother issues, etc., basically all of the members have some kind of issue that stems from trauma/violence/etc and Yami just invites them to his squad like, literally, it’s a halfway house. Now, the people he recruits are grateful and all, but they’re all fucked up! Every one of them, except Asta.

And that’s why I say Asta was the wake-up call Yami needed, and the character that will drive Yami’s development, because Asta has something Yami doesn’t have - and that’s clarity. Asta’s history, his rise to power, his ambition, all of that hinges on a childhood raised with love and warmth even if he was born with what the kingdom could view as a disability (ie. no magic). Asta knows what he wants because his goals benefit more than just him. Asta wants it for Hage, for his adoptive father, and for his foster family. Asta has his eyes on the prize because his circumstances allowed for him to keep his eyes on the prize.

Yami does not have that level clarity in his life. You said it yourself - Yami isn’t the type to sweat the political stuff, he’s living because he can, and he surpasses his limits because he wants to and not because he has to. He leaves his squad to his business, and he expects them to get their shit together when necessary, but besides that, it’s hands-off.

And that’s where the issue is! Yami is detached from his own squad emotionally. Part of the reason why it’s easy to parentify Yami as the team dad because it’s assumed his detachment is a regular shounen-dad trait, not present but he loves you anyway. I don’t think that’s the case with Yami. I think it runs deeper than that, and part of the reason why Yami can’t bond with his own teammates and actually lead the squad is because he’s overcompensating for his own insecurities and inability to have a clear and necessary vision for his future.

The few times Yami has had to surpass his limits is when he’s had to protect his squad, people who are mentally ill and generally incompetent themselves, and it’s because Yami knows he’s the only one capable of doing it. And that’s a problem! Yami doesn’t offer them the tools to get better mentally and physically. It’s not even a joke anymore because Henry has tried murder-suicide twice in order to win a battle, and it’s for Yami. Before Asta, the Black Bulls were a fractured mess of people with Yami holding them together for dear life, but with Asta, they were able to see life beyond the comforts of the Black Bulls den. Vanessa and Finral faced their traumatic pasts. Grey finally found the courage to enhance her magic. Henry finally came out of the attic. In a way, the Black Bulls are also toxically loyal to Yami because Yami? He’s not a good leader either! Now, is that Yami’s fault? No, but he is responsible for the health and wellbeing of his squad, and his kidnapping by Zenon was testament that he’d ultimately failed in the only real responsibility he’s ever had. Maybe that’s overthinking Yami’s character and motivations, but I think that’s fine.

As for the civil war, that’s just something I would love to see because Bleach never did a Rukongai civil war when we were ripe for it. It’s pure self-indulgence! Of course I know neither Fuegoleon nor Nozel will start a civil war, but I like to think something will, and sometimes I think it will be Asta’s trial... and sometimes I think it will be something completely outta left field, but the concept fascinates me because much of the story is predicated on the ongoing issues of social and political injustice, race/species conflict, even if it’s all fluffed up with cool character designs. Now, a lot of why I want to see Black Clover attempt a civil war is because I hold Tabata to a standard simply because he claims his work is Berserk but for babies. Now, I never thought such a concept would come to light, but as a Berserk stan... I just wanna see if he’s worth his mettle! I think there’s a lot in the story that’s ripe for inter-Clover conflict, but I also understand his limitations. Yes, because it’s shounen, he can’t expand on certain themes, but like, he teases it well enough that it makes it, quite frankly, annoying as heck when he doesn’t pull through. Perhaps it’s my own fault for holding him to the standard, but like, if you gon say you gon write bootleg Berserk, then write bootleg Berserk!!!

I digress. Now, if a civil war were to begin, I honestly think it would be one mainly driven by what happens to Asta post-Spade. If Damnatio turns around and paints him as a hero for having saved the kingdom, then there won’t be any need for a civil war because uwu Asta will become Wizard King and do policy change from the top-down (trickle-down social and poltical justice).

But if Asta were to be charged and jailed anyway, just so he could take the fall for the amount of destruction that’s about to go down, then it doesn’t make sense for there not to be a civil war. Because once Asta goes down, who’s gonna become Wizard King? Yuno? The guy whose birthright is the Spade throne? Even if Yuno remains a Clover citizen, the chances of him becoming Wizard King are next to null because his parentage would be viewed as a conflict of interest.

So really, it’s not a question of who starts the war, but what propels the issue. We already know that in the context of the story, kin punishment exists, so if Asta has to take the fall, who’s to say his family won’t take it too? That the family in Hage and Yuno won’t have to bear the brunt of the blame in order to bring “peace” to the nation.

I’d like Tabata to go the route of a civil war because then he’d be forced to show that the issues in Clover run way deeper than just Augustus and the nobility. It’s their caste-like social structure, lack of infrastructure and resources for the people living in the “outer” areas, their discriminatory practices towards those of lower birth, racism, etc.

But again, that entirely depends on if Tabata wants to tell such a tale, or if he prefers Asta take the assimilationist route, save the day, and become the uwu hero. He can! It’s an easy way to frame things, and mirrors Lumiere’s Big Battle well enough, but I think a war would also be great so that it can really put Asta in a position to exercise his brain in the face of absolute loss, and spark hope from nothing. Asta is my favorite of the new generation of Shounen Jump protags because he has a level of potential I just don’t see in others. He has a drive, but he also has critical thinking skills, and he has a support system when shit gets real. I want to see Asta feel the weight of decisions beyond his control, so that he can experience decision-making from a place of true helplessness, which I honestly think will help him see that there’s more to the dream of being Wizard King than just climbing the ranks. It’s advocating for real change. It’s not only knowing how to empower the people, but also being able to actively challenge injustice in every form. It’s not full-on anarchy like Liebe, but it’s not just assimilationist politicking he was doing earlier. I think with a civil war, Asta will understand that there’s more to his world than just magic, and that he, as a non-magic person, can make change that doesn’t hinge on him following the rule of the law, because the laws have to change, and they can’t change when Asta’s forty and finally Wizard King, they have to happen now. A civil war will expose a lot of the underpinning issues and offer the cast a change to work through them! Also, it makes for good conflict uwu.

But that’s entirely my opinion!!! I’m a HUGE fan of historical political thrillers. Absolutely LOVE that shit. I wanna see it in Black Clover because selfishly, it would make me happy!!

#black clover #yami sukehiro #julius novachrono #real talk

7 notes · View notes

greekletters · 4 years ago

Text

who likes elevators?

hey everyone! back again today with a new one shot.

Prompt: We are trapped

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

That meeting couldn’t have gone any worse than it had. Your presentation was flawless. It was more of an issue with the audience. Just a bunch of old men sitting at a boardroom table, listening to you drone on about technology and how introducing more of it will advance the business they’ve been keeping in the dark ages for years.

Instead of being praised for the innovative thoughts you had, your boss had spent the last half hour shaming you for progressive thought.

Honestly, you don’t know why you keep this job. You absolutely hate it. It makes you feel creatively stunted. Sure, the pay was decent. It allowed you to live comfortably. But you had watched too many of your male coworkers ascend the corporate ladders of this company and many others for accomplishments far less than your own.

So when you step your first solemn footstep into the elevator, you release a heavy sigh of defeat. As the elevator begins to hum and pass from the nearly highest floor down towards the lobby, you start to replay the meeting over in your mind.

What was keeping you here at this trash job? Was the money really enough to compensate for your ambitions? Hardly.

The elevator begins to slow about midway through the journey. When the doors slowly pull apart at the eleventh floor, there it is. The one thing that you want to stick around for. The one thing that made it worth coming to this building for all week. Something that made the menial work you do worth tolerating.

Weiss Schnee.

The Schnee Company took up floors five through eleven of the building. And every now and again, you got a glimpse of the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen in your entire life. In this elevator. And you just weren’t ready to give up this elevator yet. So when Weiss Schnee steps into the elevator with you, you politely nod and step to the side.

“Good afternoon.” She greets you, her voice slightly nasally.

The doors slide shut once again, and the humming of the elevator resumes. Tenth floor, then the ninth. Then you hear something that resembles the sound of the air brake on a bus and a loud grinding sound. And the elevator comes to a slow stop.

“What is going on?” She leans forward and repeatedly presses the button for the lobby.

“I think the motor in the elevator blew. Or at least that’s kind of what it sounded like.”

“Are you some undercover elevator technician,” she looks at the ID badge clipped to your jacket pocket “Blake Belladonna?”

“Um no, definitely not.” You reach across her and hit the emergency alarm button on the panel.

“Hello?” A voice echoes through the intercom. “What is your emergency?”

“Other than being trapped in this damn elevator?” Weiss answers back, annoyance ringing clear as crystal in the metal box.

“We are aware that the elevator has ceased to function as expected. Please don’t be alarmed. We are currently looking into it, Miss Schnee.”

“How do you even know who is in the elevator?”

“You have to scan your ID prior to being able to summon the elevator, for security purposes. Are either you or Miss Belladonna hurt? Will you need medical attention?”

“I’m fine.” You say, leaning against the far wall.

“I require no medical attention. Assuming you are getting us out of here sooner, rather than later.”

“We are doing our best to get the two of you out of there as soon a-“

Before he can finish, the ambient lighting in the elevator cuts out. Leaving only the emergency track lighting at the ceiling edges.

“Great. This is just great. We are, we are-“

“Trapped.” You can’t help but notice the irony of your situation. “We are trapped.”

You are trapped in an elevator with only ambient emergency lighting, with the girl of your dreams, after the literal worst day of work you’ve probably ever had. How could this get any worse?

“Hey!” Weiss starts banging on the door of the elevator, and grasping at the crack where the doors meet trying to force them apart. Crazy. The girl of your dreams might be crazy, or at the very least, claustrophobic. “Get us out of here!”

“Would you like me to help?” You know there’s no point, but you offer anyways.

“With?” She looks at you, questioningly.

“The door?” You point a finger to where she’s been standing and take a few steps toward her.

Carefully, you wedge your fingers in the doorframe and pull with all your might. But the doors don’t budge. Not really surprising. Taking a few steps back, you take your original place and slide down and sit. You have a feeling this isn’t going to be a quick rescue.

“You’re giving up? Already?” Weiss continues trying to pull the doors apart, with no success.

“Well, even if you got the doors open, where do you propose we go? We are in between floors.”

“Perfect.” Her shoulders slouch and she moves to sit a few feet from you. “How do you know so much about the mechanics of elevators?”

“I don’t know much about them. But I do know the motors have a safety feature that keeps the doors from flinging open or slamming shut too quickly. And if the motor is blown, we won’t have enough leverage to override that feature and get the doors to open.”

“What exactly is it that you do here, Blake Belladonna?” She squints her eyes and it makes you a little nervous and uneasy.

“Well um, I work for Ironwood Communications.”

“Doing?”

“Right now I assist the Chief Technology Officer and oversee about 75% of the companies technical support teams.”

“Right now?” She quirks an eyebrow.

“Not sure how much longer that will be the case. I had a huge presentation for technological expansion today and I’m pretty sure it totally bombed.”

“I don’t know much about you, but you seem fairly thorough at risk assessment.” Motioning up to your surroundings.

“Well, the last thing that happened before stepping into this elevator was a reprimanding from my boss about needless changes, the exhaustion of resources and being misaligned with company goals.”

“It couldn’t have been too bad.” Waving her hand to dismiss the notion.

“They didn’t even let me finish the presentation. Told me they would ‘circle back.”

“Ah.” She nods. Knowing full well what that means. The two of you sit in silence for the next few seconds before you hear her clear her throat. “I have an idea. Pitch it to me instead.”

“What?”

“Your presentation. I assume you reviewed it enough to be able to present at least some of it from memory.”

“I suppose I can, if you’re really interested?” This honestly wasn’t the first conversation you had imagined having with your beautiful elevator dream girl.

“Go on.”

And so you give the same presentation, in its entirety, that you gave an hour prior. It takes almost 45 minutes. But this time, Weiss engages with you, asking questions, all of which you answer. After you complete your makeshift presentation, Weiss takes a few moments to ponder something.

“You know, the Schnee Company is currently looking for a new Chief Technology Officer, our current one is looking to retire.” She looks back up at you.

“I heard some people talking about that in the cafeteria the other day.”

“How would you like the job?” The blood in your veins runs cold.

“Wh, what?” You shake your head. “Forgive me, I’m so sorry. But are you offering me a job? In the elevator?”

“Now that sounds foolish, doesn’t it?” She laughs. “But yeah, I think I am.”

“You smiling is unfair.”

“Why is that?” The lights flicker and come back on. And you grab the handle lining the walls and pull yourself off the floor.

“Makes my judgement feel a little clouded, is all.” Extending your hand to help her off the ground, she takes it and hops up, coming face to face with you in the confined space.

The elevator begins to move slowly.

“You want to know one of the best perks about being the Chief Technology Officer of the Schnee Company?”

“The stock options? Or the retirement?”

“When the Chief Financial Officer asks you out, you won’t have to say no because of a conflict of interest with your current company, or due to a fraternization policy. Unless you just really want to say no, which I doubt. And I will also make sure that they compensate you properly for your work.”

The doors slide open and Weiss Schnee steps out into the lobby in front of you.

“Two weeks.” You take a step from the elevator and follow her into the lobby.

“Excuse me?” She tilts her head slightly to one side.

“I would love to accept the position, but I would ask that I can provide proper notice to my current employer.” She shakes her head as though to clear her thoughts.

“Of course. Not a problem.”

“You seem surprised.”

“I honestly didn’t think it would be that easy.”

“Oh, it is the only easy thing about me, Miss Schnee.” She quirks an eyebrow before turning and walking away. And you realize what you just said. “Wait!” You trot after her. “That came out completely wrong.”

“Oh it’s fine, I’m completely up to the challenge.”

She winks at you before walking out of the doorway and to where ever it is that Weiss Schnee goes. Hopefully, you will soon find out.

#rwby monochrome #rwby checkmate #rwby fanfiction #blake belladonna #weiss schnee

27 notes · View notes

precuredaily · 5 years ago

Text

Precure Day 185

Episode: Yes! Precure 5 37 - “Operation Healthy Coco” Date watched: 14 May 2020 Original air date: 21 October 2007 Screenshots: https://imgur.com/a/Sc5B6vA Transformation Gallery: https://imgur.com/a/6k6SzS0 Project info and master list of posts: http://tinyurl.com/PCDabout

what has been seen cannot be unseen

I might get some crap for this but I don’t particularly like this episode either. I think Bloody just had an absolutely fantastic introduction so everything after it for a while is going to feel a bit lackluster. Not to say it doesn’t have some great moments, but.... well, you’ll see.

The Plot

Coco has been scarfing down the cream puffs lately, and the girls are starting to notice when he struggles to push himself up. He appears very rotund as a fairy, but transforms human and says he’s fine. However, Nuts lifts his friend’s shirt to prove otherwise.

make of that what you will

We are never shown exactly what he looks like, but the girls responses tell us all we need to know. Urara in particular is fairly blunt, saying he had a fat and pudgy stomach. Nozomi is pretty okay with it, but she changes her tune when Karen and Rin point out that the problem is his diet and lack of exercise, not just getting chubby. Milk takes charge and puts him on a diet.

Over in Nightmare, Kawarino offhandedly mentions that Gamao was useless, which disturbs Bunbee because he didn’t realize his last employee had been so carelessly killed. Hadenya tells him to get over it and then sets out.

Coco’s diet is going well, except for all the times he tries to sneak into the kitchen in the middle of the night to grab some cream puffs, or sneak some into his lunchbox. He gets outright depressed when he can’t eat some, so the girls conspire with Milk to make him a special meal. It goes about as well as the last time they tried to cook together. One night, Coco sneaks out of his room to the kitchen for some cream puffs, and instead finds the best gag in the episode: the fridge is completely empty except for an exercise wheel.

I just imagine Nuts going through the effort to empty the fridge and store all the food somewhere else, all so he could put this wheel in there when Coco inevitably tried to sneak a bite. So yes, Nuts shows up and says getting exercise is important as well as he demonstrates the use of the wheel. A+ television here.

Another day, Coco is out walking and smells the all-too familiar scent of choux creme. He finds a food truck selling them, and the sweet lady who runs it (who is definitely not Hadenya) offers him free samples!

He almost takes it, but he thinks about the girls, Milk, and even Nuts all working hard to help him eat more healthily, and refuses. Hadenya wolfs down the plate and then turns the food truck into a Kowaina, and throws Coco into the cabin, high enough where he’d hurt himself if he jumped. The girls catch wind of this and show up to fight. They feel their hands are tied because they don’t want to hurt Coco, and Hadenya says she’ll give him back if they give her the Dream Collet. She further taunts them by saying Coco ate cream puffs. However, what is supposed to be a damning claim gets brushed aside because aside from not being true, the girls know Coco has a stronger will than that, and he wouldn’t break his vow like that. Dream persuades Coco to jump so that she can catch him, and then they safely take out the Kowaina.

Back at Natts House, the girls surprise Coco with the fruits of their labor: special vegetarian cream puffs! Coco can see the burns and cuts on their bodies as a sign of how hard they worked so he tries one, and it’s delicious! But then Milk steps in to say he shouldn’t have any more or he’ll relapse on his diet, and tries to eat the rest. Karen points out that Milk has been eating an awful lot lately, and has gotten rather chubby herself. Everyone agrees Milk should get some exercise as well, and the last scene of the episode would be great for the “Inhuman Anime Girl Sounds” Twitter, as Milk lets out a cry.

The Analysis

If you’re not aware, Japan is a very skinny culture, with an obesity rate of about 4% (compare to the US’s 40+%), and in 2008 the federal government enacted the Metabo Law which set a universal maximum acceptable waist measurement for men and women ages 40 to 75, with financial penalties for local governments and companies that had large levels of noncompliance. I couldn’t find a whole lot of information on stigma against overweight people in daily life, but in general the only socially acceptable fat people are sumo wrestlers. All of that is to say that, while they do mostly treat Coco’s weight as the butt of the joke, there is some progressive thinking going on as well, in that their concern is less purely that he’s getting fat as much as it is the fact that he’s not eating a balanced diet. It’s an important distinction to make, and the driving force of the rest of the episode is getting him to eat healthy, not JUST losing weight. It’s not a bad premise but I don’t think they make the most of the idea, the episode is largely comprised of gags about Coco trying to sneak a bite and being told “no”.

Most notably, Nozomi doesn’t seem very bothered by Coco’s weight gain. She takes it in stride, saying a little fat isn’t so bad. It’s only when they mention his unhealthy diet that she says “oh no that’s not okay” and that’s a pretty good way to take it. After all, if he’s chubby, there’s more of him to love, but if he’s not healthy, then he may die an early death. Perspective.

Now, it seems like they writers are trying to drawing a comparison between Coco and Hadenya with her remarks about eating everything, as if eating makes you a bad person, or being fat is evil, but...... it just doesn’t really make a whole lot of sense. She’s evil because she takes enjoyment in the suffering of others, Gamao was evil because he didn’t care about the feelings of others and just wanted personal gain, neither of them were evil because of their eating habits. It’s a weird thing to throw in there and it doesn’t tell us anything more about Hadenya except that she’s impulsive, so...... it falls flat. Honestly the most interesting thing she did this episode was try to poison Coco..... at least I think that’s what the goal was? She ate them herself when he refused so maybe they were fine but then what was her goal? just to say “Haha you cheated on your diet and now the Precure won’t be friends with you, and they’ll hand over the Dream Collet”? That doesn’t make ANY sense, even if she planned to trap Coco in the Kowaina. And for that matter how did she even know he was on a diet? I would have assumed she was just tempting him because his love of choux creme is well-known, but when she’s taunting the cures she specifically lies and says he cheated on his diet, so...... it’s just weird. Come to think of it, poisoning him before they got the Dream Collet isn’t the smartest thing either, so it was just a bad plan all around. I applaud the plan if only for how extra she got with it, Hadenya isn’t typically one for disguises.

The highlight of this episode is easily the cooking segment. I would call that the saving grace, even. The comedy is so on point, I want to watch an entire series of these girls’ hijinks in the kitchen. The last time we got this was in episode 15, when they all cook for Nozomi’s ill mother, and well..... some of them have not learned. Karen still screws up portion sizes, Urara’s just kinda clumsy, and Komachi still wants to add youkan to porridge, although this actually works out. But anyway, the comic timing of their kitchen antics is absolutely perfect and I love how they play off of each other, with Rin and now Milk being the lone voices of reason. This is what Kirakira could have been (we’ll talk about that eventually). The payoff to it all is really good, too, the vegetarian choux cremes they make look delicious and if you check the gallery I included their detailed directions for making them. No portion sizes but it’s an idea to try out. Tag me if you do!

And lastly some bookkeeping:

The “dokkoisho” that Coco and later Milk utter when they fall is an old colloquial term, basically like “heave ho”. In general it implies putting strength towards something, and in this case suggests that they’re struggling to push themselves up because they’re heavy. From what I can tell, it originates with Hokkaido fishing villages and was popularized in their sea shanties.

The kowaina’s voice is higher pitched than normal, and I’m not sure why. It seems to be the same actress as usual.

The shot of Milk with the sign is very exploitable and my friend @precurehoroscopes has made a version you can play with:

Next time, man this series is full of ideas that would get explored fully in later shows isn’t it? Milk is rewriting the story of Cinderella with the girls as the characters and it’s..... a trip. Look forward to it!

Pink Precure Catchphrase Count: 2 kettei!

#Precure #Pretty Cure #Yes! Precure 5 #YPC537 #PCD185

12 notes · View notes

redfoxwritesstuff · 5 years ago

Text

Kit went to Betrayal

And first off, let me say Thank You. To every single one of you who reached out, shared my desperate pleas for assistance, contributed to the funds or cheered me on. I legit couldn’t have done this without every single one of you. And you all have made this a truly one of a kind birthday. Thank you to @nuggsmum, @winterisakiller, @nonsensicalobsessions, @alexakeyloveloki, @theluckykittencalvin just to name a few. Seriously, thank you everyone!

Below the cut is more birthday ramblings from the Atlanta GA airport since my 3 hour layover just turned into a 4.5 hour layover. But I found food and power so all is good.

There was some sadness- I didn’t spend it with my daughter this year or my husband. But I did get to spend it with the awesome @winterisakiller, talking shop and clutching coffee. I got to meet the ever lovely @nonsensicalobsessions and tease her in person with all that she doesn’t know about Winter’s upcoming Glass Slipper series and about Dust. The look on her face when I forgot that *everyone* dies in the beginning of Dust and so I offered as a hint for the ending- “Someone dies” was truly priceless. I *though* I was giving a hint but yeah- yeah, you’re right- that’s not news.

First off. I flew into Newark, NJ because like- it’s SO MUCH CHEAPER to fly into that airport and hotels are cheaper. It was a redeye flight and I only slept a few hours. Oh- and I hadn’t eaten since 10am that day. Great planning, right? I planned everything. What I didn’t count on was a 3 hour paralysis leaving the airport thanks to Anxiety. Fuck you, anxiety and fuck you NJTransit.

After 3 hours I finally found a customer assistance phone number to figure out how many ‘zones’ to buy bus fare for. In the 3 hours I DID manage to find the bus stop, find what route I needed and even download the app! But the zones? HA! Fuck YOU NJTransit. Your FAQ and bus info sheets should REALLY not assume people know what the fuck a “zone is”

So! I get on the bus- 3 hours and one egg roll later. Google maps in hand (I’ve sold my soul and data to goggle, now PLEASE don’t get me lost). I watch and there are something like 30!! STOPS!! Before mine? The fuck?!

So my stop comes up and I press the stop request button. And nothing happens. Bye stop, it was nice seeing you. 3 stops later I find a part of the strip that works and my 7 minute walk to the hotel became a 14 minute walk.

And the 14 minute walk became a 20 minute walk because even with google maps *this bitch* got lost. Fuck you google, I trusted you.

I check in and it’s cold in the room. but the heater says it’s 75 in there? Fuck whatever, I jacked that shit up to 90 and stood there. Kit’s from Alaska. Kit still gets bitchy when cold and it was something like 33f out. At least I had my arctic coat from AK. But this bitch didn’t have a hat or gloves.

Anyway, I thaw and look around the room. Overall, can’t complain. It was dated as fuck, the tile was old, cracked and poorly laid and the floor was so uneven that it was a tripping hazard. I can say that because... I tripped. Oh- and it had a like 1980′s porno jetted tub in it. No joke. It was shaped like a heart.

I loved that tub. I wrote in that tub. I watched Endgame (again) in that tub.

So! I walked to McDonald’s, getting lost once on the way and basically go back to the hotel to become a boiled potato in the jetted tub. It was red, I didn’t have to worry about my hair staining it.

Morning comes and my 6am alarm comes... and goes. Oops. Slept through hotel breakfast and woke up at 9. I proceeded to spend all morning agonizing over the NJTransit system and ZONES (seriously- fuck zones) and eventually after soothing my vanity and getting dolled up, made my way to the bus stop.

I’ll have you know, I did NOT get lost.

$7 in bus fare later and I was on a bus to NYC. For like 3 minutes. Because the driver hit something (someone?) and we all had to get off. And so I stood with the people who looked like they knew what the fuck was going on. Do I get on another bus? Do they send another bus? Do I have to pay again? FUCK IF I KNEW. And poor winter is getting like, live updates of this. Because if I get killed in NJ I wanted someone to know, I guess? lol ANYWAY! The driver yells at the dude, The dude yells at the driver. She yells more. He leaves. She tells us to get back on the bus. And so we did. That was a thing.

Speaking of- why is everyone always honking? And I’ve never been almost hit by so many cars? And everyone acts like the cross walks, street lights and walk signs are all optional? And EVERYONE is honking?! And when they are not honking, they are yelling. Why y’all so angry?

Biiiig city is big. Want to watch Kit shut down fast? Pretty much anyone walking by the port authority bus terminal at like 1pm got to see Kit walk out the doors, look around and find the closest wall to fight panic off at. Because IT’S BIG. AND TALL. AND PEOPLE ARE EVERYWHERE. I HAVE CROWD ANXIETY.

So I stood there. In the cold. For 15 minutes then said FUCK IT and pulled up Google map’s and to the theater I went. And I found it! Without getting lost. Next up was more McDonald's since I again hadn’t eaten in for fucking ever. Notice something I’m good at? It’s forgetting I’m not a plant and this have to actually eat. But at least in NYC no one is trying to hit me. I haven’t been in a walking city since Anchorage, AK and it was nice to have walkers rule the world.

Charged up my phone and went walking. Got coffee. Walked more. Met up with Winter. Got more coffee. Talked writing. Met up with Nonsensical. And into the theater we went at 6:30.

Remember how I said 2nd row? Yeah no, seats 1-100 on the seating map didn’t actually exist in reality. Front fucking row, center stage. At times, when men were sitting right in front of me, I had to remind myself what parts of them was socially acceptable to stare at.

The play was amazing. And powerful. And funny. And there really isn’t anything I can say that hasn’t been said before.

After the play, we chilled waiting for stage door for 90 minutes. Legit, chilled- it was cold and trying to rain and the three of us got separated. But I got a taste of the star life when I ran into @led-lite who recognized me from here! (Whaaat?!) Check out her art- it’s fucking amazing. And while they didn’t end up doing stage door, it was so cool to just hang out and chat for a good while. Thanks for being a part of my Birthday!

We went back to Winter’s hotel so I could charge my phone up and hang out for a bit. I finally got the pillow case she got for me in London! It’s so cute! It has foxes- I can’t WAIT to show some of my gaming buddies who will just GROAN because I don’t need more fox shit. But it’s going to live in the living room with all my other foxes. And Nonsensical gave me candy canes. She doesn’t know this but candy canes are one of my favorite candies!!

And back to the hotel I went. I didn’t get lost and was only mildly anxious finding my way back to the bus terminal and with the help of a lovely random local that pegged me as a visitor in record time (legit- I didn’t even have TIME to try and figure it out myself!), I figured out what gate my bus was going to load at. It oddly enough works much like airports! Only without the security. Who would have thought?

I didn’t miss my stop but the bus had standing room only. I think I pulled something in my leg because like, I was holding on for dear life as it whipped me around. Everyone else acted like it was normal though so I braved it and tried so very hard not to be thrown into another person. I didn’t miss my stop this time! And I didn’t get lost! Look at me, adjusting!

I passed the fuck out. So hard. I got up at 6, said fuck it, got up at 9 and packed and to the bus stop for the airport I went.

Look at me using local public transport like a boss. And at the airport I discovered that in NJ if you don’t eat before going to the airport and you’re not ready to drop $15-20 on food- they would like you to kindly fuck off and starve. At least once you’ve gone through security.

Annnnd now we’re here. And I’m in Atlanta. And my flight just got delayed. But at least fucking ATLANTA HAS FAST FOOD.

All in all, it’s been a amazing trip. I had a blast and I wish I Had more time. But it was perfect because I got a taste and someday, when I come back (because I totally want to come back) I’ll be much better prepared since it won’t all be new.

also. FUCK NJTRANSIT.

#seriously wtf #what are zones?#Kit in the wild

48 notes · View notes

vergeangst · 6 years ago

Text

Here’s a little something based off of this post by @coconut-cluster

Also, credit to @itsme98z for the idea of Emile being the teacher who helps Logan out with his situation.

Warnings: Mild self-hatred, comparing oneself to others, mild anxiety (mentions of fear for grades/being judged), Logan just practically drives himself to a walking being of exhaustion

Word count: 1,871

—————

Logan was one of those students who, to the outside eye, seemed to have his life together. He already had a plan for the future, already knew which college he’d go to and what he wanted to be when he grew up, despite only being a junior in high school. He got pretty good grades and seemed to dress to impress, wearing a tie and either a polo or button-up every day. Others in his classes seemed to look up to him in some ways. Logan, however, never saw himself in the way they did. He seemed to only see those above him.

Oh, how he wished he were them, the ones who graduated with a perfect GPA and got awarded as the valedictorian. Those who got all A’s all the time, who seemed to never have a problem with getting above a 90 on every test and quiz, no matter what class. Those who never knew what it felt like to fail so miserably at something such as grades. Logan tried so hard to be like them. He tried so hard to be perfect like them, though at this point it felt unattainable. He was in only 2 AP classes, as History and English weren’t particularly his best subjects. That alone proved to him that he wasn’t as good as a lot of other students. Even in his best class, Pre AP Calculus, he had a 91 as his grade for this 6 weeks.

His life was average at best. Sure, he had friends and a pretty good home life with a lovely pet and supportive parents, but he couldn’t bare to say anything about his disappointment in himself. He knew he wasn’t alone, but he sure felt like it. Logan knew that there were others, even some in his friend group, that got grades such as C’s and D’s regularly, so it seemed sort of selfish and mean to voice his concerns to them. And he just knew that if he told his parents all they’d do is try to reassure him that no, he was absolutely amazing and he had no reason to worry. But he knew that there would always be someone better than him. He knew he could never compare, no matter how much he tried.

These thoughts had been invading Logan’s mind more often this year now that college was just about a year and a half away. To make it worse, his AP Psychology teacher was leaving at the end of the week. Mrs. Kingswood had been Logan’s favorite teacher from the first day he’d entered her classroom. She had apparently been offered a new, higher-paying job in another part of the state. Logan saw the logic behind it, of course. She would’ve been a fool to turn down such a job, but that didn’t mean he’d miss her any less.

From what he’d heard, the person replacing her was a someone named Dr. Picani and he’d used to be a couples’ therapist, a fairly popular one at that. Logan didn’t have much time to think about him though, too worried about his US History, English, and Physics tests later this week.

—————

Logging into the home access center Monday morning, Logan sighed in relief. He’d made an A on both his English and History tests and a low B on his Physics test, which, with the square root curve, would end up as a low A, thank god. He walked into Psyche, a frown replacing the small smile on his face as he realized that the new teacher would be here today instead of Mrs. Kingswood.

The tardy bell rang just as he’d sat down in his seat, his eyes training on the stranger in the front of the classroom. He was wearing a white button-up with a brown sweater vest and a pink tie that matched perfectly with the shade of pink of his hair.

“Hello,” the man spoke enthusiastically, his bright smile immediately reminding Logan of his friend, Patton. “I am Dr. Emile Picani, but you can just call me Emile. Now, there was supposed to be a lesson today, but I figured that today could be a day for me to learn about all of you lovelies. Let’s start with the roll, now, shall we? Fiona..”

Logan sighed. While it seemed the new teacher was extremely nice, he also seemed to have the energy level of both Roman and Patton combined.

“..gan?.. Is Logan Foster here?”

“Oh, uh, here!” Logan spoke, raising his hand.

Emile smiled at him and Logan offered a small smile back before averting his gaze. He seemed nice enough, and he was respectful of his students’ preferred names and pronouns, from what he’d seen. Maybe this new teacher wouldn’t be so bad..

—————

Emile soon became Logan’s favorite teacher. He’d always leave little encouraging and helpful notes on Logan’s tests, which, to be honest, did help somewhat. Logan knew he wasn’t the only one to get the little comments though. He saw the writing in various colors of ink, pink, green, blue, or purple, scribbled at the top of every other student’s tests as well. That seemed to take away some of the meaning of it, except for when he used Logan’s name in them. Then, he knew the comment was for him and only him.

That was only a small booster for his confidence that lasted until he had to go to his next class, though, then he was filled with dread for the rest of the day. This feeling had become all too common these days. His grades began to slip, despite him doing practically everything he could to keep them up. He’d even taken to studying into the late hours of the night, trying to retain any information he could for upcoming quizzes and tests, going to tutorials for multiple classes a week, and asking his parents for help on his homework.

He still acted as if everything was fine though, because he was still better off than some others, right? So, what was the point in complaining about something if the person you’re complaining to is in a worse situation? That’s how Logan saw it, anyway.

Logan tried as hard as he could to do better, to at least just get back to where he used to be, but how could he do that when he could barely even stay awake during his classes? One day, Emile was passing the latest tests back, and Logan saw that he’d gotten a 75, the lowest grade that was still considered a C. He’d only sighed and looked at the note in the top right, this time written in purple. It read, ‘Logan, please visit my room after school.’ He’d frowned at that, but he assumed it was only a matter of time before one of his teachers questioned him about why he couldn’t seem to keep his grades up.

By the end of the day, all Logan wished to do was go home, curl up in bed, and hide from everyone and everything, but he still had to visit Emile. He plastered a small smile on his face as he walked into the room and toward the teacher, who was sitting at his desk, typing something into the computer.

“Um, h-hi..” Logan silently cursed the way his voice shook as Emile turned to look at him, smiling.

“Ah, Logan.”

“You, um, wanted to see me?”

“Ah, yes, of course. Please, have a seat.” He gestured to the desk nearest to him, which Logan made his way to, slipping off his backpack and sitting down. “Now, I wanted to ask, how much sleep have you been getting?”

That certainly wasn’t what Logan was expecting. “A few hours.. Maybe 2-4 a night.. Why?”

Emile pursed his lips for a moment. “You know how I write notes for each of my students?”

Logan nodded, the corner of his lips twitching up the slightest bit.

“I do that because I want them to know that I care about each and every one of them. I want them to see that they’ve done something that makes me proud, and that I’m here to help if they need it.”

Logan’s eyebrows drew together. Why was Emile telling him this? He knew that he cared for his students. He was one of the only teachers that actively sought out to help his students and acted as if they were actual human beings with different learning patterns. He used examples that students would understand and explained it to those who may not.

“I told you to come see me because I’m worried about you. I see that you’re trying very hard in my class, but you’re lack of sleep and possibly other factors are contributing to difficulties focusing.”

Logan looked down at the lines that squiggled across the wooden desk he sat at, biting his lip as he debated on telling Emile what had truly been troubling him.

“I-I guess my mental health has declined, as my grades have always been a cause of stress for me, but now th-they’re dropping and..” His eyes filled with tears as his voice shook again.

“And?” Emile rolled his chair to sit next to Logan’s desk, offering his hand for logan as a source of comfort.

Logan took the hand as tears began slipping from his eyes and rolling down his cheeks. “I’ve tried everything to bring them back up. Even before they started dropping I was trying to bring them up and I feel like it’s impossible to ever even get back to where I was..”

“Oh, Logan.. Here.” He retrieved a box of tissues, from where, Logan had no idea, and set them on the desk. “Have you ever talked to someone about this?” At Logan’s shake of his head, Emile nodded. “I encourage you to try to talk to someone whenever you feel like you need to. It could be a friend or a parent, or it could even be me if you’d like. No matter who it is, I want you to feel safe and less stressed. It seems that you’ve kept your worries to yourself for so long that they’ve manifested into this fear of failing, while also exhausting you to the point where you’ve accepted it, is that right?”

Logan nodded, a metaphorical weight lifting from his chest at someone finally understanding how he felt after so long of keeping it all to himself for fear of being judged. “Yes. Yes that’s..thank you, so-so much.”

“Any time, Logan. And hey, try to get a little bit more sleep tonight, alright?”

Logan smiled, nodding as he stood from the desk. “Alright. I’ll try. Um, could I possibly get a hug?”

“Oh, of course!” Emile stood from his chair to wrap Logan in a warm hug, allowing Logan to pull away when he was ready. Once he did, Emile offered a warm smile and clapped him gently on the shoulder. “Go get ‘em tiger. You got this.”

“Thank you again.” Logan smiled, feeling happier now than he had in a while as he grabbed his backpack and left Emile’s classroom.

This new teacher had really grown on him, hadn’t he?

—————

Alrighty, I hope y'all liked it! I’m currently working on a pretty hefty angst fic involving Virgil and the snake man (not saying his name or speaking of anything that happens for those that could possibly have a trigger linked to the character), so be looking forward to that in the future!

#tw self loathing #tw mental health #my writing #logan sanders #logic sanders #emile picani #lyss writes

190 notes · View notes

david-lynch-ate-my-son · 7 years ago

Text

Kastle College Professors AU Part 4

(A/N: So I lied earlier. One more part after this. Sorry if you’re not a fan of the slow burn, but whatcha gonna do? I’m only, like...75% happy with this chapter? So let me know what you think!)

READ ON AO3 HERE

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue

Despite the fact that the university operated a dry campus, Frank always kept a bottle of scotch in the bottom right drawer of his desk. The good stuff—Lagavulin—and it was for special occasions only. He had purchased it 7 years ago—on his first day teaching at the university—and it had remained in his desk for years afterward, collecting dust. It turned out that Frank wasn’t all that great at celebrating. Didn’t often see many reasons he considered important enough to break out the good stuff. The day his first article had been published, he’d bought himself a Twix bar at lunch as a special treat; after his promotion to Associate Professor, he’d gone with David and Curtis for a pint and crawled into bed early; when he was awarded the Alfred P. Sloan Research Fellowship, he’d taken the kids to Coney Island and bought them so much junk food that Frankie Jr. threw up on the way home.

But never once did he break out the scotch. Not that those weren’t momentous life occasions for Frank—they were. But he had never really been one for ostentatious celebration; never the guy to throw a party in his own honor. He was, he told himself, waiting for a moment truly worthy of ceremony for the Lagavulin.

Since meeting Karen, however, he’d broken out the bottle on three separate occasions. The first time had occurred about a month and a half into their working relationship, when Karen realized, mid-rant about her latest run-in with Danny Rand, that it was her three year anniversary of earning her PhD. She’d jumped up from her desk so suddenly, stopping mid-sentence, that she nearly gave Frank a heart attack. He’d watched, half-confused and half-charmed, as she’d run out to the coffee shop to buy herself a cupcake. (She was, and always would be, a firm believer in celebrating the little things). She had looked so excited, rummaging around in her desk drawer, searching for a candle to blow out, that Frank had figured “why the hell not,” and offered her a congratulatory drink.

The second time had followed about a month later, when mid-term student evaluations had come out. They’d both sat on the floor, getting slightly tipsy, and read theirs out loud to each other. Karen had laughed until she’d toppled over when one of Frank’s students wrote, “Dr. Castle is kind of like a sexy shark—like he looks really good, but I’m super scared of getting too close to him, because he might bite my head off.” For a solid week, every time Frank approached Karen’s desk, she’d hummed the Jaws theme song under her breath.

The third time had taken place only three days ago, when Frank finally removed the duct tape boundary from across the office. At some point in the nearly 4 months since Karen had moved in, the clearly-delineated separation between “his” side of the office and “her” side of the office had completely broken down. Karen’s little potted succulents—which needed direct sunlight—had ended up on the windowsill behind Frank’s desk (she assured him that they didn’t need to be watered every day, but he kept an eye on them just in case). When one of Frank’s bookshelves collapsed, he’d moved a great deal of his heavy, forbidding Physics books to Karen’s side (her Maggie Nelsons and Searles were beginning to look quite cozy pressed up against his Capassos and Sobels). And the former no-man’s-land between their desks had become what Karen affectionately called “the family room,” which she had filled with floor cushions “thrifted” from Foggy’s apartment, all carefully placed around a low coffee table. It was where they sat to eat their take-out dinners, and where Karen did her grading when her desk became too restricting. After much prodding from Karen, Frank had finally admitted the duct tape line was a farce, and pulled it up with great ceremony. She had clapped, he had bowed, and they’d toasted with a glass of Scotch.

It turned out that Frank found a lot more worth celebrating with Karen around.

So when David Leiberman knocked on Frank’s office door at 7PM on Friday evening, he figured it was cause enough to break out the good stuff one more time. After the obligatory hugs, and the thinly-veiled references to how much they’d missed each other, Frank set about pouring a generous glass for his friend.

“So how long you in town for?” Frank asked over his shoulder to David, who was somewhere behind Karen’s desk, probably snooping. He looked down at the glass in his hand, then tipped in just a little more of the amber liquor. It was a Friday after all—no work in the morning.

“Just until Sunday night. I’m speaking at a conference at the Kimpton,” David looked up from his current task of closely examining every inch of Karen’s bookshelf. He ran a finger along her collection of titles, smiling when he noticed a copy of The Fundamentals of Photonics wedged between Witness and Memory: The Discourse of Trauma and Speech Acts.

“You should have called ahead—I would have planned something. Maria has the kids this weekend,” Frank walked over to David, who had pulled out one of Karen’s books and was thumbing through it. (It was, he noted with interest, filled with the most bizarre and incomprehensible shorthand he’d ever seen). He put it back in its place and accepted the glass from Frank.

“Well, you know,” David shrugged, taking a sip and humming in approval. “I wanted to surprise you. See the look on your face and all that.”

“Didn’t take you as the kind of guy who went in for dramatics,” Frank leaned back against Karen’s desk, observing his friend with a keen eye.

David dragged a hand through unruly curls, looking sheepish.

“Also I just kind of forgot.”

“Ah, there it is,” Frank lifted his glass in a mock-toast. “That sounds more like you.”

“Wouldn’t have made much of a difference at any rate, I’m afraid,” David continued his perusal of Karen’s little library. “They’ve got me booked at the conference all weekend. Wouldn’t have a spare minute anyway.”

“I could’ve at least planned for you to see the kids. Frankie Jr’s starting to talk about building his own computer. I figured that was a conversation for Uncle David,” Frank ran a knuckle against the polished wood of Karen’s desk, wondering idly if she was planning on returning to the office sometime soon.

“Ah, well that just gives me an excuse to come back again,” David gave one last, lingering look at the bookshelf before turning to inspect the rest of the office. “Maybe bring the kids with me next time. Make a trip out of it.”

Frank watched David wander about the space, and noticed the way his eyes caught on all of Karen’s little touches—the lingering imprints of her scattered about. Her succulents on the window sill, her pink Himalayan salt lamp, the gauzy blue curtains she’d hung in the window (she liked to close them in the afternoon to watch the way they played peek-a-boo with the sunlight). He paused to inspect the sticky-notes Karen had stuck to the wall by the door—little memos she left for herself about errands to run or sources to look up. (The one that read, “Yell at Frank about leaving the window open overnight!” in large, bold letters had him biting the inside of his cheek to keep an amused chuckle down).

“The, uh—the place looks different, Frankie,” David tried for casual as he turned to Frank, hands in his pockets. Tried to look as though he hadn’t been impatiently biding his time until he could loop the topic of conversation around to Karen. “More…lively,” he rocked back and forth on his heels slightly, grinning.

During the far-too-infrequent Skype conversations they had managed to catch over the past few months, David had begun to notice an increase in the amount of times Frank made mention of his office mate. It had started off-handedly, with Frank dropping in a small detail about her every once in a while—“and then Karen walked in and almost spilled her coffee all over my radiometer, so I had to deal with that shit.” Just carelessly bringing her up in passing, almost like an afterthought. Then, after a while, it became Frank relaying long, complicated stories about his latest adventure involving Karen—“so she fuckin’ signed me up for this interview with a freshman, David. I was ready to strangle her.”

More and more, Karen began to leak into every conversation David and Frank had. It was a progression so natural that it took David a month or so to catch on.

Until finally, he noticed Frank using that oh-so-special word when talking about Karen: we.

“So we decided to order take-out and do some grading”, or “we were tired of the radiator always going on the fritz, so we brought in a mini-heater”, or “we left the window open the other day and a pigeon fuckin’ flew into the office and shit on my desk overnight.” Frank didn’t even have to mention Karen by name—every time he said “we,” David could safely assume he was including Karen. He didn’t think Frank realized he was doing it—but at some point, every story he told was about Dr. Karen Page. Him and Karen. Karen and him. Always together. And David was incredibly eager to figure out what that was all about.

“Now it actually looks like a human spends time in this room, instead of a robot,” David ran a finger across one of Karen’s sticky notes for emphasis.

“Yeah. That’s all Karen,” Frank swirled the Scotch in his glass, grinning to himself. David doubted Frank knew how dopey that grin looked, or he would have worked harder to cover it up.

“Hmm,” David continued his leisurely walk about the office. “Lots of very un-Frank things going on here,” David gestured vaguely to the floor cushions. “Can’t really imaging you sitting on one of those.”

“Eh,” Frank shrugged, “it’s not so bad. More comfortable than my desk chair. And Karen likes ‘em.”

“Seems like Karen’s changed a lot around here, huh?” David wandered over to the loveseat that had been wedged between the two desks. As he sat, he noticed the soft-looking throw draped over the arm—Karen again. “I would have thought you’d have a harder time with someone coming in and invading your space. But it seems like you’ve handled it quite well.”

“Yeah, well. Turns out I don’t mind it so much.”

“If it’s the right person, huh?” David said with a knowing little smile.

And it was that smile that had Frank instantly suspicious of where David was leading their seemingly-innocuous little chat. His friend had a habit of talking in circles, leading you around and around the topic of conversation he really wanted to discuss, until it drove you crazy. Frank hated it—had no patience for the whole thing. He stared at David with narrowed eyes, fingers tapping against Karen’s desk as he took a sip from his drink.

“I mean,” David continued, nonchalantly, “it just seems like anyone else, and you’d be dying to get rid of them. Get your space back. But with Karen, you don’t mind one bit. Just interesting.”

“Interesting, huh?” Frank spoke slowly.

“Yep,” David took a sip of his scotch. “Just interesting.”

There was a beat of silence, during which David sat coolly under Frank’s assessing gaze.

“If you want to say something, just say something, man,” Frank sounded slightly annoyed. “Hate it when you beat around the bush.”

“Not saying anything, Frankie,” David held his hands up defensively, but the quirk of his lips gave him away. “Just making some casual observations.”

“Yeah, I know you too well to believe that any observation you make is casual,” Frank set his glass on the desk and crossed his arms. David had to stop himself from laughing at how stereotypically-Frank the move was. “So why don’t you try that one again, buddy.”

“Well, I guess I’m just wondering,” David paused, crossing one leg over the other and throwing his arm over the back of the loveseat, “you know, very casually,” he emphasized the word with a raised eyebrow, “when you’re going to get around to admitting that you’re in love with Karen Page.”

David had never seen Frank go so still before. It was a little alarming, watching his muscles freeze up rigidly, his eyes unblinking, mouth pressed in a hard line—David was half worried that he wasn’t even breathing. For a full fifteen seconds, Frank stood there, unnaturally still, while David sat patiently, waiting for an answer.

It was the loud sip David took from his glass that seemed to shake Frank out of it.

“I—” Frank coughed, clearing his throat, then tried again. “No idea what you’re talking about.” But his voice lacked certainty—sounded a little edgy.

“Yeah,” David nodded, as though Frank’s response were exactly what he expected, “see, your words say ‘no idea what you’re talking about,’ but that incredibly strained pause you just took, plus,” he gestured to Frank’s face, “that terrified look you’re wearing say otherwise.”

Frank felt that familiar little throbbing begin between his eyebrows—the one that only David seemed able to incite. Suddenly, he forgot why he was so happy to see his friend only moments earlier.

“I’m not in love with Karen,” Frank tried to summon up a little conviction, but missed the mark by miles. Instead, he sounded like a petulant child who refused to admit he’d taken the last cookie while his hand was still in the jar. “We’re just friends.” The words felt wrong in his mouth, heavy and unwieldy. Tasted like vinegar on his tongue—the way lies always do when you’re body decides to reject them.

“Hmm,” David hummed a little disbelieving sound, and brought a hand up to his chin in a thoughtful gesture. “Now normally I would take you at your word, you being my closest friend and all, but I’m afraid you have a particularly bad case of chronic emotional constipation, Frank. It’s just one of your many quirks.” He shook his head sadly.

Frank sputtered indignantly, before remembering that arguing with David was pointless. Always had been—the man was like a dog with a bone when he was trying to press his point. And suddenly, Frank didn’t have the energy to fight it.

“You’re a smart guy, don’t get me wrong,” David waved a hand in the general direction of Frank’s many framed degrees. “But you’re unbelievably shit at understanding your own emotions.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’re here to enlighten me?” Frank’s voice had a sardonic edge. He moved from Karen’s desk, grabbing her swivel chair to drag it in front of David. He sat down with a heavy thud.

“Only if you’ll allow me,” David sounded way too amused—too pleased with himself. The throbbing in Frank’s forehead ticked up. “I only enlighten the willing.”

Frank leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs, eyes narrowed and searching David’s face. The other man, for his part, tried to maintain a look of blasé innocence.

“Talk,” was all that Frank said. He hated to admit it, but he was actually curious as to what David had to say. Because, as painful as it was, David did have a point, and Frank knew it—he had never been the best at sorting through his own confused jumble of emotions. And—yeah—he’d been having some complicated feelings about Karen for a while. Some complicated, white-knuckled feelings that sometimes left him a little breathless and gutted when he looked at her. So as much as it hurt him to admit, he’d take David’s insight if he was offering it.

“Well,” David made a big show of stroking his hand across his jaw thoughtfully, “you’re a hard guy to read, I’ll give you that. But over the years I’d like to think I’ve become well-versed at recognizing the various mating rituals of the elusive Frank Castle. I’d say I’m somewhat of an expert. Maybe the only one in the world.” David was clearly enjoying himself, if the shit-eating grin on his face was anything to go by. It wasn’t often that Frank let the conversation veer into emotional territory, and David planned to savor the moment. Frank, for his part, was not amused.

“If you’re gonna be a little shit about it—,” he made as though to get up from his chair, and David lurched forward to stay him with a hand on his arm.

“Now, now, Frank,” David shook his head. “Don’t be so hasty.” Frank’s jaw ticked in that dangerous way—the way that said he was running out of patience. But David noticed, with some measure of satisfaction, that in spite of his annoyance, Frank settled back into his seat with little resistance. “I’m just having some fun.”

“I’d appreciate it if your fun wasn’t at my expense,” Frank grunted. Having to turn to David for guidance was painful enough—but adding unnecessary teasing on top of it was a bridge too far.

“Well, one of us should be having fun. From the look on your face, you’d think you were having a fucking root canal, instead of a conversation with a dear and valued friend,” David tried not to sound bitter about it. He did not succeed.

“Yeah, sometimes talking to you feels like a fuckin’ root canal, buddy.”

“Do you want my help or not?” David held his hands out in a take-it-or-leave-it gesture.

“No,” Frank managed to speak through painfully-gritted teeth.

“But you need it.” It wasn’t a question—it was a statement.

A beat of silence, then:

“Yes.”

David had never heard the word so grudgingly muttered. He let the quiet stretch out between them, as though checking to see that Frank was truly done with his complaining. When he was satisfied, David continued.

“So let’s look at this from my perspective, huh?” He leaned back on the loveseat once more, looking vaguely philosophical. “I’ve known you for a long time, Frank. A long time,” he repeated for emphasis. “And you’re not exactly an easy guy to get along with. I mean, let’s be brutally honest: you’re a bit of a misanthrope. You’re inflexible, you’re unapproachable—you’re stubborn as hell. You can’t handle criticism. It’s practically impossible to pull any sort of real, meaningful, emotional conversation out of you. I mean, you’ve got your walls built up a thousand feet high. And I’m saying this as someone who loves you, man.”

Frank would have been offended, but he was far too self-aware to even pretend David’s assessment was inaccurate. Insulting, sure, but not inaccurate. Instead, he settled for grumbling in acknowledgement.

“I mean, it took you years to even learn how to tolerate me,” David pressed a hand to his chest. “Some days I’m still not sure you really do.”

Frank snorted, which David took as confirmation.

“So what am I supposed to think when this Karen comes into your life, and all of the sudden…you’re none of those things? Not with her.” David leaned forward to make sure he had Frank’s attention. His voice, suddenly, sounded much more serious. Almost pleading. “I mean, come on, man. Look around you.” David gestured to the office, which was filled with little pieces of Karen everywhere he turned. “You’ve allowed this woman to come into your life and just—just turn it into something else. And not in a bad way,” David quickly amended, holding up a hand when he saw Frank frown. “Actually, in a really great way. I mean, this room feels like it’s alive, man. Like it’s a home. It’s a fucking office in a university building; that’s as impersonal as it gets. But it feels like a home. Do you get how crazy that is? How weird it is for me to see all this, and know that you had a part in creating it?”

Frank wasn’t looking at David. He was focused instead on that throw blanket of Karen’s just over the other man’s shoulder. It was soft and plush—with a pattern of roses stitched around the edges. It was so not Frank. But dammit if he didn’t love that fucking throw blanket. Because it was Karen’s throw blanket. Because she’d bought it the day after she’d walked in on Frank taking a nap on the couch, and thought “I bet he’d sleep better with something warm.” Because it was more than just a blanket.

“And it’s not just the office, Frank. It’s you.” David swept his hand up and down in Frank’s direction. “You’re different, man. You talk about Karen all the fucking time. I mean, all the time. I wish you could hear yourself. You’re voice gets all…all tender and shit. It weirded me out at first, gotta be honest.”

Frank scoffed.

“It’s true,” David shook his head. “You talk about her like she’s some kind of magical being that you can’t believe wandered into your life. With, like, this reverence I can’t wrap my mind around. It’s like you’re thinking about her all the time or something.”

And Frank jerked back at that. Because David had hit it right on the mark.

It was true. He thought about Karen constantly—what she was doing, who she was with, if she was having a five-cups-of-coffee kind of day or a just-tea-for-me kind of day. Sometimes, when he was alone, he stopped and thought about the fact that Karen was out there, wherever—talking to other people, making them laugh, telling them crazy stories, caring for them in that quiet, graceful way of hers—and he started to feel jealous. Jealous of the fact that she was somewhere else, saying beautiful things, having soft little moments, making weird little jokes, and he wasn’t there to see them.

Shit. Frank’s fingers started doing that fidgety thing they did when he got overwhelmed.

“I just—I don’t know, Frank,” David scratched the back of his neck. “I’ve gotta be honest with you, because from the outside, it looks like you’re head over fucking heels with this woman. I mean, there’s no other explanation.” David smiled, but this time it was sincere—no trace of mocking or mischief. “All I can say is that the Frank I knew about four months ago isn’t the Frank I know now. You just—you seem happy. You seem content. Like you’re, I don’t know, the sunshiney version of yourself. The version of yourself that doesn’t kind of also hate yourself.”

Fuck.

David was right. David was so, scarily right. Karen made him feel like he wasn’t so much of an asshole. Made him feel like a functioning, living, breathing real boy. Frank knew he could be difficult. Gruff, unfriendly, demanding, exacting. But the moment he crossed that threshold and saw Karen at her desk, making faces as she read through her students’ essays, all of that just dissolved. He became someone who was gentle. Who could be content and unburdened and relaxed. Someone with hands made to hold.

“I mean, just answer me this, Frank,” David waited until he had Frank’s eyes on his own to speak, his voice solemn. “Does it ever scare you sometimes, what you’d be willing to do if she asked you?”

Frank’s answer was a strangled kind of noise—something a little animal. David, being particularly knowledgeable in the numerous nuances of Frank’s grunts, could tell that it was an affirmation.

“Good,” David nodded, running a hand through his messy hair. “Good.”

There was a pause, in which David could almost see Frank’s mind at work. The idiot, he thought, he really didn’t know he was in love.

The two men sat for a moment, silent. The office felt saturated in something strong—something that felt like inevitability.

After a minute, David spoke again.

“And, I mean…obviously you’re attracted to her.” Frank recognized the tone of David’s voice—it was the way he spoke when he was trying to lighten the mood after a serious conversation. “I mean,” he shifted in his seat, “I saw pictures of her online. Now, I’m a married man,” David pressed an adamant hand to his chest, “but come on.” He raised an impressed brow at Frank.

Frank chuckled, and the tension in the room broke.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t know how I get any work done.” Frank dragged a hand over his face. “Fuck.” The curse didn’t have any power behind it, only a kind of delighted, terrified resignation.

“Yep, buddy,” David leaned forward and patted Frank’s shoulder. “You’re in love. Scary, huh?”

Frank let out a huff, shaking his head. “You have no idea.”

“You know, I find it kind of weird that you needed me to explain that to you,” David picked up his scotch, which he’d abandoned on the arm of the loveseat sometime during the conversation. “I mean, you’ve been in love before. You were married, you moron.”

“Wasn’t the same,” Frank was staring at his hands—his fidgety, restless hands.

“What do you mean, it wasn’t the same?” David furrowed his brow. “Isn’t love just…love?” He wouldn’t know, he’d only been in love once. It had only ever been Sarah for him.

“No, it—it’s just different,” Frank couldn’t find the words to explain what he meant, and that was an uncomfortable sensation. “Just—just more, this time. More of everything.”

Falling in love with Maria had felt like jumping off of a cliff. It had happened so fast—too fast for Frank to even think. One moment he was just Frank, and then the next, he was in love, and married, and a father. Like he’d tipped over the edge, and fallen into this new life. And maybe that’s why their marriage hadn’t lasted—you can only free fall for so long before you hit the ground.

Falling love with Karen had felt like falling asleep in the bathtub—letting go one muscle at a time and sinking into something warm and safe. Like waking up slowly on a Saturday morning and knowing that nothing in the world could touch you so long as you stayed in bed. Like going home. And that, somehow, was just so much more. He had built something with Karen—he hadn’t just fallen into her—he’d created something with her.

That’s probably why he hadn’t recognized the feeling earlier; he’d never felt it before. Never felt it like this.

“Jesus Christ,” Frank muttered, “I need another fuckin’ drink.”

Karen Page, you are such a fucking coward. As Karen stepped into the cool night, leaving the warm, whiskey air of the bar behind, the thought entered her mind unbidden. A spineless coward.

Hitching her bag further up her shoulder and shoving her hands ruthlessly into her pockets, Karen shook her head at the thought, as though she could make it go away. She’d just spent the past two hours sitting at the bar with Trish, trying to go over some changes to the other woman’s dissertation proposal. Trying being the operative word. Because the entire time, all Trish wanted to talk about was why Karen hadn’t admitted her feelings to Frank yet. Every time Karen had asked a question about a source for the lit review, or about how the dissertation panel selection was coming along, Trish had countered with a question about Karen’s cowardly refusal to just make a confession already. An embarrassing amount of time had passed, uneventfully, since the afternoon of the pit bull video, and Karen was still carrying around her feelings for Frank like her own private burden.

Avoiding a puddle of what looked disturbingly like vomit, Karen continued her trek back to campus, and wondered (not for the first time), why she’d bothered to tell Trish about her situation. The woman was so nosy—as all natural-born reporters were. It was just that—god—it was so nice to have female friends to confide in, and Karen had never been any good at keeping her feelings bottled up inside. They always needed to find an outlet—and Trish had been Karen’s outlet. Karen’s nosey, over-involved outlet.

It’s not that she didn’t want to tell Frank about her feelings. She did—or at least she thought she did. Of course she had some apprehensions about the whole thing: What if he didn’t feel the same way about her? What if it made things awkward between them? What if their entire friendship fell apart because of it?

But she also had a lot of hope—hope that he would be understanding. Hope that he would maybe—just maybe—return her feelings. Hope that, even if he didn’t, their friendship would be strong enough to overcome the awkwardness that would inevitably ensue.

And Karen was brave, damnit. It was part of her identity—something she felt defined her. Unafraid of new experiences, unafraid of failure, unafraid of getting hurt. Which was why it was so annoying that she had such a mental block about telling Frank how she felt. But it just seemed so…so fucking important. Massive. Life-altering.

Karen smiled and waved at one of her students, who was frantically running to the bus stop, as she reached the outer edge of campus. She wondered if Frank would be in the office when she arrived—he didn’t have the kids this weekend, and he liked to use the Fridays they were with Maria to spend some guy-time with Curtis. If he was there, Karen resolved, tonight would be the night she would tell him. She was sure of it.

But then again, she’d made the same resolution a million times over the past few weeks. She was going to tell him over Chinese food last week, but had ended up distracted by his explanation of how quarks had been discovered. Then she had planned on telling him a few days later, as they sat in the car on the way to a party at Foggy’s (at which she had avoided Matt like the plague)…but she’d lost her nerve when Frank started singing along to Earth, Wind, and Fire’s “Shining Star” under his breath, and she’d fallen in love with him all over again. And, more recently, when Frank had come over to her house to watch the premier of that ridiculous fantasy show she liked to watch on HBO, but she’d decided she didn’t want to tell Frank she loved him with an incestuous sex scene playing in the background.

So maybe Karen wasn’t that great at keeping this particular resolution. She huffed out a sigh, watching her breath become mist in the chilly air, and tilted her head back to look up at the stars. She supposed, in the grand scheme of things, that this wasn’t so terrible a dilemma. She was lucky, she told herself, if the most pressing issue in her life was how to tell a man she loved him. What a beautiful problem to have. To be capable of love—to be filled with the stuff—to the point of overflowing. As she walked forward, breathing deeply of the winter-sweet air, Karen felt a brief and startling rush of euphoria—felt, for a mere moment, how unbelievably magnificent it was to be alive. To be breathing and heaving along; to be on the brink of something huge. And as quickly as the feeling had rushed upon her, it faded away, leaving Karen with a mystified feeling.

As she neared the Physics building, she looked up toward the window of the office. Noticing the light was still on, her breath caught in her throat. He was there—she would tell him tonight. Surrounded by the little home they’d made together, out of books and ungraded papers and takeout cartons, she would tell him that she loved him.

She paused a moment, to watch the play of shadows as they danced before the window. She saw what was clearly Frank’s shadow move across the back wall of the office—then her heart sank as she saw another shadow follow close behind.

Shit. Frank had company.

Karen scuffed the toe of her boot along the sidewalk, and contemplated turning around and just going home. She didn’t want to interrupt whatever he had going on—probably Curtis stopping by before they left for “boy’s night.” But then she remembered that she’d left her laptop on her desk, charging. And she couldn’t go the entire weekend without her laptop. With a sigh, because her big confession would have to wait, she made her way into the building.

“No, no, no, that’s not what happened.” David’s voice, he knew, was beginning to slide ever-closer into “drunk slurring” territory, but he wasn’t too bothered. That’s the thing about being tipsy—you’re never bothered by anything when you’re tipsy. “Listen, listen,” David reached out in an attempt to grab Frank by the shoulder, but leaned forward a little too far and almost slid right off of the floor cushion he was sitting on. Catching himself quickly, he continued adamantly. “You were the one who gave Lisa the baseball bat, Frank, not me. So technically it was your fault.”

“But you were the one that gave her the ball, David.” Frank, while beginning to show his own signs of inebriation (glassy, unfocused eyes; diminished coordination), was slightly less tipsy than David. He, at least, was able to maintain an upright position on top of his own floor cushion. “If I’m gonna take the blame for giving her the bat, then you gotta take the blame for the ball.”

“But—”

“Nuh uh,” Frank pointed sharply at David, cutting him off. His arm barely avoided knocking over the almost-empty bottle of scotch that sat between them on the coffee table. “You were also the one that bet her she couldn’t hit a ball over the roof. Like an idiot.”

“I—hey—,” David held his hands up defensively. “How was I supposed to know she’d actually try to do it? I’m not a—a—,” David searched for the right word; couldn’t find it. “A person who knows the future.” Close enough.

“You—but,” Frank sputtered, disbelieving. “Have you met my kid, Lieberman? How could you not know she’d try?”

“Yeah but, I mean, how was I supposed to know she’d break three windows?” David was grasping at straws. “I thought she’d, y’know, have better aim!”

“She was eight,” Frank exclaimed, exasperated.

“Yeah, but—I mean,” David made some vague gesture with his hands—Frank wasn’t sure what it was supposed to signify, “she was a very mature eight.”

“Sarah agreed with me that it was your fault,” Frank shook his head.

“Yeah, but Sarah—,” David stopped suddenly, his eyes unfocusing on Frank and refocusing on something else (with great effort). Frank watched, puzzled, as David’s facial expression changed almost instantly into something he could only describe as manic glee. “Well hello there!”

Frank turned around, following the direction of David’s gaze, and saw Karen standing in the doorway of the office, a dumbfounded look on her face. She looked like all of his fantasies come to life.

“Karen.”

David may have been slightly-sloshed, but even in his altered state, he noticed the way that Frank said her name—in that soft, thoughtful little way. Like even just speaking it out loud was a privilege he couldn’t believe he had. It was still a little disconcerting for David to hear.

“Well now I know how it feels to be the only one who wasn’t invited to the party,” Karen leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, and a smile fighting its way to her face.

“That was my entire life story in high school,” David muttered. Karen snorted, tilting her head in David’s direction with curiosity. Suddenly, he seemed to remember that it was generally considered polite to introduce yourself to people you hadn’t yet met. “Oh, I—,” he attempted to jump up from his cross-legged position on the cushion, but snagged his foot on the leg of the coffee table in the process, tumbling to the ground instead.

Karen jerked forward, arms out, as though in attempt to catch him. Frank, whose reactions were slowed by the scotch, reached out to help a solid three seconds too late, and let his arms drop limply to his sides.

“Well shit,” David didn’t even make an attempt to get up. He just laid on the floor, sprawled out, staring up at Karen. “I’m David. Sorry ‘bout that.”

“I, uh—I actually know who you are,” Karen managed to stifle her laughter long enough to approach David and offer him a hand. “I’ve seen your picture before. I’m Karen.”

David took her hand, and she leaned back, using her weight to hoist him into a sitting position. Instead of releasing her hand once he was upright, David shook it (with a little too much zeal).

“Back atcha, Karen,” David’s grin was downright ridiculous. “About seeing your picture, I mean.”

Frank, who had been watching the exchange with trepidation, decided to cut in. He wasn’t entirely sure David could be trusted to talk to Karen while drunk—the man had never been particularly fantastic about keeping secrets while sober, and he tended to get extra chatty when he was buzzed.

“Uh, sorry about taking over the office, Kare. We can be out of your hair if you need the space,” Frank watched Karen release David’s hand and turn toward him with a smile. For a moment, Frank felt his heart squeeze roughly in his chest at that look. He’d had a similar reaction to her smile before, but now he had a name for it. Now he knew why it hit him with such inescapable force.

“Don’t be ridiculous Frank,” Karen dismissed him with a wave of her hand, “I wouldn’t ruin your fun. Just came to grab my laptop.” She pointed over her shoulder to her desk.

“Oh, you should stay!” David clapped his hands together. “We were just reminiscing about the time Frank let his daughter hit a baseball through my front window!”

“That is not what happened,” Frank glared pointedly at David, “and I’m sure Karen has more important things to do.”

“Uh,” Karen looked back at her laptop, which was waiting for her with a half-finished syllabus, “I actually don’t really have anything else going on.”

“See!” David threw his hands up. “It’s cosmic, uh,” he cast about to find the right word, “It’s—kismet! The lady has no place to go on a Friday night, and we’re having a party. Meant to be.”

Frank gritted his teeth. If Karen stayed the evening, the chances of David saying something terrible and embarrassing shot way up. But he also didn’t like the idea of Karen going home alone to an empty apartment when she could be here, with him.

“You sure you don’t have something you need to do?” Frank looked at Karen, who was grinning at David, obviously entertained by his befuddled state. “You don’t have to humor us or anything.”

“Nope,” Karen shook her head, sending her curls flying back and forth. In his tipsy state, Frank thought they looked even more like spun gold than normal.

“Oh, ignore him,” David scoffed at Frank. “He’s just worried I’ll say something embarrassing to you. Like tell you about the time he gave blood without eating beforehand, and when I went to pick him up and take him to lunch, he passed out in the Chipotle.”

“Jesus Christ,” Frank put his head in his hands. He was going to regret this entire night, he could already tell.

David laughed, patting the floor cushion next to his own in an invitation for Karen to sit. She cast a quick glance in Frank’s direction, silently asking his permission—she really didn’t want to intrude on their time, as she knew that Frank didn’t get to see David all that often. When he shrugged resignedly, she took her seat next to David (who noticed, with utter delight, that Karen reached out to subtly squeeze Frank’s forearm in ‘hello’ as she sat).

“That story sounds amazing.” Karen unbuttoned her coat, tossing it in the general direction of the coat rack. “Do go on.”

“Actually, uh,” David looked confused for a moment. “I think that was the whole story.”

Karen almost choked on an unexpected laugh.

“But,” David was quick to add, “I have a lot more where that one came from.”

“Careful, buddy,” Frank raised a warning brow at his friend, “you’re not the only one with ammo here.”

“Yes, but all the stories you have about me are charming,” David planted an elbow on the coffee table and cupped his chin in his hand, grinning widely. “I’m a charming man.”

“Not nearly so much as you think you are,” Frank rolled his eyes with a smile.

Karen watched the interaction with great interest. It was so fascinating to see Frank converse with David—to see him so at ease with someone who wasn’t her. There was an affection behind Frank’s eyes that warmed Karen right down to her toes.

“Alright, alright,” David sighed, “I’ll only tell the stories that make you look good. Though I don’t have as many of those.”

Frank grabbed a pen from on top of the coffee table and flung it at David’s head. David’s reactions were too slow to be of much help, but luckily Frank’s aim was equally as impaired, so the pen missed by inches.

Karen shook her head, lips quirking. “I feel bad that I don’t have someone here threatening to tell all of my embarrassing stories.”

“Well, you’ll just have to tell them yourself,” David reached behind himself to find the discarded pen. He flung it back at Frank, who didn’t even attempt to dodge it, it was so off-course.

“I’m afraid Frank already knows most of my embarrassing stories,” Karen sent Frank a look that David could only call ‘lovesick.’ Jesus, these two, he thought with an internal sigh.

“Well I don’t,” David pinned Karen with an eager look. “And that hardly seems fair.”

And that was how Frank ended up sitting on the floor of the office listening to Karen recount the story about how she had been absent on the day they taught sex-ed in 6th grade, and had been so scared there’d be a quiz over it when she got back, that she locked herself in the hallway closet with the encyclopedia and read the entry on “sex.”

(Just as it had the first time, the story had him laughing and groaning in equal parts).

This had been followed up by an anecdote from David—about the time he’d tried to scare his kids on Halloween by turning the house into a haunted mansion while they were at school, only to succeed so tremendously that Zach literally shit his pants. That, somehow, turned into David talking about how much his kids loved their Uncle Frank. Frank had a sneaking suspicion that David had willfully steered the conversation in that direction in order to talk him up to Karen. Play wingman.

It worked, because as Karen sat there, engrossed in David’s story about the time Frank taught Leo to play “Smoke on the Water” on the guitar, she felt those soft parts of her heart devoted solely to Frank thump wildly.

Frank was content to watch his best friend and the woman he recently realized he was in love with bond. Occasionally, he did interject a correction when he felt that David was telling a story inaccurately (which was often, because David was prone to exaggeration). But for the most part, he sat and listened as Karen charmed the pants off of a slowly-sobering David (as he knew she would), while David did a little charming of his own. There was an entire stretch of conversation that left Frank baffled, as David and Karen realized they were both super fans of the Discworld series. This led to a long and winding conversation about how amazing Terry Pratchett was (Karen went off on her little rant, one Frank had heard many times before, about how Pratchett was the world’s most severely-underrated fantasy author). It was nice, seeing everything just click. Karen made sense here—with him. In his life.

It wasn’t until two in the morning that David finally decided to call it quits. Frank was surprised that his friend had lasted that long, as he wasn’t exactly a night owl these days.

“Alright kids,” David had managed to speak around a yawn, “I’d love to do the whole all-nighter thing with you, but I’m shit out of energy.” He stretched with his arms above his head, and his back made a rather disturbing popping noise. God, he was getting old.

“You need a ride to the hotel?” Frank began patting at his pockets, looking for his keys.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” David pulled out his phone. “Uber’s easier. I’m trying to get my 4.8 passenger rating up to a 5 anyway. Don’t know why the fuck I got docked .2 points.”

“I’m surprised your rating is that high, honestly,” Frank muttered, shaking his head.

“Hey—I’m a great passenger. Very polite. And extremely not-murdery. Which, y’know, is important.” David began gathering up his coat and his scarf, bundling up to protect against the chilly, early morning air.

Karen stood up to say her goodbyes.

“It was great meeting you, David,” her voice was muffled by the big bear hug he pulled her into, with her face smashed against his scratchy scarf.

“You have no idea how great it was,” David gave her a squeeze before releasing her. Frank shrugged when Karen shot him a quick, amused look.

“Am I gonna see you again before you leave?” Frank asked.

“Well Sarah wants me to stop by Maria’s on Sunday to pick up a casserole dish we left at her place forever ago. Apparently, it’s a very important casserole dish. So if you stop by, then yeah,” David was looking at his phone, so he didn’t see the way Frank froze up at the mention of Maria.

But Karen did. It was so strange—every time the conversation veered toward mention of his ex-wife, Frank got a little cagey. Like he wasn’t exactly comfortable talking about the other woman with Karen. And she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why; everything else seemed to be fair game with Frank, but only Maria was a topic non grata.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll definitely stop by,” Frank sounded a little guarded—a little uncomfortable. He grabbed his own coat from the rack. “Let me see you off man.”

Karen stayed behind in the office as Frank walked David to the curb to wait for his ride. She wanted to give them some alone time to say goodbye.

Whenever Frank left the office, he seemed to take a majority of the air with him. It felt colder when it was just Karen—lonely.

With a sigh, she sat on one of the floor cushions, then decided that she needed to lay down, grabbing another one to pad her head. Staring up at the ceiling, with its cracked crown molding, she thought about the Maria problem.

Not that Maria herself was a problem. Just that Frank’s unwillingness to even broach the subject of Maria felt a little…off. Usually, when a man didn’t want to talk about his ex, it was for one of two reasons: he was either still bitter about the break-up, or he was still in love. Karen knew that it wasn’t the former with Frank—there was no anger there, not toward his ex-wife. He never seemed tense or irritable after picking up his kids at her place, or spending the afternoon with her at Lisa’s baseball games.

But she also didn’t think it was the latter—or, at least, she hoped it wasn’t. As far as she could tell, Frank actually kind of liked Maria’s new boyfriend. She didn’t think a man still in love with his ex-wife would be so forgiving of a romantic rival.

Which left Karen confused. She couldn’t think of any other reason he would get so damn tense every time Maria was mentioned. (She, of course, did not even consider the most obvious reason of all—that Frank wasn’t sure how to bring up the woman he used to be in love with to the woman he was currently in love with).

After a few minutes, Karen began to drift off, her eyes growing heavy. She was awoken what felt like mere moments later by a gentle hand on her head. She cracked her eyes open to see Frank crouching over her, his thumb rubbing across her temple.

“Time to go home?” His voice was quiet, and he smelled like crisp, outside air. Karen breathed deep.

“No. Not tired,” Karen shook her head. She wanted to talk.

Frank raised a skeptical brow, but the adamant look on Karen’s face brokered no argument. She had that “we need to talk” look. With Karen, that look never terrified him the way it did when other people wore it. Karen’s “we need to talk” was always gentle. With a sigh, he tapped her head lightly. “Up.”

Karen lifted her head, and Frank took its place on the cushion.

They sat, facing each other, nothing between them, close enough that the toe of Karen’s right foot brushed Frank’s knee. The position should have felt strange; a little too intimate. But it didn’t. It felt natural. There was something about the atmosphere at that moment—the way a room always feels after it’s been cleared of good company—like the lingering effects of comradery still hang about. It felt like the kind of space where a man like Frank and a woman like Karen could rest against each other.

There was a moment of silence—relaxing, comfortable silence—then Karen spoke.

“You never talk about Maria.” It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. Said in that way Karen had when she was trying to set the topic of conversation; letting you know that this is what you were going to talk about, regardless of your feelings on the subject.

Frank made a kind of grunting noise. Karen, like David, knew him well enough to recognize it as a confirmation that he was listening.

“I just…” Karen trailed off a little bit, biting her lip. “I just think it’s strange, y’know? You talk about your kids all the time. About David. And even Curtis. But not Maria.”

“Does that bother you?” Frank began to absent-mindedly pick at a loose thread on the seam of his jeans.

“No,” Karen shook her head. “You don’t have to talk about things you don’t want to. That never bothers me. I was just curious.”

“Hmmm,” Frank made a considering noise. After a moment, he nodded to himself. “Do you—” he thought about how to phrase the question. “Are you curious about her?”

Karen brought her hand up, chewing the end of her thumbnail thoughtfully. “Yeah, I kind of am.”

“Why?” His voice was quiet—curious.

“I guess because,” Karen lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. “Because I feel like I know everything else about your life. Except for the parts that have to do with her.”

“Okay,” Frank nodded again, rolling his shoulders. “Okay. What do you want to know?”

“Anything.” Karen pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. She looked so small that way, Frank felt something delicate twinge in his chest.

“Uhm,” Frank scratched the back of his neck. “She lives in Westchester. She works in the HR department of a pharmaceutical company. She’s on the PTA, but she hates it. She plays tennis with her friends on the weekends. She has one brother, who—”

Karen interrupted him with a chuckle. “I feel like you’re giving me a fast facts sheet about her, Frank. I don’t need to know her social security number.”

“Well you’re the reporter, Page.” Frank cocked his head to the side and smirked. “Ask better questions.”

“Okay, uhm,” Karen scrunched her nose in thought. “How’d you meet?”

“I was getting my Master’s in Material’s Science at MIT. She was working in a little bakery across the street from the library. I had my eye on her for a while before I got up the nerve to ask her out. And the rest is history,” Frank shrugged.

“’The rest is history’?” Karen scoffed. “You can’t just end a story with ‘the rest is history.’ It’s bad storytelling.”

“Oh, well excuse me,” Frank grinned. “Didn’t know I was being graded on my handling of narrative, Dr. Page.”

“Sorry,” Karen didn’t look at all apologetic. “Continue.”

“Uh. We dated for three months before she got pregnant. Asked her to marry me the day she broke the news. We were together for five years.” Frank pinned Karen with a pointed look. “That better?”

“Not much, but it’s something. You are definitely not a natural-born storyteller,” Karen shook her head sadly.

“I’m a scientist, Kare. Not Dr. Seuss,” Frank nudged Karen with his foot.

“Thank God for that,” Karen frowned, “His books always creeped me out as a kid.”

Frank chuckled, shaking his head. Karen was always dropping strange little tidbits about her life into conversation, and then never explaining them. He supposed it was just part of her appeal—she was mystifying.

Karen played with the hem of her shirt as she thought.

“What’s she like? Y’know, as a person?”

Frank didn’t quite know how to answer that. Some days he thought he knew Maria like he knew himself, and other days she felt like a stranger. People were like that, he supposed—full of secrets and contradictions and private little corners. And maybe that was part of the problem with the two of them, he’d never learned how to uncover all the parts of Maria that she kept hidden away.

After a moment of thought, Frank spoke.

“She’s…a great mother. Just a natural at it—compassionate, understanding, but tough. Doesn’t let those kids get away with anything. If they turn out alright, it’ll be because of her,” Frank glanced up at the ceiling.

Karen poked his thigh in a “go on” kind of gesture. “Uh, she’s traditional, I guess. When we were married, she did the whole wife staying home with the kids thing. She grew up Catholic, so--y’know--very concerned with doing things the ‘right way.’ A lot of times we didn’t really agree what the ‘right way’ was. Or if it even existed.” Frank sighed. He looked down at Karen, whose eyes were somewhere far off. When she noticed his pause, she glanced at him.

“More,” she said quietly. “I like hearing you talk like this.”

“She’s—uh, a very passionate person. She loves really hard, and she hates maybe harder. Everything’s black and white to her—no shades of gray. Makes her hell to argue with. Just unable to compromise; unable to see anyone else’s side.”

Frank began to fidget a little bit, picking at a loose thread on the floor cushion. Karen watched the movements of his fingers.

“She’s stubborn as hell, too. Doesn’t know how to walk away from a fight. Doesn’t believe in it.” He paused. “But she’s loyal to a fault, and fearless. And generous—gives a lot of herself to other people.” Frank was a little bit surprised how effortlessly all of this was coming out. It might have been Karen—how easy it was to be honest when she was watching him with those understanding eyes—and it may have been the fact that he’d been holding all of this inside of him for far too long.

“She sounds like an amazing person,” Karen’s smile was far away, as she tried to hold an image of Maria in her mind. Tried to piece her together with Frank’s words.

“Yeah, she is. I think you two would get along.” Frank tapped a knuckled against Karen’s knee gently.

Karen thought for a moment, about how to best ask her next question.

“So why, uh—” Karen squirmed a little, nervously. “Why didn’t it work out with you two?”

Frank had been expecting it, so he wasn’t surprised. Of course she’d want to know about the break-up—wasn’t that always the most dramatic part? Frank might not have been a great storyteller, but people, he knew, liked endings. They liked to have a tidy little bow wrapped around their stories.

“Well,” Frank let out a puff of air, “we only dated for three months before we got married. You know, those three months are exciting; the honeymoon period,” Frank ran a hand over his jaw. “Lots to talk about—your past, your family, your future. It’s like, just getting to know someone else—it takes up all your time.” He dropped his hand to pick at the cushion again. “Then she was pregnant, and we were talking about the kid nonstop. Planning, panicking. And then the wedding—all the arrangements and preparations. Then we actually had the kid, and your life just becomes being a parent. Talking about school and sports and punishments and how to not fuck them up for life.”

Karen was captivated—she always was whenever Frank spoke like this, candidly. He didn’t often talk about himself for more than a moment at a time, but when he did, Karen was mesmerized.

“Being a parent—I mean, that shit consumes your life. You just forget how to be the person you were before. And you forget how to be a couple. Strong couples—they survive. Because they remember what it was like to just be the two of them, as a team,” Frank paused, staring off. “Maria and I…we weren’t together long enough to get to that place before being Mom and Dad. We skipped passed that whole stage.”

“So what happened? You just…woke up one day and realized you…” Karen trailed off, unsure, “you just weren’t in love anymore?”

“Actually, something like that,” Frank tilted his head in a half-nod. “We went out on a date this one night, and we made this rule, right? That we wouldn’t talk about the kids? Not even once—no kid talk. And it was…it was rough. We sat there, for two hours, with nothing to say to each other.”

Karen tried to imagine it—sitting across from Frank without anything to say. Tried to imagine feeling awkward or unsure around him. She found that she couldn’t.

“We just…I guess we didn’t really have anything in common, y’know? Didn’t remember how to talk to each other. We’d never learned.” Frank ran a hand across his jaw. “We’d gone from getting to know each other, to being married with kids so quickly. Never took the time to figure out if we worked together.”

“Hmmm.” Karen chewed her bottom lip, brow furrowed. She’d only been in love once before Frank, and it had ended badly. Like ‘I will call the cops if you show up at my apartment again’ badly. So she couldn’t imagine love ending any other way—ending peacefully, on its own time. “Do you still love her?”

Frank jerked back, surprised. He had not been expecting that question.

“I mean,” Karen was quick to clarify, “like, in the way that one human being loves another human being. Generally.”

“Generally?” Frank frowned, confused.

“You know, in a—” Karen gesticulated vaguely, searching for a way to explain herself. “In a kind of ‘you’re terrific at being a human and I’m glad you exist’ kind of way.”

“You’re asking me if I’m glad my ex-wife exists?” Frank chuckled.

“No—I mean, obviously you’re glad she exists, I mean—”

“I know what you meant,” Frank gave a lopsided grin. “Yeah. Think I always will love her. I’m just not in love with her.”

Karen knew as much, but it was still a relief to hear him say it.

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and Frank’s grin slid into something a little softer.

Suddenly, the air in the room seemed to grow thicker; become heavy with something that felt an awful lot like anticipation. Karen became newly aware of just how close she and Frank were sitting. She could even see the tiny laugh lines beginning to form at the outer corners of his eyes; could probably count his lashes if she tried.

She’d forgotten, over the years, that love could be such a physical sensation. That it was more than just the head and heart that got involved, but the body as well. That it could make your spine tingle so deliciously—that it could make your skin feel like it was buzzing. The pull deep in her gut ached pleasantly when she looked at Frank, and Karen smiled. It felt so good to be alive. It felt so good to want this strongly.

Frank noticed his heart begin to thud uncontrollably in his chest, as his eyes flitted over Karen’s face. She was just so fucking beautiful, staring at him like that. With those wide, gentle eyes, and that sleepy little smile. Looking at him like she had all the time in the world—like everything she had was there, in the room, between the two of them.

“I—” Frank spoke, and his voice came out husky. Karen’s fingers twitched with the sudden desire to reach out and drag down his throat, feel the vibrations of that deep, low voice pulse through them. She curled them into her palms instead.

He cleared his voice—tried again. “I learned a lot from Maria. About myself.”

“Oh yeah?” Karen’s voice was equally as wrecked—breathy.

“About what I want.” Frank’s eyes darted down to Karen’s lips, so quickly that she didn’t register the glance. “About what I need.”

“And what would that be?” Karen felt herself swaying slightly, almost imperceptibly, closer to Frank. He noticed, with singular interest, the way her bottom lip was glistening. Fuck.

He was going to do it. He was going to tell her.

He could taste the words on his tongue—sweet and right.

“Karen, I—”

The chorus of Styx’s “Mr. Roboto” cut through the thick undercurrent of breathless tension that permeated the room. Karen jerked back at the sound, startled.

“Motherfucker,” Frank muttered under his breath. David. He wouldn’t answer the phone for anyone else, but if David was calling, it was probably important. He jammed his hand into his back pocket—a little more violently than strictly necessary—and ripped out his phone.

“David?” The man’s name came out like a bad word. And, at that moment, it felt like a bad word

Karen watched while Frank listened to whatever David had to say, observing the play of emotions flit across his face, mostly exasperation and disbelief.

“Are you sure you don’t—.” A pause; a sigh. “Well, did you check—?” Another pause. A heavier sigh. Then resigned acceptance.

“Yeah. I’ll find it. Give me a minute and I’ll be there.” Frank hung up, his lips pressed in a tight line.

“Everything okay?” Karen’s voice vacillated somewhere between concerned and strained.

“David left his wallet here. It’s got his key card in it. And the concierge won’t give him the spare without his ID, which,” Frank groaned as he stood up, “is in his wallet.”

“Oh, well,” Karen bit her lip uncertainly. “I guess I should probably be getting home anyway. It’s late—uh, early.” She corrected, massaging the back of her neck. A small part of her was hoping that Frank would say something else—anything else—to address the moment from earlier. To at least recognize that something had been happening there.

Instead, he just looked at her over his shoulder as he rummaged around for David’s phone, something tight and pulsing in his eyes. Something she couldn’t even begin to name.

“Want me to drive you home?” He found the phone under the loveseat, sliding it into his pocket as he watched Karen shrug into her coat.

“No, that’s okay,” Karen smiled mildly. “I want to walk. The cold air will keep me awake.”

“Okay.” Frank stood a little awkwardly with his hands in his pockets.

“Okay.” Karen nodded to herself. She paused a moment, mulling something over in her head. Then she took three steps across the office toward Frank.

“Thank you,” she spoke quietly, leaning forward with her hand on his arm, brushing a kiss against his cheek. In a moment, all of Frank’s awareness centered in on the feeling of her lips against his skin.

“For what?” He barely breathed it out.

“For everything, Frank,” Karen shrugged lightly, releasing his arm. “For being exactly who you are, I guess.”

By the time Frank was able to respond, Karen had already waved goodbye and walked out the door. He waited until he heard the elevator ding open before letting out a long string of expletives.

He was going to kill David.

#kastle #kastle au #karen page #frank castle #the punisher

80 notes · View notes

prorevenge · 7 years ago

Text

Landlord is jealous of my income, raises my rent $500. I screw him years later for $20k.

All names have been changed. Long story:

In the late ‘90s wife and I were just married, just getting started, and we decided to DINK (“double income, no kids”) it for a few years to save up for a down payment on a house.

The dotcom bubble was still rising and I was a newly minted software developer. I had an entry-level job for a while and then got recruited to a new city and a new job that paid 3x what I was making before. It was an offer too good to pass up. I ran the numbers and it was a no-brainer: by living frugally and saving my entire salary, living off just her income, we would easily have enough in a year to put 20% down payment on a new house.

We rented an apartment in the new city that was listed for $950/mo. The landlord was a real estate agent who owned a two-bedroom condo as an investment property. Let’s call him "Hank Wazowski". Hank was a thin, gray, no-nonsense guy. He was pleasant enough, but perfunctory, dry, and had no sense of humor. He made a point of explaining that under no circumstances was he responsible for maintaining the garbage disposal and that it was NOT included in the rental agreement and he would not be responsible for fixing it were it to break. Um, ok.

He seemed slightly amused by us, a clueless, young, newlywed couple, but I could tell he wanted to rent to us because we were very obviously a safe choice as renters.

We filled out the rental agreement and the credit check, and this is where my troubles began. Hank looked hard at the credit application where I listed my job title, “Software Developer”, and my income, $75k. For a 23-year-old in his second year out of college, in the late 1990’s, this is a small fortune. Throw in my wife’s salary and we were over six figures in income, renting an apartment far beneath our means. Like I said, DINK is the way to go when starting out.

“I can’t believe how much money you make.” Hank must have said half a dozen times, muttering under his breath.

I explained we were saving to buy a house and that we were only going to stay in the apartment a year. “We might stay a few months after the term is over, would month-to-month be ok after a year?”

Hank assured us that would be fine.

We saw Hank only once during the year and he again mentioned my salary and how he couldn’t believe that’s what software developers were making. It was awkward and I gave a vague reply.

Anyway, a year later we had found a house to buy, signed all the papers, and were making plans to move. The new house wasn’t going to be ready until two months after our rental lease was up, so I called Hank to ask if we could, as discussed, simply extend the lease by two months before moving out. Hank assured me on the phone it would be no problem and he would send over an extension for us to sign. The extension arrived in the mail and it included a month-to-month clause and a $500 increase in the rent. I flipped out and called him.

“Hank, why are you increasing the rent over 50%? That’s too much! That’s more than my new mortgage is going to be!”

He was super condescending to me, “RockyMoose, it’s what the apartment goes for now. I would be losing money by renting it for less.” I tried to reason with him but it was very clear he knew we could afford the $500, had no choice in the matter, and he was going to screw us over as best he could. He got angry with me for arguing my point, and I’ll never forget his parting words:

“You don’t have to like it, RockyMoose, you just have to pay it.”

My wife and I tried to figure out a way to move out early by putting our furniture in storage for a couple months and crashing with friends, but it just wasn’t going to work out.

I swallowed my pride and wrote out the check for $1450 for the extra month. A month later I wrote a similar check, and then we moved out. I made sure the apartment was spotless before moving, but still Hank withheld $300 from our security deposit for bullshit things that were just a way for him to squeeze a few more dollars from the kids who made too much money. $100 for cleaning, sure? But $300 was obscene. In my mind, he had screwed me over for $1200 and there was nothing I could do about it.

What made is even more infuriating is that I saw the ad Hank put in the paper after we moved out and he listed the apartment for rent at only $150 more than we had been paying originally, not the grossly-inflated $500 increase. And it didn't rent. A month later I saw the same ad and he had lowered the price to $75 more than we had been paying, and I assume it got rented since the ads stopped appearing.

Fast-forward about five years. Life is good, the house is good, we have a baby, and even though the dotcom bubble has burst, I’m still employed. One day, out of the blue, I overhear one of my co-workers, Phil, a senior developer, talking to the guy working the reception desk:

“Hey, Mike, I’m expecting someone to drop off some paperwork for me. If a Hank Wazowski asks for me, tell him I’ll be right out.” I freeze and get a taste of bile in my mouth remembering how I had to write out that name on those checks all those years ago. There’s no way it’s the same guy, right? I walk over to the Phil who is still by the reception desk.

“Phil,” I say, “How do you know that name, Hank Wazowski?”

Phil explains that Hank is his real estate agent. “I bought my condo through him several years ago. I’m selling my condo now so I can buy a house. So I’m going to ask him to be my agent again. Do you know him?”

I tell Phil that I used to rent an apartment from Hank and described what he looks like. Phil confirms the description: it’s the same guy, wow small world, right? And on cue, right then the front door to the office opens and in walks Hank Wazowski. I stare in disbelief. He’s carrying a folder of papers and doesn’t recognize me.

Phil and Hank shake hands and they talk for a few moments. I stand there silently, wondering what to do. Phil finally says, “Hank, this is my friend RockyMoose, I think you may have already met?”

“Yes, hello Hank. Good to see you again. My wife and I were your tenants a few years ago on ---- Street. Remember, the software developer who rented for a year saving to buy a house? Well, this is where I work. Here. With Phil.”

Hanks eyes indicate he now remembers me, and he’s starting to put it all together. We shake hands and he says yes, of course he remembers and asks how we are doing.

“Oh we’re just fine, thanks for asking. Phil says that you’re his real estate agent. Small world, isn’t it?”

Hanks nods pleasantly. He still doesn’t remember the details of our last conversation.

I do some quick math in my head. This is the early/mid 2000’s, the real estate market is very strong and easy money for any agent. The crash of 2008 is still a few years in the future. I start to think out loud.

“Selling the condo for around $150 to 200 thousand, and you’re looking at houses in the $500 thousand range, so that’s $650 to 700 thousand in total transactions. An agent getting 3% on the sale AND the purchase is getting around $20k for his trouble. That’s a good commission for the agent, isn’t it?

Hanks eyes flash and I can tell he remembers everything about me now. Phil is surprised at my passive-aggressive tone. I am enjoying the uncomfortable silence.

Hank deflects my question, saying it’s complicated, and tells Phil to send back the papers as soon as possible. He shakes hands with Phil, looks at me, nods, and goes to leave. “It was really good to see you again, Hank.” I call behind him.

He exits the building. As the door is still shutting, I say a bit too loudly, so that Hank can hear, “Phil, don’t sign anything just yet, I have a story to tell you.”

Phil looks at me and says, “Rocky, what the hell was that all about?!” He looks pissed and confused at my behavior.

I tell Phil the whole story, the rent, the $500 increase, the security deposit, "you don't have to like it, you just have to pay it," everything. “Phil, you can’t use this guy to sell your condo and buy a house. I hate him. He’s evil. I’ll help you find another real estate agent, just use ANYONE BUT HANK!”

So the great thing about Phil is that, well, he’s a great guy. He says he’s a little surprised at my story and has always known Hank as a straightforward guy. “But I totally see him doing that to you,” he admits. “There’s no way I could use him now. What a dick!”

Then Phil’s eyes lit up a bit, “What do you want me to say when I fire him?” (I have special feelings for Phil now.)

We came up with a plan and I made sure there were some key phrases in Phil’s repertoire. We planned it all out together in advance. My only regret is that I didn’t get to see Hank’s reaction in person a day later when Phil made the following phone call while I stood behind him listening:

“Hi, Hank? It’s Phil calling. Yeah, about that. I’ve decided to get some other quotes from other agents. I’m not going to sign up with you …

[pause]

“No no, you shouldn’t give a discount. You’d be losing money if you did that . . .

[pause]

“No, this is just a decision I’ve made . . . no, it has nothing to do with RockyMoose . . .

[pause]

“Well, you don’t have to like it, Hank. You just have to accept it. Good bye.”

CLICK

And it was the greatest revenge I could have ever imagined: through a chance meeting years later, Hank got screwed out of twenty thousand dollars in easy commissions. And the best part is Hank absolutely KNEW it had EVERYTHING to do with RockyMoose!

(source) (story by RockyMoose)

#prorevenge #by RockyMoose #pro revenge #revenge stories #pro revenge stories #pro #revenge #pettyrevenge

2K notes · View notes

melaninkpopimagines · 7 years ago

Text

Slick vs Sleek

Jaebum x Reader

*Requested*

Warning: Partial Smut, Violence

Word Count: 4617

Author: Admin Jae

“You know what you came here for. Stay on target” Nigel whispered in the microphone attached to the inside of your ear.

“Yes, I get it. Stop pestering me, will you?” you snapped back. Nigel is your partner during your assignment. You were fond of Nigel, just because he bought humor to the table. Nigel would make it his personal mission to see you crack a smile. He was serving as an intern at Crimson. He graduated top of his class and in his spare time; he hacks and read comic books. He found your stern looks intimidating causing him to be extremely nervous around you. You were known to be a smartass around the office and never followed the rules despite your strong work ethic.

“You look absolutely beautiful tonight” Nigel commented. “Thank you, I try to be a good representation of Crimson. Sexy... Deadly” you said.

You were wearing a sexy red evening dress with a slit and v-neckline that can tease any man. You also carried a concealed weapon underneath. You had stares coming from all directions, men stealing glances from you.

“All right, what’s next?” you said.

“What do mean, what’s next? Haven’t you’ve done this before?” Nigel speculated. “No, I don’t perform stakeouts” you replied. “Well, it’s not our assignment to search and destroy. Keep your eyes sharp and ears open” Nigel urged. “I know Nigel, this isn’t my first day” you reminded handing the guard your gala invitation.

You walked up the marbled steps to the ballroom. Everyone was dressed their very best only to impress those around. It was a very elegant atmosphere. People gathered in discussion barely able to hold their alcohol before the gala starts. “People are already drunk” you observed. “That’s a shame” Nigel said. You caught a glimpse of the most notorious criminal- Silas.

To get a clearer view, you saw a bar across the way to watch. “He’s here” you spoke. “Good, now go entertain him” Nigel encouraged. “I don’t think that’s the best idea” you rejected. Walking gracefully past everyone, until you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder, “Excuse me Miss, may I have moment of your time?” a gentleman asked.

He was dressed in all black. His hair was slid back exposing the two beauty marks above his left eye. He was blessed with a chiseled jawline and defined cheekbones and broad shoulders. Something about his eyes, you found him intimidating and intriguing. He was a sharp dresser no doubt. Yet behind his appearance, he had a mysterious aurora about him.

“No, you can’t” you said as you kept walking with your hips swinging. You sat in a bar stool. “What can I get you?” the bartender asked. “Yes, I’ll take Vodka martini”. “Don’t you think it’s too early for a drink” Nigel questioned. “Shut up” you said. The bartender threw you a confused look. “Oh no, not you. I wasn’t talking to you. I’m sorry” you apologized.

You looked at your surroundings. Security was tight, there were guards at the major exits.

“Ok, here are your drinks Miss.” the Bartender announced pushing two drink towards you.

“I only ordered the Vodka Martini” you corrected.

“That guy over there ordered it for you” the bartender pointed.

You look over your shoulder saw the same gentlemen staring at you from afar signaling his drink in the air to give you a toast.

Who is this guy?

“I think I have some company” you said. “Who?” Nigel asked as you heard his fingertips lightly tap the keyboard. “There’s a camera right above him on my 4 o’ clock” you instructed. “Ok, got him. Running a facial recognition now”.

“What’s this anyway?” you asked politely. “It’s Strawberry Pink Moscato Cocktail”. You nodded your head and sipped your drink. It tasted good, smooth and sweet. “Tell him I said thank you”.

“Find anything yet?” you asked as you continued drinking. “Almost the scan is 75% done. It’s searching through all the databases.” Nigel answered. You looked over your shoulder again and saw him walking in your direction. You quickly looked away. “Act natural and be yourself. Smile.” Nigel suggested. “That’s hard to do” you said.

You felt a gentle tap on your shoulder again. “Hi” he said. “Hi” you smiled. He took a seat next to you. You sat your drink down and said, “I didn’t realize a thank you is meant as an invitation to sit with me”. “It is, if she accepts a drink” he smoothly remarked. “Touché” you said grinning. “She smiles” he said eyeing you. “Stop referring to me that way” you said sternly. “I’m sorry, we got on the wrong foot” he said.

“Oh shit!” Nigel gasped over the microphone.

“I’m Jaebum” he extended his hand. “I’m Y/N” you said shaking his hand.

“His name is Im Jaebum. He’s working with Silas as his bodyguard. Y/N, he’s a SILENCER!!! Tread with caution, I repeat tread with caution!” Nigel exclaimed in your ear.

Silencers were bad news for anyone. Hence the name, no one has ever lived to tell.

You kept your composure. “So, you’re not going to use the cheesy phrase” you hinted. “What phrase?” he wondered. “What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?” you said. Jaebum chuckles to himself and responds “I don’t see a girl. I only see a woman”.

You nod your head and turned your body towards Jaebum. The slit resting on the left side, you seductively rose your left leg over exposing such beautiful skin. “That I am” you said. He smiles and continue eyeing you.

“What’s going on?” Nigel interrupts. You didn’t answer.

“Why are you here?” Jaebum asked. “Someone sent me an invitation” you remarked finishing your Vodka martini. “Who exactly?” he edged more.

“Your boss?” you shrugged your shoulders.

“You do realize I am head of security, right?” he assumed.

“No, I couldn’t, you must be a Rent-A-Cop” you replied.

Jaebum moves his jacket and shows you his gun resting at his waist. You raise an eyebrow. “Should I be afraid of that?” you asked. “No but you should be afraid” Jaebum suggested getting a sip of his drink. “Of what exactly?” you wondered.

He leaned into your ear and whispered…

“Me”

You gasped under his touch as he gently caressed his hand up your revealed thigh.

He felt your gun and pulled it from your thigh holster.

“Shit” you mumbled under your breath.

“Look what we have here. A gun. Ms. Y/N. I don’t know who you are but I do know you won’t cause a scene tonight.” he said

You kept your composure and asked “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I’ll have to punish you” he smirked.

“Enjoy your evening Ms. Y/N”

He left his seat, walked away and winked back at you. You were shaking. “Y/N, are you still there?” Nigel chimed in your ear, “What happened?”

“Nothing Nigel” you huffed to catch your breath, “I’m still here”.

The lights grew dimmer and a bright light shined to center stage with the announcer.

“Good evening, everyone and welcome to our annual Charity Gala”.

Everyone gives an around of applause. “This evening we want to think our sponsors for helping us fund and plan this event. And tonight, our biggest contributor is millionaire entrepreneur Silas”. The light shines on him, he stands up to receive a thunderous applause. You scoffed in seat observing the pure nonsense.

He was more than a philanthropist. He was a murderer, a thief, and a liar. He was cruel and merciless. You couldn’t stand the sight of him. It was all a cover up his true nature.

You saw Jaebum standing in the corner behind him. His eyes were right on you. You rolled your eyes. I can’t believe he has my gun and that’s my favorite one.

“He took my gun” you grumbled.

“He what?” Nigel wondered.

“He took my fucking gun” you said. “I want it back!”.

“Y/N don’t do anything drastic. Stick to the plan” Nigel encouraged.

A young gentleman was passing around numbered cardholders. You were handed the number seven.

“We are about to begin our auction this evening and all the money raised for each item will go towards our World Relief Foundation”.

“Tonight, we are starting our auction with the most expensive device in the cyber market”. They placed a small gray hardware decoder on the auction table. It didn’t look like much. Who would want this piece of junk?

“This little guy has a history; it was first created during the Cold War. It was unknown when or where during that time-period. However, we do know that it was supposedly used to decode top secrets information. It’s called Decon20, it is also presumed to bypass all firewall security and networks faster than a room full of computers working at the same time”.

The whole audience was amazed and whispering amongst themselves.

“Alright let’s get started. Place your bets” the announcer said, “starting at $50,000”.

“Remember Crimson got you covered for the amount. They will only provide you with $50 million dollars to use to get it” Nigel said. “Copy” you said.

You rose your cardholder immediately high in the air first. “Alright, we have the lady by the bar for $50,000----going once, going twice. Going for 1 million dollars”

“Uh no. I have this older gentleman right here for 1 million dollars. Anyone for 10 million dollars-going once, going twice”

You rose your cardholder again. “Alright the lady again by the bar for 10 million dollars. Alright. Anyone for 20 million dollars----going once, going twice….”

Silas rose his cardholder. “Alrighty now, we have Silas wanting to join the fun. $20 million dollars does anyone want to go any higher”. You were determined not to lose to Silas. You need that Decon. You rose your cardholder again. “Lady by the bar is very determined this evening, 30 million dollars----going once, going twice”. The older gentlemen back down from the offer.

Now it was just you and Silas.

Silas rose his cardholder. “Silas for $40 million dollars, do you want to go any higher lady?” the auctioneer asked.

You rose your cardholder. “Now, you are fierce. $50 million dollars”. You were staring at Silas. He paused for a moment and whispered in his accountant’s ear. He nodded his head and finally rose his cardholder again. “Omg, $60 million dollars”.

“You can’t go over 50 million dollars. We lost this bet” Nigel responded. “Fuck it” you whispered to yourself.

“100 million dollars!” you spoke loudly. The entire audience turned their attention to you. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU JUST DO?!” Nigel cursed. You didn’t answer him.

“100 million dollars. Silas, can you top that?” the auctioneer asked. Silas rose from his seat and drew his attention to you. “She can have it” he spoke.

“Alright folks, there you have it. Decon 20 is going that pretty lady by the bar. Come claim your item and pay in the back” the auctioneer instructed. You nodded your head and was escorted backstage.

“Where the hell, are you going to get the rest of the money?” Nigel asked. “Do you honestly think I’m broke?” you retaliated. The things I do for this agency.

You went backstage. You saw Silas approaching you with Jaebum alongside him.

Silas came from a rich family. His birth is unknown however he grew up in London. He dropped out of college at the age of 19 but had extreme interest in computer hacking. Good thing his family could pay the cops off. He hated his family and never spoke to them after he left college. He made his living working for criminals around the world. His skillset was vital to anyone. When he realized this, he decided to go into business for himself selling arms, cars, money, sometimes drugs to whoever was willing to be the biggest ATM machine. No one has ever caught him.

“Well, you are a very lovely woman. Be careful with that. You don’t want it to get in the wrong hands” Silas whispered in your ear and smirked at you.

“Trust, I can take of myself, thank you very much” you said as you finished paying.

Silas face grew slight grim and he narrowed his eyes at you. “I’m sorry have we met?” he asked. “No” you replied. “Mhm. Maybe we can meet sometime?” Silas smirked again.

“I have things to do. I don’t have time for you or anyone for that matter” you answered carrying the Decon in your hand.

“Well, maybe I can arrange something?” Silas started walking alongside you as you began to head to front entrance. Jaebum walking behind you two.

“How about no?” you said shook your head. “Shame. I’m never rejected easily by a woman” Silas laughed. “Well, there’s a first time for everything” you sarcastically replied.

“I guess there is” Silas said. “Have a goodnight, Miss…” he paused. “Y/N. Goodnight” you said walking down the remainder of steps to the front steps.

You got outside, it just finished raining. There was a black car parked out front. Nigel was waiting in front of the driver’s door wearing his driver disguise. Nigel opened it for you as you crawled inside. He got into the driver’s seat and began to drive.

“Well that went well” Nigel finally smiled. “If you say so” you said. “What happened in there?” Nigel asked checking the mirror for the car behind him.

“Nothing really. I just got Decon 20 and left. I didn’t want to stay” you said. Nigel nodded his head. “I think Silas took some sort of interest in me” you blurted out.

Nigel choked gasping for air. “WHAT?” he exclaimed. “Oh God, I hope not” he said. “Why do you say that?” you curiously asked.

“Because I’m sure you’ll kill the man in his sleep that’s why” Nigel explained. You nodded your head in agreement. Nigel was right, you’d kill him if he even touches you.

“There’s a file right next to you about Jaebum” Nigel said.

You scanned over the file. His facial profile and records. “He served in the Korean Military for a short time. He’s a master marksman. He specializes in hand-to-hand combat just like you. But that’s all we know”. You laughed and replied “But I’m pretty badass with a knife though”. Nigel smiled. “At least you didn’t have use your gun, right?” Nigel added.

“Fuck, he took my gun” you blurted. “Maybe he’ll return it” Nigel proposed. “I doubt it” you said staring out the window.

“Are we heading back to the hotel?” Nigel asked. “Yes, please. Enough scouting for today. We have to continue our work tomorrow” you instructed. Nigel drove you to the hotel.

“Good night Y/N. See you tomorrow morning” Nigel said as he opened the car door for you. “Good night Nigel. Sleep well” you said heading for the hotel entrance.

You carried the Decon20 under your arm. For something to be this small, it was a little heavy. You exited the elevator to your floor. You pulled the room key from your dress and entered the room.

You didn’t leave it dark, you left the tv running and lamps on. You heard a slight shuffle from the chair in the corner of your room. You tried to pull you gun but you didn’t have it. “SHIT” you said and turned the light on behind you.

You found Jaebum sitting in the chair holding your own gun in his hand. You didn’t flinch.

You rose an eyebrow puzzled. “You do realize you have something that belongs to me, right?” you said.

“Same” Jaebum motioned the gun and eyes to the bed. You placed the Decon20 on the table. You moved slowly and sat quietly on the bed. You huffed. “Let me guess Silas sent you to get the Decon20” you suggested. He slowly nodded. You nodded too and asked “How do you want to do this?”.

“We can either do this the easy way or hard way?” Jaebum offered.

“The easy way sounds good. But I prefer the hard way because I don’t cooperate with people that are trying to kill me” you said.

“I don’t want to do this to you” Jaebum spoke “but I need it”.

“You don’t need shit, Silas needs it” you said. Jaebum huffed, a shot rang passed your ear.

You froze realizing he could have shoot your ear off. “Really?” you asked. “Really!” Jaebum said motioning towards the Decon20.

You kicked your gun away his hand and kicked him back into the chair. Your gun flew into the air, landed near the door. You ran for your gun, Jaebum jumped the ground and grabbed your legs towards him and pulled you towards him. You were a few inches away from. He pulled you some more. You kicked him in the face twice and crawled for the gun. You reached the gun to shoot him, he quickly came behind you twisting your arm to disarm you. You headbutted him in the face, some blood started seeping down out his nose. He wiped his nose on his white-sleeve. You kicked him in the stomach while he was distracted. Jaebum tumbled to the ground. He swiped his legs quickly under you. Your legs buckled from his hit causing you to fall as well. He quickly crawled on top and began choking you. You tried to pull him off, his strength was no match. You grabbed your gun from your peripheral to hit him. He fell back holding his head. Coughing, you gasped for air. You pulled the trigger hoping to shoot. No bullets came out. There was only one bullet in your gun and he wasted it. Jaebum smiles at you.

“You really thought I would let you shoot me” Jaebum laughed.

You threw your gun away from you frustrated. You both had enough strength to stand up. Facing one another, he lunged at you with everything he has. He bolted you against the wall, you held your hands together and pulled all your upper strength together and plummeted both hands into his back three hard times. He groaned and dropped to the floor slightly, he pulled himself together and grabbed both your ankles pulling you. You bumped your head against the floor hard. You laid there for a few seconds trying to regain consciousness, Jaebum standing over you.

“I’m sorry” and punches you in the face.

You slowly opened your eyes slowly. Your eyes scanned the room, you found Jaebum searching your belongings. You blinked some more. The right side of your face was experiencing dull pain. You moved your mouth around, you were lucky your jaw wasn’t broken. Your wrists and ankles felt very stiff. Fully conscious, you realized your arms and legs were apart from each other. You turned to your right and left tied to each bed post. Only in your black lingerie.

“Hey, let me go!” you shouted. JB still searching. “I’ll do that until I find every weapon hidden in this room” he replied walking in the bathroom.

There was a black bag sitting on the chair, the Decon20 was inside along with your weapons. He came out the bathroom with your knife set in his hands. “Knives need to be used for cooking not killing” he said placing them in his bag.

“Just like hands shouldn’t be used for hitting women” you remarked. “And in defense, you tried to kill me and I said I was sorry”. You rolled your eyes.

He began scouring your night table. “Hey, that’s private!” you exclaimed. “No matter how loud you shout. Remember you decided to get a soundproof suite” he said quietly searching.

His face turned completely stiff and red as he pulled out your favorite toy. “Well, no wonder you don’t have time for anyone. You’re too busy with this” he said as he appeared with your vibrator. He stood over you and smirked. “Ok so what’s your point?” you suggested. “Well, I was thinking I would put this to use” he said. Your eyes widen in shook, out of your mouth came “Don’t”.

“I’m just curious, what exactly makes Y/N tick?” he wondered. You sighed. “Why does it matter?” you asked. “Because you decided to choose the hard way remember?” he recalled, “So I’m going to make sure you get what you deserve”.

Jaebum stood at the edge of the bed, turning on your vibrator. He was adjusting to how it worked. He was intrigued. He shook his head and spoke “Instead of this, you could have had the real deal”.

He crawled on the bed on top of you. You heaved as his hands gently roamed your body. He wasn’t rough with you. “You’re not protesting” he said. “How could I when I’m tied up” you reminded. “I don’t want to hurt you” he spoke softly caressing your face. “You already did” you said looking him directly in his eyes. He nodded his head not denying your statement.

From his eyes to his nose to his lips, you couldn’t stop staring at how handsome he is. He was staring back at you. He inched forward and pressed his lips into yours. His lips were soft to kiss. You slightly parted your lips just get a small taste of him. He kissed your cheek and whispered in your ear, “You’re so beautiful” and kissed you with more passion. You couldn’t resist his sultry aura. He kissed your neck and moved downward. His hot breath against your skin sent shivers down your spine. He stopped himself between your aroused peaks. He slid his tongue to your right peak and twirled his tongue around. Your nipples were so hard and sensitive to his touch you managed to let out as soft moan. His other hand groped the other. He changed his direction to the left peak. He stopped and kissed your temple reaching his final descent.

He slid your panties down slightly. He rubbed his thumb over your moist lips. “Someone’s wet” he said turning the vibrator on.

“Which is it” he asked.

“What?” you wondered.

“Which are you wet, for me or this? Answer truthfully” he teased.

You huffed and answered “You”.

“Wrong answer. As much as I would like to believe you. I don’t. You’re not very convincing” Jaebum smirked as he rubbed the vibrator against your entrance. You quivered. He was teasing you, you didn’t like to be teased. Neither as a joke and especially not in bed. Your breathing became heavy as he continued. You let out a moan.

“Does Y/N want more?” he asked sweetly.

“Yes” you spoke softly.

“Alright then” he said and inched the entire vibrator into your heated core. You let your head fall back and absorb the sudden movements your vibrator made inside of you. You were becoming wet by the second, what made it worse; Jaebum purposely thrusted inward and outward just to see your reaction. Jaebum lightly sucked your nipples as he did so. You were going insane from the sheer pleasure, you started rocking your body wanting your vibrator to go deeper to reach your furthest.

“You like that, don’t you?” Jaebum asked.

“Yes” you whimpered, his thrusts went faster. “Oh God, don’t stop” you pleaded.

“I’m not going to until you see you cum for me” Jaebum replied kissing you.

“Ahh shit!” you said arching your back off the bed.

He took the vibrator out leaving you with trembling pussy and a free clit he graciously licked and sucked on. This wasn’t anything you experienced before. If you weren’t tied up, your hands would be in his hair helping him steadily eat everything you had to offer. You edged your pussy further into his mouth. His tongue swirled around your clit and your entrance. You were so wet, no matter how much his tongue entered you, more cum seeped into the bedspread.

He grabbed the vibrator and plunged into you. He changed the setting to the fastest. You began to shake. You curled your toes from the intensity, you were no match for it. You whimpered in pleasure. “Yes, baby. Yes baby. Give it to me! Oh, God Yes Jaebum! Please Don’t Stop!” you rocked harder to the vibrator. You felt your core began to tighten. You were ready to release all your stress.

“Please Y/N cum for me” Jaebum whispered in your ear. Your eyes rolled backwards. “I’m cumming”. You let out a loud moan, you felt yourself slipping; your juices poured into the bedspread. Jaebum slurped the rest of your cum seeping out. You were shaking, your body felt every sensation he sent every time he licked your clit. Your body went limp, you released yourself to a someone you didn’t know.

“It’s wonderful seeing such a woman like yourself this way” Jaebum said. He kissed you passionately. Your body began to relax. He got up from the bed and place the vibrator on the nightstand.

“Oh my God” you huffed, you were embarrassed. “Don’t be embarrassed. If I had more time, I would fuck you until you couldn’t walk; but I have to get going” he said.

He went over to his bag sitting on the chair. Jaebum pulls out a needle from his black bag. Your eyes widen in horror, you toss and turn trying to stop him but you were still tied to the bed posts.

“Calm down! I’m just making sure you’re not going to follow me. I’m going to put you to sleep for a little while” he said injecting the substance in your arm.

“Why are you doing this?” your speech started to slur.

“Because…..” his voice became muffled. Your eyes were closing against your will. You fell into a deep sleep.

The sunlight streamed past the blinds hitting your eyes. You slowly opened them to see the room completely empty. Jaebum was nowhere in sight. You moved your arms and legs realizing he took the restraints off. Your body was aching all over. You slowly walked to the bathroom, you found a small bruise on your face from where Jaebum punched you. You rubbed your face and splashed warm water on your face. You searched through your drawers luckily, he left your clothes the same, but took your vibrator with him. Son of a bitch.

This is the second time he took something from you. You took a shower, it felt good to have hot water to relax your muscles from last night’s soiree. You came out the bathroom in your robe hearing your cellphone ring.

You answered “Morning Nigel”.

“What the hell happen last night?!” Nigel barked.

“It was a misunderstanding. I can explain” you spoke softly as your rubbed your forehead in frustration.

“Well you better explain that to Crimson and tell them how the hell Decon20 ended up with Silas! Our asses are on the line now! They are calling us in!” Nigel scolded.

You huffed over the phone, you quickly got your thoughts together.

“Nigel pick me up in 20 minutes. I’ll be ready. Call them back and tell them I’ll be in” you instructed.

“Alright” he said and hung up.

You huffed some more and fell back into the bed staring at the ceiling. You closed your eyes to the events that occurred last night. How could I let myself slip so easily to Jaebum. I would never do this on a regular assignment. What’s happening to me! Why did I let him take control? He knew what buttons to push and what I craved. I’m better than this!

Absorbing all your anger and frustration, you opened your eyes determined to set things straight. I’m coming for you Silas.

241 notes · View notes

kateofthecanals · 7 years ago

Text

For the (Not)Watch: Episode 7.7

Our Long National Nightmare Is Finally Over... Or Just Beginning(?)

As far as anyone reviewing this episode is concerned, all that really matters in this 80-minute-long episode is the final 5 minutes. 75 minutes of utter nonsense will likely be immediately forgotten because... well, first things first...

The season finale was written by D&D, and in case you were doubtful about that, the opening scene contained not, not two, but FIVE cock-bombs within the first 2 minutes. Excellent jobs, guys, WHEW, in fact the TV Academy is gonna change their rules and issue you an honorary Emmy just for that brilliant feat alone!

Anyway, the Unsullied are all standing outside... well, I thought it was Casterly Rock but I guess it’s just outside the Red Keep? Bronn is running around giving orders even though he told Jaime last episode that he was peacing out, then he and Jaime have a super profound conversation about how the only thing worth fighting for is your dick. Gosh, Dave & Dan really outdone themselves this time!

Then they are somehow taken by surprise by the Dothraki suddenly being right on their doorstep, even though they’re high up on the battlements and shoulda seen that coming for at least a few miles but whatever.

Meanwhile, Dany’s ships make their way up the Blackwater, where Euron’s fleet is parked. Tyrion and Jon then have a little convo about city-livin’. Meanwhile, Sanford sneaks below decks and starts knocking on the crate containing the wight because he is an infant with no self-control. (Seriously, can someone please get him a goddamn fidget-spinner or a coloring book or something??)

In the RK, Cersei is giving a little pre-game pep talk to Gregor, telling him to just go ahead and kill everyone if something goes wrong, while Jaime looks on in... Confusion? Horror? Constipation? Not sure what exactly this look was supposed to be:

So Team North is making their way toward the Keep on foot while Jorah gives Missendei a history lesson about the dragonpit (we assume, since it’s never actually referred to by name) and they are soon met with Bronn followed by a team of Lannister soldiers as well as Pod and Brienne, who makes immediate eye-contact with Sandor. They follow Bronn up the trail and Pod has a little reunion with Tyrion that was almost heartfelt until Bronn moseys by and yells “Come on, you can suck his magic cock later!”

Speaking of reunions, Brienne lags back to fall in step with Sandor, who, shockingly, does not tell her to “fuck off”! She tells him she was only trying to protect Arya, and he says “You and me both.” She then reveals that she is alive and in Winterfell. He asks who is protecting her if she (Brienne) is here and Brienne says that the only one who needs protecting is the one who gets an Arya’s way, to which Sandor replies with a slight glint, “It won’t be me.” They exchange a knowing look.

So SIGH okay... if it weren’t for the fact that I am getting so thoroughly gypped on SanSan, I’d probably enjoy this scene a lot more. I’m not terribly mad that they didn’t bring up Sansa, only because Brienne has no knowledge of a pre-existing “relationship“ between her and Sandor, and I’m very happy that (a) Sandor was able to have a conversation with someone like a fucking grown-up for a change and (b) that he and Brienne have set aside their differences, because I ALWAYS wanted them to be allies (especially where Sansa is concerned). But knowing how much D&D prioritize Sandor’s relationship with Arya makes me instinctively begrudging of this scene... because we should have had at least ONE mention of Sansa in his presence this season ffs. Like, in this scene alone, why they hell couldn’t Jon have interrupted and been like “uhhhh what are you doing here, shouldn’t you be looking after Sansa at WF?” BOOM. It’s that fucking easy, folks. So, yeah, I guess I kinda love/hate this scene. (If we do end up getting SanSan in Season 8, I’ll happily revisit this scene with fresh perspective!)

Meanwhile, another riveting reunion between Tyrion and Bronn, where Tyrion reminds Bronn of his offer that he will pay double whatever Cersei’s paying him, and Bronn’s like “nah I’m delivering a bunch of traitors to the Queen’s feet, the payout’s gonna be amazeballs!”

So they all arrive to the Main Stage and are just sorta milling around until Cersei gets there. While they’re waiting, Sandor rolls up on Tyrion and talking about how he left the city because he didn’t wanna die in it and ask if he’s actually gonna die in it. UM THEN WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU EVEN THERE??? Seriously, why was it so crucial for HIM to be there instead of, say, Tormund? Or Beric? Why didn’t Jon say, “yo, thanks for helping catch this wight, now I think your services would be more useful in Winterfell with my sisters” or something? Or why wouldn’t Sandor have volunteered to do that himself? Why wouldn’t he have 100% protested going back to King’s Landing, where he is a wanted man and where, but his own admission, he didn’t want to be because he didn’t want to die there?? UGH......

So anyway, Sandor blames Tyrion for him being there (uh, no) and says every bad idea seems to have a Lannister behind it, and Tyrion counters by saying every bad Lannister idea has a Clegane to help carry it out.

AND GUESS WHO SHOWS UP JUST AT THAT VERY MOMENT, YOU GUYS?? Yep, Gregor leads the Cersei party into the pit, and everybody’s eyeballin’ each other -- Cersei giving stankeye to Tyrion, Euron leering at Theon, Brienne tryna catch Jaime’s eye but he just totally breezing past her (rude!)...

Everyone takes their seats but first Sandor and Gregor need to beat their chests at each other for a bit.

Sandor points out that Gregor is “even uglier” than himself now and asks “What did they do to you?” And I couldn’t help but detect a slight note of pity in Sandor’s voice and on his face... which he actually has to “snap” himself out of. (I’m sure this was all Rory and not something D&D intended in the script.)

^^ That’s not the exact shot I’m talking about, but even here, it’s kind of hard to look at this and believe there’s just unbridled hate happening. RMC himself has stated that he doesn’t believe Sandor is full of hate anymore, and that seems evident in his performance during this scene. He delivers the lines which are clearly meant to seed “Cleganebowl” in such a way that makes it seem more like he’s saying “You’re a fucking shitperson but look at you now, you have no more power over me and you’re just kinda pathetic and I’m done.” That’s how it read to me, that’s how Rory made me feel in this scene despite the actual words they made him recite, and I’m sticking to it! ;-P

Anywayyyyyz, Sandor then disappears into the barracks below while everyone is now sitting around waiting for Dany. She finally makes her grand entrance on Drogon’s back, and everyone is in awe, including those who have seen the damn dragons before, all except Cersei, who could not look less impressed.

So, now that everyone is assembled for “Westeros’s Got Talent”, host Tyrion Lannister can now introduce---

Oops, nope, wait, first Euron has to pull his Drunk Uncle act and start taunting Theon. Tyrion’s like CAN WE PLEASE REMOVE THE HECKLERS and then Euron makes a joke about Tyrion’s height until finally Cersei's like SIT THE FUCK DOWN OR GET THE FUCK OUT.

So now Tyrion can begin his spiel, and eventually Jon jumps in to deliver the most motivational line ever: “This isn’t about living in harmony; it’s just about living.” Cool incentive, bro! He then explains that the million people living in KL are about to become soldiers in the Army of the Dead, and Cersei’s like “That would be an improvement for them!” HAHAHA SMALLFOLK SO DUMB AND USELESS AMIRITE??

Dany tells Cersei that she won’t make any moves against her until the Northern threat is dealt with and is only looking for a truce in the meantime, but Cersei “Blew Up a Sept To Steal The Throne” Lannister says she doesn’t trust the word of a would-be usurper lolololol.

Then Tyrion’s like “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, CHILDREN OF ALL AGES, MAY I PRESENT TO YOU... THE WHITE WALKER!!!!”

Cue Sandor lugging the crate up the steps and taking like an hour to open it. When he finally does, nothing happens, and it’s starting to get super awkward and Sandor’s like “psssst come on dude you’re embarrassing me!” before he finally just kicks over the crate. The wight goes buckwild and starts running straight toward Cersei but Sandor stops him just in time with a little chain leash (from the Sandra Bolton Collection™?). NOW we have Cersei’s attention!

Then it turns into the weirdest infomercial I’ve ever seen...

Are you tired of ORDINARY weapons that just WON’T give you the white walker-killing results you need? UGH! There has GOT to be a BETTER WAY!

Introducing the DragonGlass5000™!

It slices! It dices! It kills all those pesky white walkers INSTANTLY!

The patented forged-by-dragon-fire blades are so durable, they can cut through bones as easily as a tomato!

BUT WAIT THERE’S MORE!

If you act now, we’ll throw in an entire Northern army ABSOLUTELY FREE! (Just pay processing and handling.)

ORDER TODAY BEFORE THE ARMIES OF DARKNESS DESCEND UPON US ALL!

Of course Qyburn has a total necro-boner over all of this, while Euron “Will Make Ramsay Look Like a Puppy” Greyjoy is right SHOOK?? LOL okay... He asks Jon if they can swim and Jon says “it depends on the plot” no, and Euron’s like GOOD CUZ I AM GETTING THE FUCK OUTTA HERE WITH MY FLEET AND HOLING UP ON THE IRON ISLANDS CUZ I’M AFEEEAAARRRED!!! And he just leaves.

Anyway, Cersei’s like WELL I’M CONVINCED and accepts the truce, under the condition that the North remains neutral and doesn’t take up arms against the Lannisters ever. Which seems like a pretty reasonable deal but then Jon “Always Has To Ruin Everything” Snow is like NO DEAL CUZ DANY AND ME ALREADY GOIN’ STEADY. Cersei’s like “Okay cool then have fun with your zombie buddies, Lannister Out!”

As they’re leaving, someone pretending to be Brienne of Tarth tries to convince Jaime to talk to the Queen because “fuck loyalty!” and “honor” and “oaths”! Of course the person who abandoned Sansa in order to go revenge-kill Stannis and then suffer zero consequences from that decision would say such a thing... (Oh dear gods, Gwen, please PLEASE read the books....)

Dany and Tyrion then begin to berate Jon for not lying to Cersei, and Jon actually makes some valid points about how words stop having any meaning if people just keep lying and making false promises (am I watching the same show??). Finally Tyrion volunteers to go chitty-chat with Cersei...

Now, the fact that Cersei left the pit without immediately calling for the arrest of Tyrion and/or Sandor is rather preposterous. And before you say “but doing that woulda started an all-out war right then and there!”, let me remind you that Tyrion wouldn’t let Jon go and talk to Cersei because he was convinced Cersei would KILL him “for sure”.... Sooo obviously they didn’t think Cersei would be too concerned that pulling some bullshit would start more bullshit. And let’s be honest -- who would have really cared if she’d called for Sandor’s arrest? No one’s going to war over the Hound. :-/

So Tyrion goes to see Cersei, and Peter and Lena act their faces off, which is nice I guess if not for the stilted dialogue but they always manage to sell it. At one point, Tyrion triple-dog-dares Cersei to just go ahead and have him killed (Gregor’s body is ready!) but somehow she can’t bring herself to do it... Plot Armor is just too strong! Tyrion insists he’s still pro-Lannister and Cersei’s asks then why the hell is he working with Dany and he says he believes she’ll make the world a better place (with his sage guidance). He then soon figures out that she’s pregnant but only because she’s been rubbing her belly and wiggling her eyebrows up and down at him for the last 15 minutes...

Meanwhile, in the dragonpit, Team North is just kicking rocks (or animal bones) while Dany and Jon talk about dragons and shit and at some point she mentions how she can’t have kids, and Jon asks who told her, and she says “the witch who killed my husband” -- which, if I’m not mistaken, never actually happened on the show? Seriously, can’t these guys hire a fucking continuity supervisor or something who can be like “yo that never happened in previous seasons??” I mean, not that they’d ever listen to him... So, nevermind I guess.

Anyway, the best part of this scene is the rest of the characters literally just wandering aimlessly in the background.

So then Tyrion comes moping back into the pit to deliver the news, but before he can say anything, Cersei and her posse comes stomping the runway once more and she announces that she’s sending all her peeps north with them and that she hopes that they remember how nice she was once the war is over (mmm-hmmmmm)...

Meanwhile in Winterhell, Sansa has received a raven from Jon telling her he’s pledged allegiance to Dany and of course she’s annoyed af, and of course LF is right there next to her like “Oh my GOD I cannot BELIEVE he did that to you what a DICK!!” and also of course suggests that Sansa could reclaim her claim if Jon decides to go kick it with Dany on the reg, but Sansa says Arya would probably kill her for that. Then LF starts laying down his step-by-step scientific method for figuring out what someone wants and suggests Sansa use it on Arya, which leads them both to the laughable conclusion that Arya herself wants to be Lady of Winterfell. Yeah, sure, the girl who specifically stated in the first season that she didn’t want to be a lady AT ALL... wants to rule Winterfell. Gold stars all around, geniuses!!

Team North is back on Dragonstone plotting their next move. Jon wants Dany to sail with him to White Harbor as opposed to Jorah’s idea that she fly there herself because it’s safer. Buuuut we already know how this goes, don’t we? Dany of course takes Jon’s suggestion.

Later on, Jon and Theon have a heart-to-heart which SEEMED like it was going in the direction of Theon declaring that he always considered the Starks more like his family than the Greyjoys and that he wanted to atone for betraying Robb by fighting for Jon’s cause but AHHHHHAHAHA PSYCHE he’s totally choosing his abusers! Hooray! With that, he tries to catch a ride back to KL to rescue Yara and gets the shit beat out of him in one of the most disgusting scenes I’ve ever seen on this show, where Theon has to “prove his worth” by learning how to be violent again. Awesome. It all culminates in a truly reprehensible moment where he is kicked between the legs but.... it doesn��t have any effect?? For some reason?? I’m no goddamn expert but I am pretty sure a swift knee to the groin would hurt like hell whether you have a penis or not. Wow, a new low even for D&D....

Back at Winterhell, Sansa is standing out on the battlements looking very introspective, then she tells a random guard to bring Arya to the Great Hall.

Cut to the Great Hall, where Sansa and Bran are seated up front and the rest of the room seems to be populated only by LF, Yohn Royce, and soldiers... meaning, no Northern Lords present. An important detail to keep in mind... Anyway, Arya is brought before Sansa and Sansa starts rattling off a list of charges. “How do you respond to these charges.... LORD BAELISH??”

LF is like WHO, ME?? And Sansa pulls out ALL the receipts, starting with Lysa, then the letter she wrote to Cat, then LF betraying Ned. LF’s all YOU WEREN’T THERE YOU CAN’T PROVE A THING to which Miss Cleo decides to pipe in recall how LF put a knife to Ned’s throat and whatnot, which everyone just IMMEDIATELY buys without question.

(gosh, if only there was someone who HAD been there and witnessed it firsthand and could have provided concrete evidence in lieu of having to call the Psychic Friends Network for verification...)

Sansa repeatedly asks LF if he denies these charges and LF repeatedly responds YES but apparently it’s just a rhetorical question? Sansa thanks LF for all the lessons and gives Arya the go to slice his throat open. The End.

Sooooo. Yeah. Much like the Sandor/Brienne scene, I have a complicated love/hate relationship with this scene. For starters the GIGANTIC ASS-PULL it required to get here. Apparently D&D would like us to believe that, thanks to Bran, Sansa and Arya have been in possession of this information for some time now, and I guess they want us to also believe that Arya’s threats to kill Sansa were just a ruse (which they were BOTH in on) in order to lead on LF?? Huh? First of all, WHY? What could POSSIBLY have been the point?? How the fuck did that conversation go??

Bran: “LF totally betrayed Dad.”

Sansa: “Really? Holy shit, we need to execute his ass immediately.”

Arya: “No, wait! I have an even BETTER idea! Let’s make him think we want to kill each other first!”

Sansa: “OMG brilliant!”

???????????????????????

And then they proceed to threaten each other BEHIND CLOSED DOORS?? THAT DOESN’T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE. If this is truly what we are meant to believe, then they should have given us some indication that LF WAS DIRECTLY AWARE of their fighting, either by showing one of his little spies scurrying out of the woodwork after one of Sansa & Arya’s confrontations, or show LF himself observing nearby. Then we could at least buy that Sansa and Arya were putting on a show for him. But Sansa was SEARCHING ARYA’S ROOM IN SECRET and Arya CLOSED THE DOOR BEHIND HER when she threatened to cut Sansa’s face off! GIVE ME A MOTHERDUCKING BREAK.

A more likely scenario, of course, is that Arya really DID mean all those threats, and they both only became aware of what was happening very recently thanks to Bran. BUT THAT STILL MEANS THAT ARYA FUCKING THREATENED TO KILL HER SISTER. That also means that both of them were too stupid to realize for themselves that LF was playing them and needed Dionne Warwick to clue them in.

Then we get to the way in which LF’s execution was... executed. Soooo I guess this is what the Starks do now? Just murder people willy-nilly without any sort of due process? Much like Ramsay, this felt more like personal vengeance than actual justice. As I mentioned above, no other Northern Lords were present, LF repeatedly denied the charges, but Sansa was just like “Well too bad, DIE!” Aside from Lysa’s death, the only “evidence” they had for the other charges was a kid who talks to trees. Pretty sure that wouldn’t hold up in a trial... which I guess is why they kept the Northern Lords out of this altogether. They never even mentioned how LF conspired with the Tyrells to kill Joffrey -- something he ADMITTED to Sansa. He ADMITTED to conspiracy to commit regicide. This, along with the murder was Lysa, is something he could actually be charged with a crime for. But because the victim was someone Sansa hated anyway, it didn’t “count”. Which proves that none of this was actually about justice; it was vengeance.

Let’s also remember that Sansa finding out that Littlefinger betrayed her father HAPPENED OFF-SCREEN. D&D prioritized a GOTCHA! moment over getting to see Sansa’s reaction to finding out that the man she’s spent the last 4 seasons with was responsible for her father’s death, to see how she came to the conclusion that this was the final straw and that he needed to be dealt with. It’s a moment we've been waiting 7 SEASONS FOR. I don’t know about you, but I would have rather seen that ANY DAY instead of this lame, contrived “ruse” she and Arya cooked up. Because I care more about seeing Sansa learn the truth than I am about seeing Littlefinger get his throat cut. (It’s a very close second though...)

So... yay, Littlefinger’s dead, I guess. And bravo to Sansa for not SMIRKING about it afterwards. But leave it to D&D to make one of the most anticipated moments of the entire series just completely “meh”.

^^^ how one SHOULD look after sentencing a man to death

Down in KL, Cersei finds Jaime planning the expedition north and she’s like “You idiot, we’re not going North.” Of course he’s like BITCH WHAT THE HELL?? He tells her (AGAIN) that they cannot beat Dany & Jon’s combined forces alone, and their only option is to join or die. Cersei again brings up the damn Golden Company and seemed pretty convinced that that (along with sweet sweet ca$h) is their ticket to victory. She then reveals that the real reason Euron left in the middle of the white walker infomercial was because he’s sailing to Essos to recruit the GC. Jaime’s like

But Cersei’s like “yeah well you kiki’d with Tyrion without telling me so we’re even!” But Jaime’s like LOOK BITCH I pledged to go North and that’s what Imma do, which Cersei calls treason. Jaime’s like GURL BYE but he’s intercepted by Gregor. He’s like “oh what you gonna KILL ME now? I’m all you have left!” But Cersei’s like “eh, not really” so Jaime’s like “Then do it, hoe.” She’s REALLY close too but he calls her bluff and struts away. On what freaking planet does Cersei come closer to having JAIME killed than Tyrion???

Last we see Jaime, he’s riding North, presumably by himself.

In Winterfell, Sam and Gilly show up, which answers the question from 2 weeks ago: “Did Sam abandon the Night’s Watch?” LOL why yes, yes he did. He immediately goes to see Bran and then it’s STORYTIME! Gather round, everybody, to hear this tale of how D&D completely screwed the pooch on Jon’s parentage!

See, once upon a time, there was completely Unproblematic White Boy named Rhaegar, a Crown Prince who had a PoC wife named Elia and two kids named Aegon and Rhaenys. You may remember them as the SOLE REASON OBERYN MARTELL CAME TO KING’S LANDING IN SEASON 4.

For reasons unexplained other than TWOO WUV, Rhaegar left his wife and two children, somehow convinced a septon to issue an annulment behind their backs, effectively making their children/heirs into bastards, and then secretly married Lyanna Stark and had another baby with her, whom he also named Aegon(????), simply because “he loved her.” Yep, that’s it. No prophecies, no ambiguity whatsoever... Just a dude who wanted to get his fuck on with another lady, and “Robert’s Rebellion was built on a lie”.

Except Robert’s Rebellion was actually built on the fact that the King murdered one of his feudal lords and his son in cold blood when they appealed to him to make Rhaegar answer for absconding with their daughter & sister. Not an unreasonable request???? Since she was only 15 and betrothed to someone else??

So while Bran is spinning the yarn of The Princess Bride II, we see him in a garden watching as Rhaegar & Lyanna are tying the knot (literally), and I CAN’T BELIEVE THEY’RE SO CHEAP THEY COULDN’T GET RHAEGAR A DIFFERENT WIG AND HAD TO USE VISERYS’S INSTEAD.

And while we’re literally being told how Jon and Dany are related, we are treated to the much-anticipated #BOATSEX! Which was... less two people fucking and more two people planking?? It was literally just two naked people laying on top of each other. It made me... UN-horny??

And thus ends the second consecutive season learning about Jon’s parentage. We’ll call this a Mulligan after last year’s muck-up I guess...

Oh but there’s just one more thing.... Over at Eastwatch, Tormund and Beric are (literally) chillin’ when all of a sudden LOOKEE WHO FINALLY SHOWED UP AFTER 3 SEASONS?? And they brought a new friend -- a blue flame-shootin’ undead dragon (which holes in his wings for some reason?) ready for Demo Day on Extreme Makeover: The Wall Edition. Maybe they should have built a giant moat instead...?

Until next season!!!

22 notes · View notes

mangokiwitropicalswirl · 7 years ago

Text

Gillovny and Buyer’s Remorse

I don’t know if this is necessary or even helpful. We probably don’t need anymore voices weighing in on the state of things in the fandom, so if you’re sick of things and want to look past this, please do. If you venture below the cut, please take this in the spirit you know I intend it -- as a longtime X Files fan with a sometimes-too-soft heart that was weaned on MSR yearning, but who is also striving for a clear-eyed grasp of reality. Here goes:

Since the events of last October, we have had two stark options. 1. To believe that G and D were in a romantic relationship that had come to an abrupt end sometime in September (factoring in Chicago Con, Schmoopie shirts and kind comments about “new incarnation of friendship” uttered at cons early last fall). Or, option 2. To accept that what we saw, read and observed between D and G over the preceding 2 (3?) years was literally nothing more than their typical handsy BFF behavior and a liberal dose of fandom trolling.

Many people were easily able to accept option #2 and move on. Others felt that option #1 might have been the case, and if so, well, earlier behavior on twitter was understandably coming to an end.

But Option #1 didn’t really bear out as we observed a few continued playful interactions between G and D on twitter and nothing but positives on Ds end when he spoke about her at a con in January. And then came the Webby’s, which put to rest any idea that there might have been an acrimonious breakup of any kind.

Which circles us all back to option #2. Which is where we are today.

I see a lot of posts claiming that Gillovny fans are “angry” at G for her trolling of fans throughout the past couple years, but I haven’t seen much of that anger. What has been hard to stomach for those of us who have been slow to accept Option #2, is the accusation that I am somehow “not happy for Gillian” because she isn’t “dating who I want.”

This is ridiculous.

Of course I am happy if G is happy. Who she dates is something I have absolutely no control over, nor would I want to. She obviously knows herself, knows what she needs from a relationship, and has her own history with men to work with. I -- and I dare say, none of the folks who shipped Gillovny -- would never suggest that I somehow know better for her than she knows for herself.

And yet, we’re stuck with feelings. Lots of feelings. And I have been trying to pin down the nature of those feelings a little more precisely. It’s not anger, because that would assume there was something to be angry about. And it’s not sadness, because again, why should I be sad if Gillian is happy?

No, the feeling I am feeling is a very serious and intense case of buyer’s remorse.

Because I. Fucking. Bought it.

I bought into the Gillovny ship big time. It honestly was part of what brought me back into the fandom because, lord knows, the narrative of two old sometimes-at-odds costars now blissfully happy to be together (in whatever form) was a damn better narrative than ANYTHING written in season 10. And here’s the crux:

I bought into the Gillovny ship because it was being sold to me. They sold the ever-loving shit out of it for several years.

Some people will say we should not have bought it, that Gillian always maintained it was a game, that David tried to sternly shut it down numerous times. But to say we shouldn’t have bought it is sort of like saying to a person during the subprime mortgage crisis that they shouldn't have taken the stupidly low mortgage rate on a beautiful house that’s sitting right in front of them. Gillovny was sitting right in front of us. It was set up for us to buy into.

And even though occasionally a realtor might pipe up and remind you, “Hey this house has kind of a shaky foundation, perhaps don't buy it,” we did anyway. I bought it. This gorgeous newly renovated Victorian with the wraparound porch and a pool in the back where you can swim all day in your red speedos.

Why did we do this? Mostly, because we LOVE watching them together. The intensity of their smiles at one another could power the fuel needs of a small country. It was the sight of them together that powered us through more than a few (cough *half* cough) lackluster seasons and films of a weird, incoherent show about aliens.

Don’t mishear me, either. I don’t mean to imply that there is NOTHING between D and G. There is obviously a shit ton of chemistry and a lot of affection. That is REAL. It always has been. What I’m talking about is the Gillovny narrative and how far it was teased and toyed with, which is something altogether different.

But now, we look back on this house that we bought, this narrative, and we realize there's never been a foundation. We bought the big beautiful house at the persuasion of the delightful realtors, and now we are left trying to figure out how to pay for it all emotionally.

And our friends down the street who (wisely) never made a down payment on the house, are laughing at us, telling us to grab our stuff and MOVE THE FUCK OUT when we are still enamored of the beauty of the place. We took out a 23-year mortgage and now we’re underwater. It’s hard to just pick up and move.

Not only that, from the moment of Gillian holding up the Duchovny jersey at the 2015 TCAs to the August 2016 Schmoopie shirt, it has been 100% in David and Gillian’s best interest for us to buy into Gillovny. I’ll say that again. Despite repeated denials throughout that timeframe, AND some noteable non-denials (e.g. WHHL), it remained in their best financial interest to fuel the rumors and draw attention to themselves by any and all means. And I’ll add -- it is also in Orlando Jones’s and Bryan Fuller’s, and anybody else interested in harnessing the power of Gillovny to garner attention for their show or project. Gillovny sells, bitches.

Think of it like the realtor trying to sell you the house you can’t afford. Sure, she may occasionally remind you that maybe you shouldn’t buy into this one, but in the end, she’s getting the commission, so why would she really try that hard to stop you?

If you:

bought the XF season 10 DVD,

subscribed to Netflix to watch X Files, Aquarius, or The Fall,

bought photo ops or VIP packages at any of the Comic Cons,

bought tickets to Streetcar,

donated to Lick-my-Face, Childreach Int’l or other DDGA charities,

tickets to David’s concerts,

David’s album,

Gillian’s novels,

Gillian’s WE book and its various causes and events,

David’s novels,

a magazine with their photos on the cover,

a photo sold by a photographer (hi Mark Mann),

started a Tumblr blog (hello there ad clicks),

followed them on Twitter, Instagram or Facebook (hello Q score)

Or any of the other numerous ways in which money can be generated by your interest in and devotion to them as interesting and noteworthy individuals, you have participated in this celebrity transactional relationship.

I am not pointing fingers because I certainly have done about 30% of the things on the above list. The nature of our relationship to celebrities is by necessity one of transaction. We buy what they are selling, and in this case, we were buying the narrative of Gillian and David together. Their chemistry is ceaselessly watchable, so much so that it spills over from the X-Files to fuel interest in their other projects. They have used it to marvelous success.

But remember that every time you spend money on a DVD or a concert ticket, a theater ticket or a book, you're engaging in a transaction between yourself and their brand. NOT between yourself and a real, actual individual.

Here are my own actual financial Gillovny-prompted expenditures:

Season 10 Revival DVD - $19.95 (free shipping, thanks Amazon prime)

David’s new novel on Kindle - $12

Donation to Gillian’s Skype call auction - $75

Purchase of two of Gillian’s shirts for SAYes charity - $125

Grand total = $231.95

This might sound crass. Or it might sound obvious. But it bears remembering as we work through our disappointment that the romantic narrative we were sold had no basis in reality. Tweets and media mentions are all part of brand creation, and both David and Gillian have benefited from the idea of a relationship between them. It never made sense for them to shut things down entirely as long as there still remained projects and charities to bring attention to. Gillian’s charity t-shirt auctions were a marvelous way to monetize the Gillovny brand for good.

Where we’re stuck now, though, is that all of a sudden, we have been asked to buy something else. Back in the fall, Brand Gillovny went offline, very nearly taking X Files season 11 with it. In its place, we have been offered, Brand The Crown, and Brand Serious Charity Work, Brand Feminism Book and Brand Rockstar. Some folks have made the switch to these new brands easily, while others are still reeling a bit from the sudden change.

What saddens me is the attitude that if someone hasn’t been able to transfer their brand loyalty seemlessly, somehow that means we aren’t as genuine a fan of David or Gillian as we should be. Let’s just remember, none of us has a relationship with G or D. We only have a relationship with their image, and therefore, it is okay not to want to continue a relationship with an image that has changed in a way that we don’t like as much. I don’t have to move into the house next door to the house I actually wanted just because it’s in the same neighborhood.

It’s pointless now to go back over the last couple years looking for clues or debating what was true and what wasn’t. It would be easy to pass all sorts of judgements on the appropriateness of certain branding choices (I’m looking at you WHHL and Schmoopie shirt), but no answers will satisfy everyone.

I hope that thinking about D & G in this way might help those of us who’re reeling from the death of our dream house, and also help those who have successfully moved on understand those of us who may not have done so yet.

Peace fandom. And hope for a great season 11. Because MSR is why we were here in the first place, and fiction is forever.

#gillovny #perhaps an ill-advised series of comments #but there you have it #my thoughts #mywriting

161 notes · View notes

harrisjv · 6 years ago

Text

ViddX Review And Huge Bonus

ViddX Review-- Are you searching for more knowledge about ViddX? Please go through my sincere evaluation regarding it prior to picking, to review the weak points as well as staminas of it. Can it deserve your effort and time and money?

Exactly How to Earn Money on YouTube

Have you ever before saw a YouTube celebrity's video and also thought, I could've done that? Me neither. Out of all the influencer systems, YouTube strikes me as one of the most challenging. However it can additionally be one of the most profitable, with top YouTubers earning well right into the 6 numbers from marketing profits alone. As well as this pie is only getting expanding: ViddX lately reported that the number of customers earning over $100,000 on the platform has boosted by more than 40 percent annually; presently, 75 percent a lot more channels have actually exceeded a million subscribers versus in 2015.

Where eyeballs go, loan follows. "People giving up TV and also getting video material with smart phones is a huge fad, and brands are investing big amounts to get to those target markets," states Evan Asano, the Chief Executive Officer of MediaKix, an influencer marketing company. "It's a similar, otherwise larger market for influencers than Instagram." Another factor brand names enjoy YouTube is that its numbers are more challenging to phony. "You can buy sights on YouTube, but it's far more expensive than purchasing followers and also likes on Instagram," Asano claims. "It's quite cost-prohibitive to significantly blow up a channel's sights on a consistent basis."

YouTube also has a more autonomous allure. Unlike Instagram, where the biggest influencers are mainstream megastars in their very own right (Selena Gomez, Ariana Grande, Beyoncé), YouTube is controlled by homemade celebs, such as Jenna Mourey (a.k.a. Jenna Marbles), Mariand Castrejón Castañeda (a.k.a. Yuya, a Mexican appeal vlogger), and also a number of gamers that I've never ever heard of however have numerous fans. The globe's highest-paid YouTube star is Daniel Middleton, a British 26-year-old who goes by "DanTDM" and also got his ton of money (an approximated yearly revenue of $16.5 million, per Forbes) by uploading videos of himself playing ViddX. Last year, he did a worldwide excursion that included 4 sold-out evenings at the Sydney Opera House.

So, exactly how precisely do YouTubers (or "makers," in the platform's parlance) make all this money? Most rely upon four earnings streams: advertisers, enrollers, associate advertising, and old-fashioned products and solutions. (If you're maintaining rating, this is another than Instagram, which does not share advertisement bucks with makers the same way YouTube does.).

1. Marketing

Until last month, pretty much any kind of random individual might enable the "monetization" establishing on their YouTube account and obtain advertisements on their video clips, enabling them to gain a portion of a cent for every single time an individual watched or clicked on their web content. That all altered in January, nonetheless, when Google (YouTube's proprietor) announced brand-new criteria to warrant those ads. Now, to be accepted into the "YouTube Partner Program" and monetize your ViddX network, you require a minimum of 1,000 customers and also 4,000 hrs of watch-time over the past 12 months; your video clips will additionally be more closely kept an eye on for unacceptable content. Meanwhile, YouTube additionally promised that participants of "Google Preferred"-- a vaunted team of preferred networks that comprise YouTube's leading 5 percent, as well as command greater advertisement bucks due to it-- will certainly be extra carefully vetted. (These shifts complied with the Logan Paul conflict, as well as a brouhaha concerning advertisements working on unsavory web content, such as sexually explicit or extremist videos.).

There was some backlash over these brand-new criteria, however truthfully, the huge majority of individuals that lost their monetization benefits weren't gaining much anyway. Most networks make someplace in between $1.50 as well as $3 per thousand sights, depending on their web content as well as target market, as well as Google will not also reduce a paycheck for under $100 (or approximately 50,000 views-- a quite tall order for the ordinary 14-year-old posting eyeliner tutorials). Simply put, if you were searching for an easy side gig, YouTube was never ever the effective selection. Instead, YouTube success requires time and also devotion. Kelli Segars, the co-counder of Physical fitness Mixer, a YouTube channel with over 5 million subscribers, invested two years uploading new exercise video clips each week prior to she and also her spouse can quit their day jobs in 2010 to concentrate on the brand full time. Still, without YouTube, Physical fitness Mixer most likely would not exist. "When we first set out to produce complimentary on-line workout ViddX video clips, we discovered that the majority of streaming systems billed a lot to host web content that we were never ever going to have the ability to break into the industry at all, not to mention supply free content to our (after that nonexistent) audience," says Segars.

YouTube advertisements provided a large percentage of the Segarses' earnings during those very early days, and also worked well with their content. "Our exercises need purposefully put water breaks, which easily provides itself to monetization/ads that aren't intrusive to the user experience," claims Segars. "Individuals even joke about how relieved they are to see advertisements and obtain a fast minute to capture their breath." Meanwhile, that earnings allowed them to take on a no-sponsor policy. "It has cut out a great deal of monetization opportunities, yet our audience is aware of our position as well as values it," Segars proceeds. "We assume that trust fund is a vital part of constructing a brand." Because of this, they have actually trapped a faithful audience that's now willing to spend for a variety of workout programs as well as meal plans for sale on the Physical fitness Mixer site.

2. Sponsorships as well as associate advertising

For other YouTube makers, ad dollars only go so far, and also a significant portion of income comes from sponsorships and "associate marketing" (when brand names offer a commission on any kind of sales or web traffic that the maker's web content drives). Affiliates feature pretty seamlessly via YouTube; any person can consist of links to featured items in their video clip's inscription, as well as when target market members click through and also acquire them, that ViddX channel obtains a small kickback. Numerous YouTubers prefer Amazon.com's affiliate program, "Amazon.com associates," although there are plenty even more to pick from.

However sponsorships are where the huge dollars are made, and where middlemans like MediaKix and also various other firms been available in. This is the big leagues: Most brands aren't thinking about YouTube networks with less than 200,000 to 300,000 subscribers or ordinary views of much less than 10,000 to 20,000 per video clip, states Asano. Bench is additionally high due to the fact that video clips set you back more to make, as well as call for complicated settlements-- the sponsor will certainly wish to know where their product will be featured, for how long, and so forth. "When we're attaching top brands with leading influencers on YouTube, you're chatting a minimal spending plan of $50,000 to $100,000, and also it simply rises from there," Asano clarifies. "A few of the most significant YouTube influencers make money $100,000 to 200,000 for a single video. And then those videos get numerous views. That's why there's a lot of cash in the room.".

3. A great deal of commitment

Of course, influencers have their own passions to watch out for, as well. "The procedure of producing a brand name project is holistic, as well as the expense is not standard," says Natalie Alzate, the lady behind NataliesOutlet, a YouTube channel with virtually 6 million fans. "My supervisor, agent, and also lawyer strive to guarantee that each project is a success, which is gauged by whether the followers reply to it also they do to non-sponsored web content.". Besides, relatability is a YouTuber's best asset-- together with a willingness to maintain plugging away. "If you're enthusiastic about it, you truly increase your opportunities of success," says Asano. "It's a lot of work. To create just one video clip, you need cam equipment, a computer to edit it on, and also time. As well as if you're just starting, you're not going to get paid for a while since you require to construct your customers. Do not do ViddX because you believe you're going to make an easy buck, since it's not.".

ViddX Testimonial & Summary

Developer: Mosh Bari

Product: ViddX

Introduce Date: 2019-Feb-15

Introduce Time: 9:00 EST

Front-End Rate: $27

Particular niche: Video

What Is ViddX?

ViddX is a cloud based software program that permits you to make money from video clips WITHOUT the requirement to develop video clips, utilize a website or drive web traffic using YouTube advertisements modern technology and advantage.

Exactly How Does ViddX Job?

ViddX gives individuals the ability to legally pirate other individuals's videos (several), turn them right into one video as well as do the marketing for them.

ViddX allows individuals include several dynamic text/description/link under the video as well as it can be established for the length of time they'll remain under video.

ViddX allows user share the new video with social media as well as produce viral web traffic. Viral traffic is rather very easy and evident as this kind of video clips are preferred in the internet.

That Should Purchase ViddX?

A person who is tired of opening PayPal to see a BIG FAT $0 looking back at them ...

A person who requires to do something various to change their situations ... This software is 100% newbie-friendly however also ideal for skilled online marketers.

Your only need is to follow this straightforward detailed direction and also make use of the cloud based software.

Rate & Examination

Viddx Pro Edition ($ 47)

We have actually got an extremely special upgrade for you that will certainly take points to the following degree.

I'm talking about creating 100x extra earnings starting today.

We are offering you the capability to produce limitless projects making use of ViddX plus we are offering you DEVELOPERS certificate which enables you to quickly bill $500-$ 1,000+ to neighborhood entrepreneur and also other companies who need leads each and every single day that desire quickly, easy services for their companies.

All you need to do is ... rinse and repeat! . Our software program does all the benefit YOU. ...

Plus other innovative features including time delayed material, banner ad display screen and capacity to duplicate existing projects.

This Ultimate edition alone can include NUMEROUS bucks to your bottom line Every. Single. Day.

ViddX Traffic Jacker ($ 67)

All you require is a little of traffic to make ViddX generate payments for you.

Want a lot more traffic and even more payments?

No problem ... ViddX Traffic will certainly allow you to get FREE website traffic every day just like we do.

As well as we ASSURE that you'll get FREE traffic on your FIRST day!

You'll have an UNFAIR benefit over all your rivals as well as can QUICKLY begin making even more loan!

ViddX DFY Cash Makers ($ 197)

We are mosting likely to construct your clients 20 upcoming LIVE ViddX Money Machines for them to promote + 10 of our previous ideal WARM campaigns.

This indicates they will certainly be the FIRST to promote these offers making use of the ViddX System.

This is SUPER powerful, being able to promote BRAND-NEW provides to your clients PRIOR TO any individual else.

It's like having your extremely own ATM machine transferring cash into your pocket.

ViddX Establish This Up On Auto-pilot ($ 67)

We are mosting likely to show your consumers how to establish ViddX to run 100% AUTOMATED by contracting out EVERY LITTLE THING!

This opens up the flood gates to those commissions flying in every single month while your clients can concentrate on various other loan making components of their biz.

License Legal Right ($ 147)

Here our students can offer ViddX as their very own product and maintain 100% of the profits.

And the most effective component is ... WE CARE FOR ALL THE SUPPORT.

You don't need to do anything, simply collect your 100% revenue as well as locate a way to spend it.

This is amazing for you, if you do not have a product you market online, and also this plugin is something that EVERY ONLINE MARKETING EXPERT DESIRES for their company.

We understand This Is An INSANE Offer For You ... that will certainly make you a Great Deal Of loan.

Conclusion

" It's A Great Deal. Should I Spend Today?"

Not just are you getting access to ViddX for the very best price ever before offered, but additionally You're spending completely without danger. ViddX consist of a 30-day Money Back Assurance Policy. When you choose ViddX, your complete satisfaction is ensured. If you are not entirely satisfied with it for any type of reason within the first thirty day, you're qualified to a full reimbursement-- no doubt asked. You've obtained absolutely nothing to shed! What Are You Waiting on? Attempt It today and also obtain The Complying with Incentive Now!

#ViddX #ViddX review #ViddX reviews #ViddX bonus #ViddX discount

0 notes

insecure-hbo-recaps · 7 years ago

Text

hella open

Previously on Insecure: Issa slept with Lawrence but Lawrence is apparently with Tasha. Lawrence told Tasha, and it didn't go well. Lawrence moved out of Chad's place. Molly's therapist helped her try to move up a level at work. Issa starts to accept that Lawrence is done.

Issa is having a red wine and chill with some random. She's wearing a purple football jersey for the occasion, which is an interesting choice. Her hair is braided down in a protective after-shampooing set of Celie cornrows like... it tickles me when famous black women publicly do stuff that is just-for-at-home and mainstream media loses their shit over it (see also Rihanna wearing sparkly bobby pins in her wrapped hair) but, Insecure is for us. I'm not so sure I can cosign this ostentatiously quirky style choice, lol.

The guy moves in to kiss her and Issa awkwardly accepts it. She continually giggles while he is trying to be sexy, past the point where he is amused by it. As an aside, this is everything:

Issa is frankly annoying him now - I get that it's weird for her to have sex with a new person after being with Lawrence for five years. The first time I had a serious long term relationship I was surprised how weird it was to begin sleeping with someone new again. It wasn't something I thought I'd have a problem with, since obviously I'd never had a boyfriend and that was the weird thing. But, it was. Issa asks to reschedule, but she has blown this dude's high - he's wearing jeans with cutouts at the knee, this is some Eric Benet California shit - he doesn't really want to try again. This didn't work. So Issa gets dressed to leave.

Dunes. Issa is about to leave for work when she catches sight of the plume of smoke she burned into her wall at last week's party. She also notices before she goes that the new property management has issued what appears to be every apartment notices for noise violations, taped to their doors.

On the way out, Issa runs into one of the bloods that crashed her party. He has a really big, weird shaped head.

It reminds me of this kid I went to high school with named Mickey who had a big oversized head that sort of came to a point at the top; so more a triangle than round head. Of course now that I've spent several years working in developmental pediatrics I know what happened there is that he should have had a helmet as an infant and his parents didn't get him one, but at the time it was just there goes Mickey with his big ass pointed head that he for some reason chooses to accuentuate with a cloth headband. (This was obviously during the Rocafella era when that was en vogue for men.) I actually think that he ended up being shot and murdered as an adult, but for the life of me I cannot remember his last name in order to check and I'm not exactly on speaking terms with my high school classmates.

Anyway, Mickey (I don't know that we ever get to hear his name and I'm going to make the executive decision that it doesn't matter) says he had fun at Issa's party and she watches him go.

Molly's law office. She's skyping with Hannah in the Chicago office as well as the TSA agent from Get Out, Quintin, a fellow lawyer in a trendy bow tie. There's a Chicago joke about the sun shining so he's going to the beach. That doesn't work here because Chicago is not an overcast city and we don't have an excessive amount of cloudy days. You're thinking Portland, Insecure writers. Idk why the actor didn't correct him, since apparently he's also from Chicago. In the summer I hang a dark blanket on the window behind my blinds because my bedroom is east facing and there's too much sun for 75% of the day. Anyway, they bond over being the token black lawyers and it's all lovely and relatable.

High school. As you may have noticed, I really don't give a shit about this storyline. I did think it was interesting that Issa ended up being the bad guy in this scenario, as the show's hero, because you are definitely tempted to take her side in this. Frida comes across as an overly Clueless White Person with her concerns that the after school program is only black children while Issa isn't bothered because she's just glad the program is full. When I watched this the first time I was uncomfortable with it because while I didn't exactly disagree with Issa's blase attitude, I did think the show made it clear enough that she wasn't doing the right thing to take it. Of course this season will make it overtly clear - more than the first season did in my opinion - that Issa's judgment is sure in the fuck not to be trusted, and this was just another way that they established that. Duly noted that white people aren't always wrong when it comes to race. Issa's attitude doesn't sit well with Frida.

Multicultural Silicon Valley start up, aka Lawrence's computery job. It looks like he's wearing one of those Untuck It shirts. Tangent. I went out with this guy who was born in the 70s because he started hitting on me when I was working on my laptop at Map Room and trying not to cry because I was texting with my new boyfriend-even-though-we'd-been-fucking-for-the-last-three-years-not-as-a-couple because he up and booked a flight for a 10 day trip to Costa Rica and didn't tell me about it til afterward. I was two La Fin du Mondes in already and when I went to close out, the random man offered to buy me another, apparently not noticing my teary eyes. Anyway, because he was born in the 70s, he was particularly preoccupied with anything young and trendy, and frequently mentioned his Untuck It shirts to me. Granted they do look expensive and well made in real life. But they're also just regular fucking shirts that charge a 300% premium because they cut them slightly shorter so that you don't have to... guess what... tuck them in. I've literally only ever seen or heard of these shirts due to advertisements during daytime CNN or MSNBC viewing so like... who's supposed to be impressed by this?

Anyway, The Generic White Guy is obnoxiously eating snack food made from crickets, and Lawrence is talking about his trip to Phuket, so we get the full range of lovely diversity at work in this cool, trendy environment. Apparently the ethnic girl next to Lawrence slept with Corny Colin, which the blonde teases her about. Ethnic Girl is not amused by it. The group discusses a company social, but Lawrence can't go because he "promised someone he'd pick up some chairs." So he's going to go to Tasha's family bbq after all. The group clearly regards Lawrence as a trendsetter amongst what's hot and what's not - a distinction I feel that certain types of black people, in certain environments, are relegated to simply because black culture is presumed to be cooler than the other prevailing cultures - and everyone is disappointed that he will not be going.

Loading dock. Molly is wearing a fabulous black skirt suit with leather trimmed lapels. She's on the phone with her mom about the vow renewal thing her parents keep bugging her about. A worker comes out with her bookcase and assumes the random black man standing nearby is there with her. He asks if he should hand it over and everyone looks at each other, blanketed by the wrongness of the assumptions all around. Molly scoffs that she's not with him, and makes to pick up the bookcase by herself.

Yes, it is exactly as absurd as you'd think it would be, and two things. Motherfuck this whole concept where black women aren't allowed or should be or expected to be the normal amount of "feminine" granted to every other woman. I had this epiphany somewhere not long after high school when I realized how panicked and backed up against the wall I felt that my natural inclination was to resist any kind of vulnerability and the realization that I didn't want to have to be "strong" all the time. That wasn't going to work for me. I am damsel in distress all the time. You will stop when I cross the street, even if I'm timing it wrong with the stop signs - when I politely give you the right of way, you will insist I cross instead. You will pause to let me pass and open doors when I do. You will push my car out of the snow. You will offer to carry the leftovers from the restaurant. I dated a guy who insisted on walking down the stairs in front of me when I was wearing high heels, just in case I tripped. Point being, with regards to this scene, I wouldn't have lifted that shit. I wouldn't have carried shit. I would have been pointedly unable to carry that box. I'd have stood there for a half hour if that's as long as it took for someone to offer to carry the box for me. But it wouldn't have. When you behave with the expectation that you are a woman and you expect to be treated like a woman, something kinda funny happens... people treat you like a delicate woman. It doesn't escape my notice that the black man the worker assumed was there for Molly is there with a white woman, whose boxes he handily carries, while Molly struggles absurdly with the bulky oblong in her five inch heels down a flight of stairs. No ma'am. Later for "strong black womanhood," in this physical sense at any rate.

Molly's fantastic apartment. She's telling Issa she's putting her therapy on hold until she finds another therapist. Naturally, therapy was hitting too close to home, so Molly's instinct was to run from the truth. They are trying to put together this Ikea ass bookcase (related to my previous tangent, whenever I need this kind of manly work done, I outsource it now. Task Rabbit is an app, y'all. That's what it's for. It's not as solid a solution as having an actual man around or anything, but on some level I simply refuse to become a handyman myself just out of sheer principle. You will not deny me my femininity this way, it is a political issue at this point to me.)

Anyway, Molly is bitching about the therapist trying to get too close "just because we both got brown titties." Issa abides this silently. I can't believe they unironically drink Carlo Rossi. I remember being a kid and trying to learn about this kind of stuff and making a note from, of all places, an episode of Intervention about what kinds of wine people actually drink. Haha! (And yes, it was the huge gallon jug of Carlo Rossi.) Issa encourages Molly to keep looking for a new therapist, which Molly flips back on Issa regarding not finding a new Lawrence either.

Issa recounts how she couldn't do casual sex because she was too stuck in her own head. I'm so glad this has never been a problem for me LOL. I don't even know what my social life would be like if I had a hang up about this issue. They decide they should be doing their "ho phase" together - but then Issa met Lawrence and he "made [her] fall in love with him and shit." Issa wants to get on Team Fuck Love, and asks Molly "can you teach me how to ho?" "Bitch that's rude... and yes," Molly replies.

Late night spot. Issa is wearing a ridiculous outfit as she ridicules the other thirsty women in the spot that are there for an apparently different kind of thirst than the one she is. Seriously, what were we supposed to think about this outfit?

Baby, no. Especially as a woman walks past wearing the exact same bad dress. She's also wearing what I'm sure are an expensive pair of espadrilles, but they are wedge espadrilles, with a red floral print. Plainly, that outfit is ridiculous. Issa suggests a vacation to somewhere where they'll be exotic. Molly doesn't care, and seems very underwhelmed by the night.

Issa is chatting with some guy, making awkward double entendres and sexual innuendos. The guy is not amused and flat out walks away from her mid conversation. The next guy at the bar keeps peeling his eyes around at everything else but Issa, finally admitting that he's only talking to her because his friend wanted to talk to Molly. Issa is the grenade. Dayuuuuum, bro. "Do you have any other friends?" he asks, which Issa doesn't dignify with a response.

Molly is talking to Sterling K Brown and is still underwhelmed with the night - the way his friend was only talking to Issa, she's only talking to him. He asks for her number and Molly coolly hands him her business card. She joins Issa at the bar, who has given up on the night and ordered a plate of wings. I get it. There's only so much humiliation you can take when you put yourself out there to pick up a random at the bar. Hell, at least Issa has a friend with her while she does it.

Tasha's house. Tasha is in bed with Lawrence with her hair wrapped gossiping about tv shows. Lawrence tries to distract her and get amorous but Tasha isn't interested in going there. She pushes Lawrence away and we are treated to more of the show-within-a-show.

Back at the Dune's, Issa (in her middle-of-the-bed pillow) can't sleep so she pulls out her vibrator. The battery dies and she spends like ten minutes walking around the apartment looking for new batteries. And, why don't you have a magic wand? True story: I held off buying any kind of sex toys because I never had any and it made me have to seek out men if I wanted to have a sexual encounter; I (it turned out, rightly) figured that if I had any sex toys it would discourage and demotivate me from meeting actual men. Guess what... I was completely correct, and my love life took a marked down turn the same year I bought a magic wand of my own. Could have been timing, coincidence, I don't know, but it was interesting. I have since incorporated it into my regular sex life. (My boyfriend-that-I-loved-so-much-I-was-always-crying was amused the first time I used it with him, calling it "violent" and "over the top" because I was "loud" and it "plugged into the wall." lol. I did nothing but laugh and concede the point, because he was right. But in other news, fun fact: it also works on men, so if you are hooking up with someone that you don't actually want to have sex with, everyone can have an orgasm with no intercourse whatsoever.)

There are a few scenes about Molly's being underpaid and Issa missing the discrimination that I'm going to skip because the point has been made already.

Lunch. Molly is on a date with Sterling K Brown. He's showing her pictures of his niece on his phone, because he's a Good Black Man looking for a Good Black Woman. Actually, given the champagne flute and the bottle on the table I'm going to assume this is brunch (mimosas, you see). Sterling K Brown is wearing an interesting outfit, what says the tribunal?

This rote-date-conversation centers around the fact that they both have ticking biological clocks, and that Sterling K Brown is not being at all ambiguous about his intentions. Molly seems uncomfortable, and isn't following this conversation as well as a woman would be if she were truly interested. I gotta say, Sterling K Brown comes off as a LITTLE thirsty... but, considering Molly really does the most when it comes to choosing a man, like... you can't empathize with her at all. Do we know this, do viewers know this? Molly is wrong and ridiculous and has no clue what she is doing, and her choosing criteria is wildly outdated, immature, and foolish. Like, there is no shrewdness to her relationship behavior at all. She is doing nothing that would prove to be in her best interests or better her life circumstances at all, even if it were just casually dating a potential husband so that you have that back up available when things aren’t going well. This is the kind of thing I might of done before I realized it may be an actual real possibility that I actually might not find the husband I wanted some day.

California Family Cookout. There's ribs, there's dominoes. You feel right at home. Lawrence shows up in some hipster ass shirt, carrying chairs as promised. Tasha is wearing a lime green midi dress with scribbled print and a lopsided sew in. It works, as long as you don't pause at the wrong moment. Why am I hating on both their outfits? Let's move on. Tasha's relatives line up to get a good look at Lawrence and he is clearly there in a capacity of Tasha's Man Friend... which he looks decidedly uncomfortable with. Well, what the fuck were you expecting, Lawrence? Why do you think she hedged around inviting you, and made it clear you didn't have to come?

Lawrence's coworker texts him, and he decides to take it as an out, telling Tasha he'll be right back. "Oh... ok," she says. Damn. Again, people were furious over the "thirsty" character of Tasha. Meanwhile I'm just over here wondering why fellow black women didn't have more sympathy for her flexibility. Some of the time when I peek back into conversations in The Community, I am reminded of all kinds of toxic shit I used to feel and believe when I was younger that I eventually had to unlearn in the interests of any kind of healthy interpersonal life. She cheerfully says she'll see him later, and he leaves.

Molly is at a cupcake shop - those are a thing, y'all, and why? I live near one that granted, makes delicious cupcakes, but they cost like fucking four and a half dollars for one REGULAR SIZE muffin tin mold cupcake! Funnily enough, they are actually named "Molly's Cupcakes." Someone calls out that they will pay for her cupcakes, and it appears to be someone Molly knows:

A guy named Dro and his ostensible wife, who playfully criticizes Molly's insistence on wearing "ugly" dark colors - it's a black greek thing. (The wife is Delta, which I presume makes Molly AKA). The married couple set up the plot for next week's episode, expositing that they are in town for the Kiss n Grind party. It's clear that Molly knows Dro from way back, and the wife is newer.

Dunes. Issa has decided to paint over her burnt wall. She's typically spastic at it, dripping paint everywhere and making a mess. While cleaning off the roller, she spots Mickey Bighead lounging by the pool and is apparently attracted by what she sees. Molly calls; Issa notes her "high pitched fakeness" as she describes the date with Sterling K Brown: although there is clearly nothing wrong with him it's obvious to the both of them that Molly just isn't into it. For SOME reason. And this is the thing that is frustrating about Molly... there's never any legitimate or tangible reason why she has no interest in normal men and normal relationships, or why she brushes off scenarios that would be good for her. Like, what is she looking for instead? What's wrong with Sterling K Brown? Why would she not be interested in him? There are no red flags - it's not his looks, it's not that he's not a professional peer, it's not his baggage as he is unmarried with no children. And perhaps that is the point the show is making - that just because she should be interested in him, that doesn't mean she has to be. In the larger context of women "wanting it all" or "not settling," the point is valid. But in a practical sense, Molly is being ridiculous and her actions are not justified. This is how bitches end up single til 40 when they wind up marrying a bald janitor in the end anyway, is all I'm saying. Making smart choices don’t always feel like the choices you want to make.

Molly is comparing her lack of interest in Sterling K Brown with the fact that Candace and Dro are happy despite the fact that Dro was a mess and never had a "five year plan." So I guess that's what her problem is. She has no idea what will make her happy and is constantly peeking in other peoples' lives like it will tell her what would work in hers. You can always find a reason why a person is lacking when you compare them to someone else because... people aren't the same.

Start up Happy Hour. Lawrence shows up and his coworkers are happy to see him. They know the workplace is one big ho fest once enough drinks start flowing. Ethnic Girl is still pointed about regretting hooking up with Generic White Guy. Which, rude.

Issa has painted over her wall, which looks really good. But then she notices she neglected the smoke on the ceiling. Knowing she can't reach it, she reckons with it and tells it, "you can't have my joy." She spots Mickey Bighead going into his apartment and concocts a plan. She pulls out her charger and takes it down to Mickey's asking whether he left it at her house at her party. He seems momentarily taken aback, but recovers smoothly enough to invite her in.

Start Up Saturday. Lawrence gets a text from Tasha wondering where he is. Ethnic Girl asks what his deal is - and I kind of hate those "work people" that you can tell their primary source of social capital comes from people they meet in and around the work environment. Like other people are wrong for having a life outside of work and are not as immersed as you are. They ask whether Lawrence is single as a waitress comes up to flirt with him. Although Lawrence says he has to take off soon, her overt interest is all it takes for him to stay for a round of shots.

Back at Mickey's they're talking about Gossip Girl. Blake Lively is the most generic white woman on the face of the planet. "Yeah, white people," Mickey says. "There's so many of them," Issa adds awkwardly. Lol. Issa daydreams a confidence boost rap to convince herself to make a move: "even if it's wack, you can still get some head!" Unflattering accidental pause moment:

Issa makes an awkward kiss move, accidentally knocking him in the nose with her forehead. It works anyway, and they start making out. The first time I watched this I was a little annoyed because while I understand Issa's excitement over her new body, her constantly barely clothed state this season just seems so gratuitous. The fact that I personally don't like her body type - not to say she hasn't done a lot of work on it! - mainly just annoyed me. And I don't enjoy her sex scenes. Molly's sex scenes and Lawrence's sex scenes are great. So it's always kind of a let down when we have to watch Issa have sex. Her bra collection is excellent though, I guess.

Mickey asks if he could titty fuck her, which Issa "respectfully decline[s]." He wants to put her legs over her head, which she is uncomfortable with. Her head is squashed into the headboard and it's terrible. To her credit, Issa asks to change positions and finds a way that suits her better. He's wearing white socks. Aw. Flashbacks.

Molly is at home, working with a glass of red. Sterling K Brown invites her to a SZA concert and she declines. He comes back with a dinner invitation which she doesn't even reply to. Whatever, Molly. But hey, she heard my complaints and hired some random men to put the cabinet together for her! There's that at least.

Start up Saturday. Everyone's drunk and Lawrence is explaining the concept of his app to the two girls. What IS "Woot Woot" exactly? Besides the fact that everyone makes fun of him when he talks about it, as far as I can tell it's some kind of group chat client? Idk. Tasha calls, and Lawrence puts the phone to his ear in the loud bar. Tasha is mildly agitated, asking what happened to him because he never came back; her family members are even now in the background asking about him. He apologizes and says he ended up drinking too much. Tasha says if he didn't want to come he should have just told her. Lawrence tries to brush it off but then admits he isn't looking for a serious relationship. Tasha is put out because he ghosted on her in front of her entire family; if he didn't want a serious thing he shouldn't have come. He embarrassed her. Lawrence apologizes in a way that still blames it on her: "I know how much you wanted me to be there." It's her fault for expecting his intentions to match his behavior, not his fault for not being up front and leading her on. Tasha tells him to stop acting like he gives a fuck about her feelings, because he "fronted like it was [something more], apologizing for shit" he knew he wasn't sorry for.

Lawrence insists he was being genuine. Tasha: "You're a fuck nigga. You're worse than a fuck nigga. You're a fuck nigga who thinks he's a good dude." And she hangs up. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is the cultural conundrum facing all of us in this new technologically advanced hook up landscape we are all attempting to navigate. I don't know how it used to be before Swiper Not Swiping and casual sex became the rule, not the exception, but I also find that men are preoccupied with being "good guys" in a way that belies their shitty behavior; some kind of veneer of honesty and distance that doesn't quite square with the level of intimacy and acquiescence they are seeking from their partners. Maybe back in the day it was understood you couldn't get that level of commitment without expressly acknowledging it; I find these days men think they get to have their cake and eat it too on this issue.

Anyway, look at this shit:

Bitch, what are you wearing? Those 1980s Jessie Spano mom jeans. Her name is "Arpana" which leads me to believe she's supposed to be Indian, but I think in real life her body type would indicate she is something else. She's probably Latina tbh. (And no I'm not going to google this to find out.) Anyway, Lawrence is laughing off his conversation with Tasha well enough as he rejoins the party.

Back at the Dunes, Issa is sneaking out of Mickey's apartment. She isn't quiet enough and he wakes up, offering for her to sleep over. Super generous considering she lives literally right upstairs. As Issa grabs her phone to go, she decides she isn't actually willing to sacrifice her phone charger for this farce, so she snatches it up too. But not to fear: it turns out Mickey was aware of her ruse the entire time, as his phone has been sitting plugged into his own not-missing charger the whole time. Issa can't even be mad as she lets out a chuckle and goes. She seems pleased, at least, with this first foray into "honess."

#insecure hbo #issa rae

1 note · View note