#like I’m totally outside all of this subject matter

[lilyblisslys]

question for other transfemmes, how do you feel listening to lesbian/wlw pop music? Thinking like Boy Genius, Hayley Kiyoko, Chappell Roan, etc.

other examples bc apparently not everyone is dating someone who loves sad softpop would be like, Scene Queen, Phoebe Bridgers, Lucy Dacus, uhh I think mitski is bi(?)

[coolshadowtwins]

SVSSS System Reveal Fic round up!

If you know one that hasn’t been recc’ed, then please put it in the comments/tags! I’ll add it to the post!

A Transmigrator and a Time Traveler Walk into the Bamboo House by VeryCharismaticDragon

Over a year after Shen Qingqiu's death, Luo Binghe consults his servant's servant, concurrently his disgraced martial uncle, for a way to bring the love of his life back. Shang Qinghua sends him in the direction of a certain time-traveling artifact, which supposedly brings one to the day they first met their soulmate.

Odd, though, that the artifact ends up missing the destination by just a few years…

A story in which post-Abyss Luo Binghe relives his disciple days, while juggling his secrets, traumas, and some unexpected revelations about the man he loves on top of that.

What is Seen by CaveteDracones

…is not [always] the real truth.

Truth-compelling artifacts in the hands of an enemy to one side, SYSTEM-mandated silence on the other, and Shen Qingqiu caught between the two. Is it too late to go back to the Water Prison? (NOTE: This one was recommended three times, and I have personally reread it multiple times. It’s one of my favorites and I really do want to read more fics in a similar vein lol)

open my lungs to let you in by ghostybreads

Shen Qingqiu had a secret. So, naturally, it was only a matter of time before he was hit by a truth serum wife plot.

//

“How are you?”

“Horny. Kind of want Binghe to rail me, I guess. But it’s manageable.”

Liu Qingge’s hand on his forehead froze, and he was close enough that Shen Qingqiu could hear his breathing stop. He stared back expressionlessly, the mortification distantly crawling up the back of his neck. Honest One-Horned–

The frustrated scream that he usually vented in his head, came out straight from mouth.

“aaAAAAAHHHH GODDAMNIT AIRPLANE–”

Futility in Practice by TGP

When Luo Binghe is fourteen years old, his shizun suffers a terrible qi deviation and fever that completely changes who he is.

and judgment is just like a cup that we share by Kieron_ODuibhir

The blob finished rotating into place in a way that wasn’t quite compatible with geometry as Shen Qingqiu understood it, and cleared a throat it didn’t seem to have.

“Greetings,” it said, somehow clearly addressing him in particular more than the room as a whole despite its total lack of features other than blueness and translucency. “I’m here on behalf of the Hyper-Celestial Peace and Order Enforcement Bureau. Crime scene secure, proceeding to interviews. Beginning with Subject One: You are Shen Qingqiu, formerly Shen Yuan, also known as Peerless Cucumber?”

First, do no harm by Terias

Shen Qingqiu has been acting especially erratic since awakening from his three day coma after a severe qi deviation.

Mu Qingfang investigates and discovers a great many things about his new shixiong. (NOTE: This one has Shen Yuan and Shen Jiu as the same soul, technically, but it still works I think!)

Show The Screenshots by A_Non_ymousWriter

When a rogue foreign System sends out a subtle virus, some outsiders are shown chat messages between a certain two transmigrators and their Systems.

AirplaneBro: nah dude shen jiu would never lay a hand on his female disciples like that, hes gay

Liu Qingge tripped on thin air while Mu Qingfang choked on his tea as Shang Qinghua (their god? creator??) casually shattered their view of their original Shen Qingiu. The fake Shen Qingqiu at least, was sharing their shock.

CucumberBro: EXCUSE ME WHAT??

CucumberBro: The fuck he is?!?! He literally GOES TO BROTHELS! LIU QINGGE FOUND HIM IN BED WITH A WOMAN THAT ONE TIME?

AirplaneBro: aight bro buckle the fuck up cuz imma take u on a joyride all about shen jiu >:)

—————-

Binghes#1Fan: I don't want to send Binghe into the Abyss...

System 2: User must comply, if User cannot do the task User will be punished and the account will be terminated.

Mobeis #1Fan: sorry bro unless ur okay w being ded af u gotta push binghe into the abyss

Ning Yingying's fists clenched. Okay, so trying to get Yuan-ge and A-Luo together would be harder than she thought.

[lavendertales]

Hii! So I'm here to make a request, you can totally ignore this if you don't like it, I just really like your writing and wanted to pass this idea to you ♡

It's a angsty with happy ending story, hope you like it ♡

So the idea is that Joel and reader (established relationship) are kinda new in Jackson, but Joel being Joel is not very used to being there yet, so he doesn't tell anybody that he is in a relationship with reader bc he is scared that they think he is weak or smth, and totally ignores her outside of their home, so reader obviously feels insecure, but our lovely Joel makes her feel better at the end of the day.

thank you, love!! hope you enjoy this❤️

new territory—Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: 1k

You went into this situation with Joel without having any sort of expectations. In an outbreak, there aren’t many expectations to be had. So you simply settled for the comfort of another human being.

It grew by accident, really; tentatively, till you were both overwhelmed by the need to be close to each other, and eventually, it became some sort of mutual understanding that Joel was your protector. And, whenever you could, you protected him, too.

By not breaking his already fragile heart.

You took care of each other and looked after each other, and some nights you sought solace in each other’s arms, your bodies tangled in a fit of ecstasy. Sometimes it was something primal, rough and fast, other times it was impossibly languid and caring.

Upon your arrival in Jackson, the little town Joel’s younger brother Tommy put together, things were the same between the two of you.

Until they weren’t.

The moment Joel stepped outside the door, you became a stranger. You were surprised by the shift in behavior, to say the least. Whenever you tried to approach the subject in private, Joel either shut down or distracted you. You began to think maybe it was all in your head, or perhaps a matter which had nothing to do with you.

But when you were at the bar one evening, grabbing a drink with Tommy and his wife, Maria, you became certain that Joel was purposefully being cold towards you. Barely any eye contact, no touch of any sort, laser-focused on whatever Maria was saying to the group.

Your heart sank in your chest. While there weren’t any definitions to be given to whatever resided between you and Joel, you still liked to think that there was mutual respect and care involved, certain feelings—although not voiced yet.

“I think I’ll call it a night,” you announced, standing up.

Joel’s eyes shot to you, surprised by your reaction.

“Are you sure?” Maria checked with you. “It’s still quite early.”

“I’m sure. I’m a bit exhausted. Thank you for the drinks. See you tomorrow.”

“See ya tomorrow,” Tommy wished you.

You didn’t glance at Joel; you just wanted to get home, curl under the blanket and stay there. How foolish of you… perhaps he meant more to you than you did to him. Perhaps this was all in your head indeed, and you assigned more meaning to the situation. And now you were rushing to get to the so-called home, the one you shared with Joel and Ellie. It seemed the suffering was never-ending.

You heard your name called out in the background, but you dismissed it. You felt your eyes stung with tears, and you only hoped no one would remark your distress. You were at least thankful no one could see or hear the way your heart ached, practically wept, at the realization that you had gotten too emotionally attached to Joel when all he did was simply find relief.

“Stop, please,” Joel called to you.

“I just wanna go home, Joel.”

“Let me explain.”

You stopped in the middle of the road, turning around slowly. Joel was almost out of breath, his face red and riddled with regret at the same time. Worst of all, it hurt him to see you this disappointed and angry.

“Explain what? Why you’re ashamed of me? Or ashamed of being seen with me?”

“I’m not ashamed of—“

“You won’t even look at me, you won’t touch me unless we’re locked inside the house. You can see why I might think you’re ashamed to be with me.”

“I am not ashamed to be with you.”

“Then what is it?! Because I’m sitting there, watching Tommy stare at Maria like she’s the only thing in the world for him and I just… it hurts, Joel. It hurts to know that I care more than you do.”

“I care about you. A lot.”

He was standing far too close to you, reaching for your hands to take in his as your vision gets blurrier due to the tears.

“I never asked you anything, I didn’t ask you or even expect you to feel anything for me, but I just wish this wasn’t all in vain or some cheap thrill.”

“Listen to me. I’m—I’m sorry if you felt like I could ever be ashamed of you, or us. I’m not. I just…”

He took a deep breath, contemplating, gathering his thoughts.

“I only acted that way because I felt uncomfortable with all the people starin’ at ‘Tommy’s big brother and his girl. I don’t like ‘em staring. I thought if I kept some distance, they wouldn’t annoy you with questions or stares or jokes.”

You frowned. “Why would they joke or have questions?”

“Tommy has a good reputation ‘round here. Me, on the other hand… I’m sort of the black sheep. People got a lot to say. I didn’t want you in the middle of it.”

You caressed his hands into yours, oddly touched by the confession.

“I don’t think you’re the black sheep,” you told him. “I think you’re a great man who’s been through hell and back.”

“I did horrible things. Things you don’t know about. Killed people.”

“We all did terrible things to survive.”

You were grazing his cheek with the palm of your hand, and were surprised to see Joel close his eyes at the touch, leaning into it.

“But caring for someone doesn’t make you weak, if that’s what you’re worried about. I thought you learned that lesson with Ellie.”

Joel gulped, nodding solemnly. You suppressed a fond chuckle.

“I really am sorry,” he muttered.

“Next time you just talk to me. You know I’m here for you if you let me.”

“I do, I know.”

Then your lips stretched into a smile. “So… I’m your girl?”

Joel shook his head nervously, a grin on his face.

“I could make it up to my girl if she’d let me,” he teased.

“I think she’d like that.”

[mamawasatesttube]

ONE MORE SNIPPET of ch3 to motivate myself to keep going... unedited and subject to change still but. wahoo!

“Rrrrr…”

Thunder rumbles in the distance as Kon opens his eyes. “Krypto? Whassamatter…?”

Krypto hasn’t gotten out of bed, but his head is up, his ears pricked forward towards the front of the house. He lets out another low, warning growl deep in his chest. “Mmrrrrrrmm…”

Blearily, Kon claws his way out of sleep a little more. It’s pitch-black in his room, the stars all blotted out by the thunderstorm, but the sheet lightning flashing across the sky lights up his room bright as day, even through the curtains. He listens, trying to figure out what’s got Krypto on guard, but not bothered enough to get up. For a moment, all he can hear is the pounding rain and the howling wind, but then…

Kon freezes.

There’s an extra heartbeat. Someone other than him, Krypto, and Ma is here. And—

Scritch-scritch. Thump, thump, scritch.

—And they’re climbing on the roof. Coming closer, by the sound of it.

“Rrrrrmmbfff.” Krypto does a tiny warning woof, not quite a bark. He’s still lying down, though, clearly not worried that the person outside is a threat. Come to think of it, that heartbeat is familiar, although admittedly Kon still struggles to keep different people’s heartbeats straight. They’re all really similar. He’s not quite sure how Kal does it.

Tap-tap-tap, at the window.

Krypto tilts his head. His tail thumps against the blankets once. Kon groans. Guess he’s getting out of bed for this.

He reluctantly peels the covers aside and floats out of his wonderful, cozy bed, clicks on his desk lamp with a touch of TTK, and plods across the floor. Tap-tap-tap-tap sounds at the window again, like an impatient bird.

“I’m coming, jeez,” Kon mutters. Krypto’s lazy ass still hasn’t gotten up. He wishes that were him. He reaches up, shoves the curtains aside, and—

Barely illuminated by the lamplight and the lightning outside, wearing a hoodie that’s soaked completely through, his hair plastered to his forehead, Tim perches on the edge of Kon’s windowsill and waves.

“Hi,” he calls through the glass. “Can I come in?”

What the shit?

Kon TTKs the window open with a rush of cold wind and rain. Even half-asleep, it’s just a matter of a thought to keep any water from hitting the floor as he grabs Tim by the shoulders and hauls him inside, then slams the window shut again. “Dude, what the hell?”

“Hi,” Tim says again, breathless. He looks like he could be in the next Ring movie, his hair plastered to his face and water streaming down his cheeks. “You haven’t been answering my texts.” He shivers, but squares his shoulders resolutely. “So I thought—well—I’m here to apologize. And if you’re still mad and you don’t wanna talk to me, that’s—that’s totally okay, and I’ll just get back in the car and drive back to Gotham, but I wrote out a proper apology and—”

“Okay, okay, okay, stop!” Kon shakes him a little, incredulous. “You’re dripping all over my floor, and it’s—it’s, what, one in the morning?”

“Two-fifteen-ish,” Tim corrects.

“Right. Two-fifteen-ish in the morning, you’re dripping all over my floor, and it’s freezing out and you’re gonna catch a head cold, I swear to god—”

Kon lets go of him with one hand to wheel around, squint at his dresser, and TTK a drawer open. Tim isn’t actually dripping all over the floor, because Kon’s got him wrapped in a layer of TTK, but there is a puddle slowly gathering around his feet.

“Come on, dumbass, you need a hot shower before you even think of reading off whatever script you prepared for yourself.” A couple of folded clothes roll out of the dresser drawer and scoot down the side of the legs, then toss themselves over into Kon’s free hand. “Here. You can borrow these.”

[david-talks-sw]

So, why should I care about Lucas’s narrative? Like seriously why should I care? Not to sound dismissive but a genuine curiosity? Man sold it for one thing and the EU and the fans that made it showed Star Wars was may more then his narrative at some point.

If anything Star Wars moved beyond Lucas’s narrative even before he sold it. Even from a grande perspective his narrative stopped mattering in some sense the minute A New Hope arrived and became a hit.

Oh, you're free not to care about it.

But the fact remains:

When Lucasfilm creatives promote new content, they’ll use George as an authority figure to legitimize what they say.

Big chunks of the fandom do the same by using Lucas’ words to make authority arguments on why they believe the new films and the current direction of the franchise is good or bad.

Seeing as there seems to be a general consensus that Lucas’ word holds some power, I'd rather set the record straight on what he actually stated and intended.

You totally can just say “death of the author, what Lucas intended or what he said outside the movies doesn’t matter, what matters is what’s actually on screen” and I’d have nothing to counter that argument with because this is a subjective stance. We can debate its merits, but that’d result in a much larger discussion about the place of authorial intent in fiction.

But again, you can discard my posts and analyses by simply saying:

“I don’t care what Lucas stated, I’m a free-thinker and I can interpret any movie I watch however I want.” 

At which point, the only answer I can give you is “cool, good for you”. 

You wouldn’t be the only person I’ve met who takes this approach, either. I have friends who are older than me, saw the Original Trilogy films in theaters and felt Lucas’ dropped the ball as early as Episode VI: Return of the Jedi or the Special Editions, let alone the Prequel films. These friends don’t put Lucas on the same pedestal as everyone else seems to do, and flat out tell me:

“David, either the Jedi are the problem or the Prequels are bad, I don’t care what Lucas was going for, the result is crap and the only thing that makes it all have some degree of sense is that interpretation.”

And I mean… what do I say to that? What can you say to that? That’s a personal interpretation of a movie, it’s not an opinion that’s less valid than anyone else’s. 

But when I’m taking this approach, I’m not saying “your read of the movie is inferior to that of George Lucas” (unless you confer some degree of power to his word, as the creator of the franchise).

All I’m saying is “Lucas’ message was X”. 

You can agree with the message, you can disagree with the message, the message may be factually/morally/philosophically right or wrong, that’s all debatable. 

I’m just pointing out that, when you look at all the data and you go by what George Lucas stated, it’s X, not Y, like most of the fandom and even authors of the franchise seems to keep stating.

Finally, on a personal note:

I don't like the fact that every time I see my childhood heroes on screen, nowadays, they're portrayed as protocol-worshipping stoic assholes.

I don't like that 90% of the fandom thinks that's how they're meant to be seen when the data demonstrates it's not.

I don't like that the reason my childhood heroes keep being portrayed in this uncharitable light is because the fans from the generation prior to mine - whom these characters weren't meant for - wanted to ensure that their childhood hero, Luke Skywalker, would be preserved as "the ultimate Jedi" and concluded that the only way to do so would be to reframe the Prequel Jedi as dogmatic and emotionless.

So now the OT fans have Luke, the Sequel fans have Rey, the TCW fans have Ahsoka... all unsullied protagonists.

Whereas pro-Jedi PT fans need to mentally ready themselves for when Lucasfilm decides to release the nth "Windu was more strict than a droid" case.

[starlightseraph]

efforts to rid my dash of the rpf blogs have been going well, but, alas, there are always more, so i’m gonna get my thoughts out about the most recent things i’ve seen.

so i was looking at a post i very much agree with, only to see this in the comments:

…

firstly, where did op mention david/michael shipping? they didn’t. at all. they were talking about the boundless “analysis” (stalking), and how it’s creepy no matter its target; whether it’s predicting the end of a relationship, finding “evidence” of baby trapping or abuse, or insisting on an unconfirmed relationship. all of this is weird.

it’s still equally as weird when the subjects of this wild speculation are f/f or not same sex. i can think of multiple heterosexual examples (it happened in the doctor who fandom, also in the house fandom, although these incidents were both well before my time. i’m using old instances because they’re less likely to ignite a fight, but there are current ones too). our discomfort with this insanity has nothing to do with the shipping being m/m. like nothing. it has everything to do with the fact that none of us know anything about these people, yet you act as though you’re their closest friends and gossiping with them behind the high school bleachers.

i am not assuming that they’re straight, most of us aren’t assuming that, and my gaydar definitely goes off with them, but, like, i’m not assuming one way or the other at all until they explicitly describe the situation, if they ever do.

with regards to the “it’s not speculation when they say it themselves”: georgia’s ig caption genuinely seems like it’s part of a bit to me. like this is totally something that can and does happen platonically, all the time. if she posted something on her story saying “yes david and michael are in a relationship together,” then that’d be enough for me. but everything we’ve seen thus far is just as likely to be platonic. her caption was worded ambiguously, in a way that’s frequently used to describe friends with no romantic interest in each other. whatever it is, they know each other’s boundaries, we don’t.

oh, and, since it’s perfectly fine to make up your own “interpretations” of real people existing objectively outside the realm of your perception: my interpretation of the rpf blogs is that it’s pure wishful thinking. you guys see characters with a strong attraction, played by 2 people with a strong connection, and superimpose your desire for the characters’ relationship onto the real people. but, since you don’t see the actors’ lives in the way you see a characters’ story, you pick apart every snippet that you can find and piece together a narrative. it’s fine when you make up a fun story or write a made up fic on ao3, i don’t have any real ethical objections to fictional rp shipping. however, you guys go way beyond that, and you present your story as an investigation and as an analysis of real life.

that’s what’s creepy. that’s what we don’t like. the absolute worst part is when you go after the kids. sincerely fuck off with that. who do you think you are that you can speculate that david and michael wanted to leave their partners but that georgia and anna “strategically” got pregnant. i have seen people saying that georgia and anna are baby trappers, abusive to their partners and kids, stupid, and manipulative. i have seen people using these exact words to describe georgia and anna in relation to their parenting and the existence of their children. i have seen people say that their children hate them. none of that is excusable no matter what it’s presented as. at the very least, leave their children out of it, please.

[axieta]

Hungry eyes

Henry Winter x reader |

Warnings: in this part there are non but later parts are going to hit diff so mdi

Summary: Richard is the newest member of the bizarre, isolated classics course. There is seven of them in total, every personage strange and intriguing in their own way. But there is this one girl who’s sheer presence unnerves and simultaneously compels his whole being. What secrets do those sharp eyes of her hide? And what is her relation to the ever stoic Henry Winter?

Chapter 1

| In the eye of a predator |

I think I noticed it first during my second week in the Greek class. We were sitting, all seven of us, in the school library; all but Henry whining and breaking our heads over a particularly dreadful translation of Arrian. Something about Alexander, I’m sure of it.

It was then she looked at me for the first time. And it wasn’t just a throw-away glance, or a squint-eyed half-smile. No, it was the truest, fullest and most precise stare of all the stares I have ever witnessed in my life.

She tasked me with her gaze, her eyes slightly hooded, with long, thick eyelashes. From head to toe and then from toe to head. Said eyelashes fluttered, when she came to scan my face and then her eyes met mine. And I saw it, hidden deep inside of those abyssal irises, the electrifying glint that sent shivers down my spine. The moment our gazes crossed, I knew I was done for. I was vanquished in the matter of seconds, quickly submitted into the reign of that cool look, enslaved by its ferociousness, the sheer intensity of it; and I didn’t even know that I was competing. Something in that stare compelled me to give in.

It was a spark of folly, pure and hot like a furnace in the middle of December and for a second I thought it to be burning deep into my cheek.

I remember Hampden in a magnificent blur. A splash of red, gold, white and green. To me it is a mystic collage of places, objects without a name or an owner. It is an onslaught of faces, Greek letters and Latin phrases blending intangible into each other.

But there is something in particular that constantly managers to break through the heavy mist of stimuli and fogged-up memories. It burns and freezes me up every time it reappears deep in my mind and I can’t seem to get rid of it.

The shining, primal and dangerous pair of eyes. Looking from underneath furrowed brows, right through my physical shell. Etching the uneasy, thrilled feeling of the consciousness right into my bones. They haunt me up to this day. And they shine beautifully amidst the conflagration their stare fires up inside of me.

It was far too hot, for a lad as uptight and uneasy as I constantly was at that time. I remember starting to sweat profusely the minute that stare anchored into my figure. With time I learned to ignore the uncomfortable feeling, to push it down and bottle it up like the rest of things in my life.

But that first time, the initial first-degree contact with that stare had sent me into a hellish spiral of sweat and as I thought a feverish seizure.

Looking back, I was probably exaggerating, it was however extremely unnerving to feel those vibrant, lively irises bearing right into my flesh as if they could dig up my deepest, most shameful secrets.

She was, the proprietary of the eyes I mean, one of the latest additions to the class, however junior to me in age, she’s been a semester ahead of me in context of education in Hampden’s Greek and Latin course. Outside of the school walls, she was eons ahead of me.

I think there wasn’t a subject she wasn’t interested in. Like an encyclopedia, you could start any topic, most random or niche, and she would already have had formed an opinion on it and delight you with a lengthy explanation to her stance. She wasn’t like Henry, who had clearly dedicated himself solely to the classical arts, and passionately ignored anything other than that, or Bunny who in turn ignored everything that wasn’t forced into him or served to him on a silver platter.

No, she was a titan of knowledge. Hungry for more and eager to bathe you in some of the goods she had already acquired.

But she wasn’t loud in that strive for knowledge of hers. She would rather engage in one-on-one conversations, get to know her interlocutor, synchronize with him and conduct a debate that would also engage, and with luck, completely devour him as well.

Although her favorite subject were the many a conquests of Alexander the Great. Yes, it was an endless topic for her.

Once even I saw her shed a tear while comparing Alexander and Hephaestion to Achilles and Patroclus, wailing over the poetic tragedy of the Macedonians’ situation in light of Alexander’s love for the Iliad.

‘He even had his oven copy of the damn book. He slept with it under his pillow!’

I remember her voice breaking every time someone prompted her to start this particular topic. And I remember Bunny rolling his eyes every time she undertook it.

Maybe that’s why I recall that particular evening so clearly. We were translating The campaigns of Alexander after all; but instead of her usual glossy eyes and melancholic stare I was faced with that.

The malignant gaze of a demon.

Well, now I might be exaggerating a little. But it is true. There was something hot and unnerving about her. Maybe it was the stare. Or maybe it was something much more clandestine, like the sharp angles of her face, the way her eyebrows set or her mouth shaped her syllables. Maybe it was the distinct play of light and shadows on her face, or was it the bird-like tilt of her head. Or the fluid, swift movements of her body. As if she was pure water, nothing more nothing less, flowing gracefully from one place to the other. Never faltering, never tripping over or halting.

Or maybe the fact that sometimes, when she looked up at you, with that bird tilt to her head and a deep cut smile to her face, one that would reveal a dimple on the left side of her face, and a slight tightness at the corners of her eyes, she looked almost sweet. Alluring in a mischievous way, the way all things primal can be. Polarizing and pulling you in like a magnet. Like a fox, looking you straight in the eye as he bites through the arteries of a wild goose he just caught. It is a tragic, gruesome scene, but something in the cruelty of the deed makes you unable to look away. And maybe it is the blood dripping down the fiery red fur, or the last high pitched quacks of the goose, but there is something forbidden and for it enticing in the scene.

I could never realy put a finger on it. What was the true source of that mystic, almost electric aura she seemed to be oozing out of ever pore of her body.

My bet would be on the totality of those little quirks I’ve already mentioned.

There was something profoundly primeval about her. She would mask it of course, but I’ve seen it on several occasions. The animal ripping from within her. Hiding in her wolfish grin, lurking in the glint of her eyes.

It made my hair stand on my head.

She was a perfect predator. Disguised into a frail, sweet girl. With big, seductive eyes, soft lips, and the sweetest nose. Her voice deep, melodic like streams of old Greece and her laugh all rumbling summer thunder. She seemed just so… so good, so poetic, so beautiful.

It was that crude cunning that made my stomach churn. Burrowed deep under her skin just waiting to jump out of her.

If I had to pick someone, out of us seven, who most resembled a Greek god or goddess I would choose her. And not because of her skills in greek or Latin. No, Henry surpassed her as well as the rest of us in that department. It also wasn’t for her beauty. In my eyes, no one could compare to Camilla.

No, that would be for the feral fierceness that constantly boiled over in her. Her restlessness, the passion that oh so often consumed her and the emotions upholstered with velvet of indulgence I would later see her throw herself into with abandon. She looked like she belonged right in the middle of Dionysus’ cortège. At times she was senile and pleasant to the mortals that wished to mingle with the lesser gods such as the classical course class. But she also looked like the type of girl to identify herself not with the quick-feeted nymphs or graceful dreads that formed the procession, but rather the wild and menacing maenads. She made me feel as if only she’d drunk too much of vine she would gladly and eagerly rip my head off clean of my shoulders, and she would later laugh about it, as my corpus-less head would be forced to sing to her à la poor Orpheus.

And I knew I saw the shine of her teeth not because I was a good observer, or because she had grown careless and didn’t bother masking around me. No, I saw it because she wanted me to see it. Because she wanted to mess with me, mischievousness running deep in her veins, chaos being the only thing for witch she could feel real passion. Because she was sure, no one was going to believe me. The truest of predators, as I said.

And it was true. Back then, even if I told myself from a week before, he wouldn’t believe me. After all, she looked fine. She wasn’t a great beauty like Camilla, but she was rather easy on the eye. Maybe it is because of that true, cruel nature of hers that she was so kind to reveal before me, that her imagine remains rather distorted in my head; but I can tell you one thing- what she lacked in beauty, she made up in charm and charisma. Even without the glint in her eyes an indescribable aura of mystery veiled her existence. And when she started talking, and I mean talking with you and not to you, her deep, melodic voice could put you in some kind of a trans, like the ones conducted in Delphi. I think she gave people courage to speak with that voice; somehow untangled their tongues and compelled them to converse far more easily than if they would without her.

She had this weird soothing quality about her, if only she wanted to seem soothing that is.

Once I saw her enraptured in some sort of a quarry with Simon Sharon, a scrawny boy with a stutter, who at the time of the exchange did not stutter at all. On the contrary, he seemed to be standing his rhetoric ground against the onslaught of her own arguments quite gracefully.

She was like a magnet for guys. And while Camilla seemed to be almost boy-repellant, the opposite gender swarmed to her peer like flies to honey. Not only that, girls would also cling to her as if she was their guru or something.

I always thought it was weird. After all, she did nothing so special. Nothing that would attract this much attention, and as I’ve seen later in the year, she would go as far as to actively rid herself of the following.

And yet, up to the very end she remained our school’s sweetheart.

She dressed rather modestly. Mostly in long dresses, sometimes skirts and cardigans, although ocasionally we would also see her sporting a pair of pants. During those days Bunny seemed to be most cold towards her.

Either way, most of her clothes were kind of airy, ghostly even. Sometimes when she would walk through the corridors and a gust of wind gathered the ruffles of her dress she resembled more an apparition rather than a human being.

She was rather palie, and so the whole atmosphere of Hampden as well at the fraily clothing played into the elusive nature of her beauty and further thickened the cocoon of mystery around her.

Her eyes were intelligent, big and bright when she needed them to be, and narrow and nigh all-sing when she didn’t. Her face went in and out of those two states so easily, as if she didn’t even think of it. The transitions between her moods were so natural that sometimes, after some time even I couldn’t really point out when or even if the change occurred.

It was like having a shapeshifter living right next door to you, and noone conscious of that but you.

Henry, Francis, Bunny, Camilla and Charles, they all were too blind or too focused on themselves to discern this duality, although I think out of all of them, Henry came the closest to the truth.

Out of all of us, he was the one that she tolerated the most. Sometimes I would see the both of them sitting together in the library. Most of the times they would be silent. He would be translating something, and she would be scribbling away or reading. But a few times I was able to witness a heated debate between the two of them, upheld both in perfect Greek and later on in Latin as well.

I thought Henry kind of liked her, in his own way. I thought he tolerated her, and vice versa simply because of the obvious equality between them.

Only later I found out how stupid and oblivious to the true nature of this relation I was. And that the signs were all around me. And that I was just too dense to not pick up on them.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job, Post 351: That was Then, This is Now, p3 (Gianna Interlude)

Jesus Christ look at this place. I can’t believe what a fucking mess it is. When was the last time I cleaned? The thing is I just don’t care anymore. My life was once neat and orderly but it all started slowly falling apart the moment I got put on this project. I really can’t fucking believe it. What’s happening to me?!? I used to be a smart, driven chick, headed for great things. Now…it’s like I can barely think straight! All I can think about is him. It’s like my brains are now all in my tits…which, to be honest, should make me a fucking genius.

I’ve been with Evolution for a few years now. I was hired onto the Quality Control team, and now I’m a Project Manager. The gig looked good, originally, they sounded serious. Well, they are serious. They’re fucking really serious. They seriously have made my life suck.

Okay, so it seemed great: I got to try out this new Product they wanted to push out. They made me the clinical coordinator, but I also got to be a study subject myself. It sounded so fucking awesome. This shit was going to make me a fucking queen, after all this went down. They were using it, in these trials, for like politicians, and CEOs, women of influence, girls who were in important positions. To make approval easier they presented it to the FDA as an OTC (over the counter, of course), non-Rx (nonprescription, duh) supplement which is like a joke, because it’s a fucking bioweapon. They had the right people in the right places and they somehow got it through, approved for OTC. But in the end it’s not going to be available for just anybody. It was going to make women they choose - like me, if it worked - better. Better at what they do. Better at meeting their challenges. Better at what they need to be to help us fucking win.

I don’t totally understand all the science, but I understand some of it (and all the witchy stuff I only half-believe). I do know that it’s next-level shit and totally sketchy from a safety-profile standpoint. It was all to help ‘the movement' though, and blah blah blah, of course I’m all for that, who isn’t? So, yeah, I’d take the trial. It sounded great. And it’d make me better at my job; that’s why they wanted me on it in the first place.

It was just some shots, and I knew that if this panned out I’d be, like, ascending. Like I’d heard others have, like the chicks I’d seen in the clinics. When all this is said and done I’d get my own team with the company, fuckloads of salary, and a promotion up and out of this bogus job.

They just need to wait with me, they said. They need me to run this clinical trial, but not affect it. So I can’t show up in person. I can’t have my influence change what’s going on in there. In fact, they wanted to keep me isolated and out of the offices so I didn’t affect anyone there, or out in public. Like, I can’t even see my own family. They’re still all back East so it doesn’t really matter. I don’t really want to see them anyway.

So I’ve basically been in quarantine, alone, for like, months now. Sure it sounded great at first - I get to work from home, and I get to set my own schedule. I get everything delivered, you know, food and whatever. I don’t have to deal with any of the fuckwads out there in the world. But I’m so fucking bored. Months of this. Months, while life goes on in the outside world. The elections and all that? I just ended up celebrating here by my own fucking self.

I mean, yeah, I’m working for a good cause. But jesus, look the fuck at me now! I was always a busty girl, but I’ve gone from a double-E to an - I dunno, double-G - to whatever the hell I am now. Fucking huge is what it is.

Why? Because the dude, this doctor likes…no, loves…no, worships tits. Because women with big tits get him to do what they want, I guess. Sound familiar? That’s fucking men in general, but I need this specific one to do what I tell him to. My only interaction with the guy is, like, here and there on video conference calls, and all he sees of me is like from the waist up. So, my ass is still my plain old ass, but now my tits are like a porn star’s. And they keep getting bigger! And that’s not the worst of it! Now he’s all I freakin’ think about! I feel like a goddamn braindead lovesick bimbo mommygirlfriend sometimes and-

Gah!

I mean, I know I’m no different than other girls. Women everywhere want this sort of thing now. A shorter boyfriend, a weaker guy, a dependent husband, all vulni- or whatnot. The shorter, weaker and more dependent the better. We all want them to need us for money and safety, for warmth and nutrition. For everything. It’s just fucking sexy. We’d love to be able - if we could - to pick them up like children, like infants, hold them in our hands or haha nnnngh stick them down our dresses and hide them in our tits. Honestly we all want our men to be like little embryos. If we could shove them up into our wombs, we fucking would. It’s, like, nobody’s really talking about it out in the open, but it’s normal now, to feel this way. We’re all looking for short, weak, totally and utterly dependent men.

But, fuck, this product has got me. I don’t want it to be just anyone. I want it to be HIM. I think it’s because I don’t see any other guys It’s imprinted him on me. And since my pheromones can’t get to him he doesn’t feel the same He’s like enamored/suckled onto this Melissa person and it fucking burns my hooch to think about. Jealousy is not a good color on me, well on anyone I realize, but I can’t fucking help it I want him to nnnnnnngh fucking shrink for me so I can shove him into my tits, up my cunt, into my bra. I want to make him just stick to me and I’ll fucknig absorbbbb him ahhhhhggg 

fuck.

Get your shit together, Gianna. You’ve got a job to do. Back to work…

…but just imagine.

===============================================

Want to know how the ‘Product' got past the FDA? Read 'Seeking Approval', available on my Patreon.

And thank you thank you RiF for the pro-bono editorial work on this one. 

[oceanbug]

when worlds collide

smau non!idol ningning x reader

17.5 ning yi zhuo.

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Spring Hill High, Freshman Year, 7 years ago.

A 14K diamond necklace around her neck and a 24K pleated gold brooch on her uniform blazer. Silky brown hair all the way to her lower back always straightened, never a hair out of place. All eyes stared at her as she walked down the school’s corridor. She had a small, polite smile and sat near the front of the auditorium. Whispers could be heard all around her.

‘Is that Ning Yi Zhuo? Isn’t her family, like, super rich?’

‘Yeah! I heard her family signal-handily fund and build half of the school’

‘No wonder she’s so pretty; she can afford it’

Ningning was a known name around town; she was popular everywhere she went. She was popular, but not liked.

Ningning learned the hard way that to keep her life happy, she needed to keep a small circle. At the moment, this circle had a total of 0 members. That was pretty small!

It’s not that she didn’t enjoy the company—quite the contrary—but it was hard to see who wanted her for her friendship and who wanted her for money.

To keep things at bay, she’d wave and have small talk with anyone who asked, but when it came to hanging out outside of school, she’d always refused. Going to the mall or to dinner always brought up the subject of money. Since Ningning had an abundance of money, her friends always felt entitled to it just because they were friends with her. It would start arguments when she refused to pay for everything, thus ending her friendships. Friendships that were her everything fell apart so easily. Had anyone actually wanted to be friends with her? Or did they just want her money? It was a story that repeated itself over and over, but that was going to stop in high school; she’d keep her distance from everyone. It was her goal.

That is until a certain raven-haired boy came creeping into her life.

"Yeonjun, Park Yeonjun. And who do I have the honor of speaking too?"

Unlucky for Ningning, she had become chemistry lab partners with the most social boy in all of Spring Hill High.

"I’m surprised you don’t know. It’s Ning Yi Zhuo, but just call me Ningning."

"Ning Yi Zhuo, huh? It does sound familiar. Well, what does it matter? You’re stuck with me all year, Ningning; get used to seeing this pretty face all day." Ningning rolled her eyes and gave him a small smile.

"Aw, come on, princess, I can spot a fake smile from miles away. You don’t have to pretend to like me. It’s fine if you don’t; I’ll convince you otherwise eventually." Ningning’s smile didn’t drop, but she did feel herself giggle. It had been a while since she had genuinely laughed at someone’s joke. She had to stop herself, though. Ningning couldn’t get close to someone else. But it’s just one class a day with him. There was no way she’d become friends with Yeonjun.

And Ningning was right. She didn’t become friends with Yeonjun. They became so much more than that.

__________________________

Meeting Yeonjun brought Ningning into a whole new world. One filled with adventure and curiosity. One where she didn’t have to force herself to be introverted for the sake of her happiness, she could be extroverted and happy without fear.

Day after day, he would come into class and tell her wild stories, half of which Ningning had been certain were fake, but that he only told her so he could see her smile. And laugh. Yeonjun always made her laugh.

One day, while walking out of the cafeteria on her way to eat her lunch outside, Ningning was stopped by two girls. One had long, flowing brown hair with a mole under her eye.

"Heard you’re getting chummy with our Yeonjun?" Both girls stared at Ningning, waiting for a response. She awkwardly shifted her eyes in confusion, but before she got the chance to explain herself, the other girl next to her with bangs began to laugh.

"Wonyoung, come on! You’re scaring her! Listen, she’s kidding. We don’t care what’s going on with you and Yeonjun; just know he won’t shut up about you."

"Ugh, it’s so annoying; you’re all he talks about, Ning. Just go out with him so we can have lunch in peace! Right, Aeri?" The girl with bangs, Aeri, nodded her head and giggled.

Ningning blushed at the thought.

"Aw, are you shy? Tell you this: Let’s go out together as a group. You could get a feel for him and see if you like him before making a move. I’m sure you’ll have fun!" Ningning didn’t want to go out with these strangers, but she did want to go out with Yeonjun. So she agreed, and it was the best decision she had ever made.

The group of four first went roller skating. It was Ninging’s first time ever rollerskating, and she learned the hard way that it wasn’t easy to grasp on the first try. With each fall came further frustration from Ningning. All she could do was watch as her friends laughed and had fun. While she lay on the floor alone, After falling down for the fifth time, she saw a hand extended out to her.

"Here, grab on to me. It’ll be easier this way; if we both fall, we fall together! Totes less embarrassing." Ningning held onto Giselle tightly, and the two of them skated together. Aeri never left Ninging’s side the whole afternoon, and if she fell, then Aeri fell right with her. It was comforting. Is this what genuine friendship is like?

After hours of skating, everyone was beat and decided to have lunch. Banter and jokes flew around the table; Wonyoung even told some embarrassing stories about Yeonjun. It was a blast! Once the check finally came, Ningning felt shivers down her spine. This is when the argument always happened. Were these new-found friends going to dump the check on her? Were they going to use her like everyone else did?

"I got it covered; it’s on me, babes!" Aeri called out.

"Oh, I can pay for my..."

"Nah, don’t worry about it; I have money for days." It was true that the Uchinaga family was rich.

"Just let the sugar mommy pay for our lunch; it’s the least she can do for forcing you here today!" Yeonjun shined a bright smile at Ningning and winked at Giselle.

"Aw, you think of me as a mother?"

Ningning laughed. Maybe this friendship wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe she’d finally found people who liked her, for her.

_________________________________

Spring Hill High, Junior Year

Ningning started her day like no other. She got dressed and ready for school. She had her personal chef make her breakfast, and she got in her personal driver's car. It was not a typical day for anyone else, but for Ningning, this was normal.

It wasn’t until she heard frantic whispering all around the halls at school that she knew something had happened. Before she got the chance to look for her friends, she was dragged by her arm into the janitor’s closet. After adjusting to the dim lighting of the room, Ningning realized it was her friend Wonyoung who dragged her in.

"Listen, I’m going to tell you something. You gotta promise me you won’t freak out."

"Wony, you’re scaring me; what’s up?"

"Ok, um, so yesterday I was in student council helping plan for Spirit week, and someone needed to bring the printed setlist to the principal's office. I volunteered, of course, since I hate being on student council. The president’s always so creepy and so boring. You know he went on a 10-minute tangent about-"

"Wonyoung, focus."

"Right, sorry. I got everything together and made my way to the principal's office, but on my way there, I heard someone making out at the bottom of the fourth-floor staircase. Anytime I hear love in the air, I just have to investigate! So, I made my way up and hid to see if I could get a good look at the lovebirds, and...

"And…"

"Ningning, it was Giselle and Yeonjun."

Ningning’s world had fallen apart. Her eyes quickly welled up with tears, while her brain still hadn’t fully comprehended the conversation. Her best friend and her boyfriend were fucking?

Her happiness, which she had tried so hard to keep, had been shattered. There are no good people in this world. At least not to Ningning. Not anymore. 

_________________________________

"You fucked Giselle?" Ningning’s voice roared throughout the hallway. Her targets were right in sight.

"Ning, what are you talking about?"

"Oh, don’t act all innocent. I thought we were friends. I trusted you. Am I just someone you can toy with until you don’t want me anymore? Or were you just using me to get close to Yeonjun? Be honest."

“Ningning, I don’t know-“

"Wonyoung’s telling the truth, Babe. I’m so sorry. Just give it up, Giselle; it’s true. We messed around behind Ning’s back." Yeonjun looked sorrowful as he admitted to his "infidelity".

Giselle’s face had been twisted and turned in confusion. But Ningning didn’t give her the chance to speak. Why had Yeonjun confessed to something that didn’t take place? Why wasn’t Ningning listening to her?

"We’re so done. I’ll make sure you pay for this. You’ll regret ever crossing Ning Yi Zhuo."

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masterlist ~ next

(Synopsis) Y/N had never been the type to take life for granted. You grew up with the mindset that if you wanted something, you had to work for it; So getting paired up with the university’s “Rich Bitch” Ning Yi Zhuo for your midterm was the last thing you wanted. Are you willing to step into the world of fame for an A+?

taglist (open): @azraism ; @kimsgayness ; @sewiouslyz ; @winieter ; @llluvbluy ; @i06kkura ; @everydayiloveyves ; @edamboon ; @rdfgfv

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

What are your thought on Helluva Boss, if you have any?

I have many, as a matter of fact.

It’s sad to say that I don’t think I like the show much anymore. It has good moments, but the show overall just feels like a messy fanfic.

It tries to force emotional moments with little to no build up.

Think S1E3 where Loona yells at Blitzo that he’s not her dad and she doesn’t need him, that had zero build up and feels totally out of place. Blitzo wasn’t even acting much like a dad in that moment, he was acting like a boss trying to get his employee to focus on the job.

You need to show us more of Blitzo and Loona’s relationship, and actually get us invested, then moments like this will actually feel impactful.

The comedy isn’t great

I’m not a comedy expert by an ny means, but the jokes in this show are timed very weirdly. They’re very quick and you hardly have time to even process what’s going on before it cuts away. It isn’t helped by the fact that there’s so much going on on screen most of the time that I have to pause or go back to understand what’s happening.

Also the subject matter of the jokes. “Baby dick!” “hole!” “bitch!” ohh Moxxie’s getting sexually assaulted! isn’t that funny? Look there are dicks everywhere! Isn’t incest funny?!

The Stolas story is wasted potential

The Stolas from the Ars Goetia was a fallen angel who fought alongside Lucifer in the war against heaven. He used the stars to guide Lucifer’s army and help them evade God’s forces. For this crime he was damned to Hell for eternity, a place where nothing good can thrive.

In the show he’s a demon prince born already in Hell, and he’s part of the Goetia family, a royal family of powerful demons that marry each other (???) to produce heirs.

Not only would keeping Stolas’ original origin story make his character more interesting, it also would add depth to all the other Goetia characters. They fought for a cause they believed in, and they lost, now they’re all trapped in Hell forever. Why is Stella so angry all the time? Because she was on the losing side of a war, and now she’s literally in Hell.

Speaking of Stella, the Ars Goetia being fallen angels would mean that they wouldn’t have blood family like parents or siblings, so Paimon wouldn’t be Stolas’ father and Andrealphus wouldn’t be Stella’s brother. But, if they don’t have blood family, what about Via? Well, angels can definitely have children if they choose to. But why were Stolas and Stella arranged to be married? Because Lucifer wanted his fallen angels to conceive powerful children and expand the population/legions of Hell.

Heaven and Hell are at constant war. It’s more subtle right now, with both sides trying to manipulate/guide humanity indirectly from the background, but eventually it will culminate in a second battle in Heaven, where Lucifer will battle the arch angel Michael to the death. Lucifer wants to have as many demons on his side as possible, so he’ll have a better chance at winning. So he and his demons corrupt humans so they’ll end up in Hell, they create demons from Hell itself, like Imps and Succubi, and pair up the demons of the Ars Goetia to create powerful demon children.

Millie’s character could be a lot better

I’m convinced that no one involved in this show has ever spoken to an actual southern person. All of Millie’s southernisms are so forced and her accent isn’t great.

Everyone and their mother has talked about how Millie doesn’t have much of a character outside of being Moxxie’s girl boss wife, but what character arc could she have had?

In the pilot, Millie is all smiles, hypes up Blitzo’s bad ideas, and brushes off Blitzo stalking her and Moxxie. She gives off a people pleaser vibe. Even if something bothers her she just pushes it down and puts on a smiley face so no one thinks she’s bothered. Southern women are taught from a very young age that making a scene is the worst thing you can possibly do. Don’t disrupt anything, be respectful, and save face. Millie would’ve grown up with this mentality.

When Millie and Moxxie got together, her parents did not approve. Not only was Moxxie not the rough and tough cowboy they always imagined their daughter ending up with, but he was also the son of an extremely dangerous crime boss that terrorized the ring of wrath for years, and they did not want their baby getting involved in that. They continued to see each other in secret, until Moxxie cut all ties with his father and asked Millie to run away with him. She agreed, even though it broke her heart to leave her family. She packed a bag, stuck a note on the screen door, and ran off to Imp city with Moxxie.

When Millie comes back to wrath for the harvest moon festival, she’s very nervous about how everyone will react to seeing her. Family is all these Imps have, so just up and abandoning your family is a big deal. When her parents see her again, they are happy, but do throw some passive aggressive remarks at her, and they are straight up cold to Moxxie. They talk about the pain games and how Millie probably shouldn’t do it this year. They say it may be too tough for her, considering she’s a city girl now. She takes shit from her family the whole episode until the end when her parents are scolding her and talking shit about Moxxie for loosing the fight with Striker. She finally stands up to them and says that, yeah, maybe she’s changed, but she’s happy and in love. That should be enough for them, and if it isn’t, she doesn’t want to stay any longer. She leaves with a new air of confidence.

[boy-gender]

hey love ur blog! idk if you have anything for this but im questioning my gender rn and i feel like some mix of a guy and agender or nonbinary (so im thinking demiboy maybe) (im afab) but i also kinda sorta feel like a girl sometimes but only like a tiny tiny bit. and only sometimes. and every time i feel like a girl i also feel like a guy at the same time. idk my gender crisis only started like a week ago (i’ve had others in the past but this is my worst so far) so i’m scared i’m faking it or it’s a phase and i just want the aesthetic of being a guy or something. idk totally fine if you don’t wanna answer this cuz ik you’re not an advice blog or anything but i js thought you might be a good place to ask

There's no such thing as faking a gender, unless you are doing it intentionally. If you arent purposely, knowingly, choosing to lie, then it's not fake. Gender is confusing and multifaceted and contradictory and not static. It changes throughout a life, and as quickly as hour to hour. Just because your gender shifts around and you dont always know how to keep track of it doesnt make it fake- it makes it what gender is. A qualia. A subjective experience. There are 8 billion people on this planet, so there are 8 billion unique genders, even if most people tend to use the same handful of words to approximate their feelings.

If demiboy feels like a label that fits you, try it out! You can always change it again later. Maybe youre genderfluid. Maybe youre agender. Maybe youre genderqueer. There is no limit to how many times or how often you can change your understanding of yourself, or how you describe it.

Also, id like to throw this out there, not just for you but also because ive seen many newly trans or questioning people echo this: "im not really trans im fetishizing being trans" is straight up not a thing. Do you see trans people as people? Congrats, you have not dehumanized trans people the way negative fetishization requires. Thinking you want to relabel or explore your gender based on aesthetics is fine! a lot of gender IS aesthetic! Thats not a "lesser" or "wrong" or "shallow" reason. Aesthetics matter to people. Aesthetics influence gender presentation. Anyone accusing you of faking being trans or saying your reasons for calling yourself trans are bad/wrong/not enough? That's a transmedicalist scumbag and you go put their opinion in the garbage and then block them.

I cant tell you what you are. I cannot diagnose you with genders. Only you can tell you who you are, and it's okay to not know, or to change it. I would recommend instead of asking outsiders, ask yourself. Sit with it. Examine it from different angles. Rotate gender in your mind, if you will. What words are you drawn to? What kind of body would you want to have? What aesthetics matter to you? Amongst what groups of peers are you most comfortable, and why? What about gender makes you decidedly uncomfortable? You don't need to know all those answers now or soon or even ever, but they can be places to start.

Ultimately the opinion of anyone who *isnt you* isnt worth jack shit in this regard. You gotta spend some time with it and decide for yourself. And there is no wrong decision; there's only yourself in progress.

[mephinomaly]

[TL] BIOHAZARD/Chapter 5

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Time: That night

Location: In living quarters of the AIIE experiment grounds

Rei: Uwaa, we’re having a sleepover with all of UNDEAD~♪

Fufu. The SS preliminaries was the perfect opportunity for one, but Kaoru-kun was thrown into a desert and separated from us.

I’m happy that the four of us can have a sleepover together peacefully– gah!?

Koga: ...

Rei: Koga? Don’t throw an omanjuu at me? Is this your way of telling me you want to play?

Koga: Stop bein’ so happy-go-lucky, vampire bastard. The hell you mean, pajama party.

Rei: Oya, how nostalgic. Could this be that you want me to call you ‘wanko’ for the first time in a while?

Koga: I ain’t callin’ you that for nostalgia purposes, I’m insultin' you.

Rei: How troubling. Please don’t take your frustrations out on me.

We’ve all given our consent to take part in this experiment.

We can’t complain now, can we?

Koga: We was basically forced to? If it hadn’t been us, it woulda been like, Ra*bits who haven’t done nothin’ wrong.

Then we’d hafta live with the knowledge that them lot are now the victims whilst we watch from the sidelines.

It’s better for our own mental health to just do it for real, right?

‘Cos I don’t like this at all. Don’t forget that.

Kaoru: Ahaha. It’s definitely a little off putting and shady sounding, but it makes for an interesting story, right?

AI idols and stuff– no, technology and science in general has come a long way. Really, it’s like an old sci-fi movie.

If this was just a movie, or even just someone else’s problem, I think it could have been a lot of fun.

Adonis: I also don’t feel great about this but I am interested in terms of the development of science and technology.

This is the future we thought of when we learnt about Voc*loid and drawing AIs, and it’s becoming a reality right in front of our eyes.

We’re now living in a near sci-fi world that people from the past could only imagine.

It’s like a dream, whether that’s a good or a bad thing.

I’m excited.

Kaoru: Ahaha. That totally has the vibe of a boyish heroic novel.

I don’t particularly like that sort of thing either. At the end of the day, I’m still the son of an academic who reached for the sea in search of romance and mystery.

Adonis: I also dislike jumping into areas I don’t know about.

Rei: If we think realistically, if we had refused to take part, there was the likelihood of RhythmLink turning their backs on us.

I suspect they would be rather unpleasant in the matter.

This is a necessary step so we are not thrown to the side. The compensation is rather impressive, and, in simple terms, profitable for us.

Well, we made quite the sum of money during the SS, so we have some to spare.

If an experiment such as ‘AI idols’ is successful, implemented, and announced to the world, won’t they look to us as we were the test subjects? Doesn’t that make this all worth it?

Koga: But this doesn’t solve the problem we’re havin’. They’re just killin’ time, it literally has nothin’ t’do with our situation.

This better not turn into a goose chase, wastin’ time runnin’ ‘round lookin’ stupid.

Rei: Umu. We should all brainstorm some ideas in order to solve the root of the problem, as Koga said. Fortunately, we have been blessed with plenty of time to do so.

Kaoru: Mmm… I was kinda on guard when they said experiment, but if they’re just asking us to stay the night here?

Rei: Umu. We will be given medicine, which will cause us to sleep for about half a day. In that time, via the devices connected to our heads, data will be collected and compiled.

During the time we are not asleep, we will exercise to prevent our bodies from weakening, and eat to keep up our energy levels. Let’s all get on, the four of us.

The testing period will last approximately one week. During this time, any other forms of work are banned, as the extra stimulus may skew the results.

Our phones will be confiscated, and we will be separated from the outside world.

Kaoru: Kinda feels like being a prisoner or a hospital patient… Welp, this’ll be easy money if all we’ve got to do is laze around.

Rei: Umu. I suppose we can take it easy. We will be paid regardless as to whether the experiment produces useful results or not, so it’s not a complete waste of time.

Fortunately, this location is better than a hospital or a prison.

Look, there are some cards and board games we can use to kill time. Let’s play until it’s time for us to sleep.

Koga: Ain’t you bein’ too relaxed ‘bout this whole thing?

Rei: That’s a good thing, is it not? I’ve been acting unusually mature since my youth, so I do not have many experiences like this. Such as having a sleepover with friends of the same age—

That’s why. I can’t be sure of the future, but I know I am very happy right now ♪

[ ☆ ]

Chapter 4

Chapter 6

[notafunkiller]

I’m going to start a lot of trouble by saying this and I don’t care: There is something with stringy blonde hair and dead eyes that has been the cause of this exhaustion over the past two years. And tbh, he won’t look well rested or healthy again until he finds the courage and the self respect to kick it to the curb.

First of all, I want to say: feel free to express your opinions openly here, as I value and respect freedom of speech.

[Of course, as long as there are no threats... which is not the case now]

Second of all, there is something that stans do in most fandoms: they infantilize their favorite celebrities and act as if they are perfect. They project their dreams and wishes onto them (and their relationships sometimes) and they think they have the right to decide and know details about their private life.

They think sending letters and endless dms = normal. It's not.

[When a celebrity needs to block you because you are attacking their partner, you have a problem.]

They view those people as puppets. As if they have the right to know everything about them and be upset if they make their own decisions. If they disagree with their decisions, they treat them like kids (aka they're in denial) or get mad and so on...

[From roles and haircuts to personal life and vacations.]

Also, they think fans (not stans) who hold them accountable for mistakes or point out the obvious things (like PR, image strategies, paps walks) are haters.

Thirdly, Sebastian is an adult, who makes his own decisions, but the stans act as if he's a kid.

I totally love what you said: he won't look well rested or healthy again until he finds the courage and the self respect...

I pointed out he's been tired constantly for the last 2 years, and some stans made it sound as if I was hating on him and AW because I am jealous of her and I have some kind of obsession/parasocial relationship with him, when it's, indeed, just concern. Because he is pushing himself basically non-stop.

Like, it's his choice to do PR... (it's my opinion which can be wrong, ofc) since he's always been so warm -and his love language is touch- in his previous relationships even if they were private... and there is something off about his body language in general. And AW is known as a beard in Hollywood, which I don't judge. People do what they want...

And I don't feel sorry for him. I'm just worried he focuses too much on achieving things and he doesn't take care of himself and rest enough.

He wanted to have more power over his projects aka to produce (producing = freedom and control), so he agreed to sign with CAA (Creative Artists Agency).

Because even though he's American too, not just Romanian (he moved there when he was 12), he's still seen as a foreigner by the film industry.

It means Sebastian believes he still needs to prove himself to get awards. And getting an award is even harder in this case because no matter how much PR you do, how many paps walks you have, how hard working you are, how great you are at what you do, how much passion you put into your work and your roles, you're still (seen as) an outsider. I think this is why he chose to be a part of so many biopics.

[Don't get me wrong, I think the roles he chose and chooses are challenging (grey, with personality) and send a message in general. He always gets out of his comfort zone, which is incredible. But I feel like he driven by the urge to prove himself]

This is why I think the Silver Bear meant and means the world to him. And I wish he knew an Oscar wouldn't say anything about him as an actor... about his talent. Many incredible actors do not have one, and we know it's about politics there.

I recommend a good article on the subject:

[futuristicsaladparadise]

Enhancing Doll Brows

This is my guide to either enhancing or completely redoing an AG doll’s eyebrows. Several people have asked about this, and I hope it will be useful.

You will need: a doll, watercolor pencils in black, brown and white, cotton swabs (preferably the pointy makeup ones), a small amount of water, and setting spray. If you are removing the original brows, you’ll also need nail polish remover and a paper towel to wipe the color off. 

I use Mr. Super Clear from Amazon, specifically the matte UV Cut version, so it doesn’t dry shiny and protects the doll’s vinyl and paint from fading in sunlight. The watercolor pencils were from a cheap set I got at the craft store. Almost any brand will do, but make sure your pencils are sharp! (I had to sharpen my white and black after I took this photo.)

Next, you will need to prep your doll for her treatment. You can easily overspray and get the setting spray in the doll’s eyes and hair, and it makes the eyes cloudy and the hair dry and crunchy. To prevent this, I used a couple of long scraps to tie back and cover my subjects’ hair, and half a cotton ball taped down to protect their eyes. You want to make sure there is plenty of space to work around their brows, so you might notice that you can see the top of Lydia’s (known as Subject A for this post) eyelids. This is fine as long as the eyelashes are covered. 

Once ready, go outside and spray their faces with the setting spray, concentrating on the forehead. Be careful not to totally soak the face. All you want is a light dusting. Once it dries, you can always spray another layer if you don’t think the first one is sufficient. This preliminary spray makes a better surface for your pencils to grip. If you skip it, you may not be able to get any pigment on your doll’s face. Let dry for 20-30 minutes between layers.

Next, you will want to start filling in the brows with short, light strokes, from root to tip, in the direction of hair growth. You will likely want to practice with a pencil on paper first, if you haven’t done this before. 

This is after a handful of strokes on each brow. I usually begin with black, but I did Subject A’s left brow in brown first for illustration purposes. It doesn’t really matter which you start with. For me, brown is primarily a filler, unless I’m working on a doll I want to have paler brows. 

This is after some more lines in both black and brown, with a few (4-5) strokes of white to provide depth. 

If you make a mistake, use the water and a cotton swab/Q-tip to remove the errant mark and continue. You may have to remove everything you have done and start over. That’s okay. In this case, I didn’t like the white line at the bottom of her left eyebrow, so I wiped it off and re-drew the black and brown lines that were removed. 

Keep working until you are satisfied with the result, then set with another layer of setting spray. Your doll will look amazing!

It helps if you don’t immediately go to set the paint after you finish. Give it a few minutes, then go back and look to make sure it’s the look you want. I did this several times with mine, and I kept adding a few lines here and there until I was happy. If you spray it and then decide you don’t like it, you will have to use nail polish remover and it will wipe out the original paint along with your watercolor work.

New brows: These are much more difficult than simply filling in because you have no good indication of their shape and position.

Once you have removed the original ones with nail polish remover and done the preliminary spray, you can start sketching a guiding line. 

This image shows a couple of layers of short strokes, following the brow ridge. 

This was so, so hard for me in the beginning, one eyebrow would be perfect and the other would...not. At all. If you aren’t sure of your skills, you may want to get a practice head from eBay or somewhere to practice on until you feel ready to work on a “real” doll. 

More lines, going over the original work. As you can see, they aren’t quite the same, so I kept going, setting Subject B aside for awhile several times. I used black, then brown, and then a few white strokes. 

Set the paint afterwards with the setting spray.

Et voila! I’m not 100% happy with that right eyebrow, but I can go back and redo it some other time. 

[caesarflickermans]

Twenty Questions: Fic Author Edition

tagged by the lovely @thesweetnessofspring and @bodyelectric77 (my heart is warm for uuu <3)

1-How many works do you have on ao3?

Two (+ a deleted one)

2-What's your total AO3 word count?

89,860

3-What fandoms do you write for?

THG. I’ve been writing in it for ten years (RP before fic), and I much rather go into publishing before I move to any other fanfiction tbh.

4-What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

She smelled like white roses

Burning bright in the city of the night

5-Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Absolutely! I try to, at least! Sometimes I get so excited about a comment that I’ll leave it in my inbox for a few days just to get excited again. Especially with my first fic that is very niche in this fandom, I get insanely happy about the fact that people are interested in it enough that they comment on it.

6-What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

This is hard, as I’ve only really written two works. Burning bright comes the closest, even if the final sentence is more a relief than anything, but it is mysterious throughout. Depending on who readers think the stranger outside is, the entire story can either be very angsty or not angsty at all.

7-What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

SSLWR is technically not finished as it has a second longfic coming up, but it ends on a very happy note. I’ve had THE urge™ throughout the fic and even while planning to kill Virgilia off as a repeated circle notion, but it’s breaking the circle that is so vital. Even if she has succeeded in finding out the truth about the past wife (a mystery from the first chapter onward!), educated herself about our past, and found actual love that exists/is not a fairytale, it’s still not a character journey over. If anything, characters—and on a meta level people—like her deserve a happy ending. Even if just to show that there’s the chance to do a 180, no matter the situation. (Doesn’t mean the horrors aren’t awaiting her though 😊)

8-Do you get hate on fics?

No, and I’m kinda? Surprised lol? Like maybe it’s just that niche that you’d only click on it if you are at least semi-interested, but with the heavy subject matter I had expected some people being very critical of the content—the whole debate what belongs and doesn’t belong in (fan)fiction.

9-Do you write smut? If so what kind?

Sort of? SSLWR included a smut scene in ‘Queenside’. It was very flowery, though. So, yes, but it’s not a very descriptive scene. I wanted to stay true to V’s character and focus more-so on the emotional inner thoughts and meaning of having this moment. That said, of course this isn't the last time they will do it, especially with the next longfic including more romantic couplings, but I don't see the purpose of writing them out. The before and after seems much more important, so if I end up wanting to write it again, it will be similar to the first moment in what it did and did not mention.

10-Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Not in fanfiction, but I’ve done a lot of AUs for Caesar and Virgilia in RP context. Caesar has really been in any kind of popular media from the past decade to roleplay with people’s characters there. He’s been a Tyrell in ASOIAF, and he’s been a former show host in TLOU-like verses. My most used one is a modern AU where he lives in NYC as a late night host. As for Virgilia, it’s been much fewer and I don’t really set her in other media anymore. But she has several modern verses, among those one where she grew up in a FLDS-like cult and escaped eventually.

11-Have you ever had a fic stolen?

No

12-Have you ever had a fic translated?

No

13-Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

No

14-What's your all-time favorite ship?

I don’t really do ships outside of the ones I have; which are Caesar/Cinna, Cressida/Fulvia, and Virgilia/Plutarch. I also have two ships with my rp partner, @beedelia. The first is Caesar/Bedelia Du Maurier from H.annibal, and the second is the sole victor I'm shipping Caesar with; a middle aged victor from 7 who lost his eyesight in the arena.

15-What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

I only have one more WIP planned and it’s going to take some time, but I have confidence in it being finished. I do have some loose ideas about writing some one shots that detail more on tertiary characters, such as Paylor, but it’s nothing more than an idea. Would be in the same style as Tigris' one shot, so it's more a "once I really start, I don't think it will be abandoned".

16-What are your writing strengths?

I think I’m a good character writer. It’s a given coming from RP, but I think I can breathe life into the characters I write, and give them good story arcs. With Virgilia especially, I’m always baffled that people say they like her character or liked her journey, so I’d say that’s working quite well for me writing wise.

17-What are your writing weaknesses?

That I take a long time and overthink everything. I want my first draft to be really good, so I cannot settle for okay. I rewrite sentence and am generally slow because I want what’s coming out on the blank screen to be good. It doesn’t help that—obviously—I’m no native speaker, so my sentence structure or vocabulary is never going to be the best; I feel like both are fairly repetitive. I do try to use Merriam Webster a lot to spice it up, but it can only help so much. I’m also not sure how I’m doing pacing wise. Coming from RP, I was used a lot more to, say, 200-500 word replies where I was writing short scenes with someone else. Pacing was never a question here. But I feel like I’ve improved on this ever since I started writing longer stories.

18-Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It doesn’t happen in Panem, anyhow. As @bodyelectric77 has said, some headcanon that Spanish is spoken in District 4, but I don’t believe that the fascist government would want to keep any other language than English in its country, because it makes surveillance so much harder. But for a more general approach: I find it unnecessary. If the character doesn’t speak the language, then it’s essentially just a blank for them. Why should they know what the other is saying? If they do speak that language, then don’t build on the reader being able to speak it (or being bothered to look it up. Why do I need google translate for a fic, grr!). Just give me indirect dialogue then (“He said XYZ in Spanish”).

19-First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter back when I was 12 or so. Both in RP and fanfiction.

20-Favorite fic you've ever written?

She smelled like white roses. It’s my passion project. Though I’ve got a feeling that Birds of the Capitol (current WIP) is going to be my magnum opus in a way. Really encapsulating 10+ years of writing (RP/fanfiction) in this fandom. I’m excited, scared, nervous, thrilled. Everything.

Tagging: @mollywog, @lemonluvgirl, @thesmileykate, @districtunrest, @petruchio

[canyouhearthelight]

Nihilus Rex 8: Opener

Finally getting into the technical side of things, and I will attest: @baelpenrose and I decided that the next several chapters are probably the only time the really technical stuff happens on screen.

It was all, undoubtedly, an absolutely nightmare to get right, simply because I am a subject matter expert in one of the areas, he is in the other, and... yeah. It got complicated very quickly. But hopefully that pays off!

Say you have a little faith in me

Just close your eyes and let me lead

Follow me home

Need to have a little trust in me

Just close your eyes and let me lead

Follow me home

To where the lonely ones roam

Digital Daggers, “Where the Lonely Ones Roam” 

For the next handful of days, I heard from Nils sporadically.  The first couple of days consisted of just being updated that he was still alive, promises that he was eating something other than drugs and coffee, and one celebratory announcement that he had showered without drowning - which, admittedly, was kind of gross since that was around day three, but I didn’t have to smell it, so I left it alone.

It was around the fifth day that he sent me an address.  Not the hacker cafe, and nowhere in my neighborhood.  I was warned to bring my own coffee under threat of instant and strongly suggested to bring a change of clothes.  Part of me started to type back a quip about the kind of girl he thought I was, before sense won over and I deleted it.

“Not for anything weird - well, not for anything that isn’t our kind of weird, anyway. This is gonna take a while.” 

Totally reassuring, I thought as I started throwing stuff into my bum-around bag. Toothbrush, water bottle, battery bank for my phone… after a bit of consideration I tossed in extra socks, because there were few things I hated worse than wet socks.  Laptop and all its gear went into my backpack, and I headed to the front door.  Mama and Baba weren’t home from work, so I left a note taped to the fridge and one on my bedroom door just in case. Heading out to a friend’s for a school project. Probably going to be there overnight, took clothes just in case. I’ll have my phone. Love.

A bus, a subway trip, and a hour and a half later, I was walking to the address Nils had sent, suppressing the urge to look around suspiciously.  The address was in an area I generally avoided on foot, and if something brought me here I took a taxi - even if I was only going a couple blocks.  I muttered prayers to any deity listening as I arrived at the location, a tall building covered in graffiti, with what windows were still intact covered in makeshift grates or bars.

Nils was standing right outside, looking around for me, and spotted me as I approached, waving me over. He had slight circles under his eyes, and a slight five o’clock shadow, but he was intent, grinning slightly. “Lash, good to see you!” 

“Yeah, good to see you’re alive and I haven’t been getting messages from your ghost,” I joked drily before glancing around. “Although, I’m still not convinced I haven’t somehow taken a bus to some underworld. You do know my kidneys aren’t worth as much as you think, right? AB neg blood, terrible for donation.”

“I assure you you are more likely to be solicited for drug purchases or asked if you’ve considered sex work than you are to be black bagged and have your organs sold here. I say this having had both happen to me within a week of moving.” His voice was annoyingly casual. “I do apologize for the walk though. Come in, I made tea.”

My eyes widened. “Wait. ‘Moved’. You mean you live here?”

“I mean, we’re not doing the thing where I live. We are talking where I live. We’re doing the thing at this old mall that still has power where I set up a router in the crawlspace a while ago. But I figured we’d talk here first? But yeah, I live here.”

“Doing this thing at an old mall, cool, cool…” I responded, laughing in something like relief. “But you want to talk where you live. Which is here.” I waved a hand at the half blown-out street lights and nearby sewer grate before waggling it at the graffiti and boarded up windows. “You live here. Voluntarily.”

“My apartment has snacks. And coffee. And tea. If I leave those things in the shitty ‘Doing super illegal L33t Hacker Shit’ den I set up in an abandoned mall, my not-home evil lair gets overrun by vermin. So yeah, talk here. Probably come back here for like. Netflix or some shit to celebrate.” He paused for a beat. “Also, yes. I live here. Away from the really rich friends of my parents who would potentially see me and tell my family what shit I’m up to and what kind of trouble I’m getting into, then I hear about how much I’m screwing up our reputation, how could I be so ungrateful, blah, blah blah, it’s easier to stay as far away as possible from any of their friends. Besides,” he said, slowly. “This is a lot more real than anything I saw when I was a kid.” It felt like there was more he could say, but wasn’t going to - a refreshing change from how he’d been the last several days. 

“Your family, your cow, etc,” I muttered, looking around again and resisting the urge to wipe my hands off against my pants. “Still, I feel like I need to introduce you to our lord and savior ‘Any Deity Who Will Convince You Self-Flagellation is Not Penance’ or something.”  Before he could respond, I waved my hands in a shooing gesture. “Come on, let’s go inside and you can introduce me to your six-legged roommates.”

Ushering me forward with a comically formal sweep, Nils buzzed me into his building - I was honestly shocked it was needed, but it calmed me somewhat. We made our way up a couple flights of grungy-looking stairs, and I instantly felt guiltier the further we went: for all that the stairwell looked filthy, it was extremely well lit, bleach-scented, and not a single stair creaked thanks to what looked like various ages of patches.

The city may not care, but the residents certainly seemed to.

On the third floor, we exited the stairwell and made our way to a very nondescript door.  All three deadbolts and the hinges moved without a sound, and Nils stood to block my entrance, drawing himself to his full height, chin up. 

“Lash, O caller of bullshit, expert at puncturing egos, enter the portal to the domain of the greatest hacker and dumbest bitch of the age, and see if you can find a roach in sight, for nothing enters here without my permission. I am Nils Andover, lord of this tiny apartment and a terror of cyberspace. Enter, and enjoy my hospitality.” He spoke with a ridiculous faux-accent to top it off, which wasn’t quite British but might have been his attempt at doing a Victorian Crackhead. 

No amount of self control could keep me from giggling and cursing myself for doing so. I stepped through the door, surprised by how clean and pristine it was on the inside.  Still, I reminded myself that I brought spare socks as I toed my shoes off and set them beside the door before taking another step. “Masala chai?” I asked, sniffing carefully.

“You said become your Uncle’s best customer.” 

“Tch,” I clucked. “I did.” Suddenly, I realized what he said. “Wait,” I gasped, “you think Mr. Yildiz is my uncle??” I covered my mouth to hide a smirk.

Nils paused with embarrassment. “Maybe. You don’t seem the type to call people uncle unless they’re related by blood, marriage, or adoption, so…”

I managed to sit on the arm of the couch before gasping for air. “Nils… Oh my… hooo culture difference, okay…” With a more controlled breath, I composed myself.  Poor guy looked something like a wet cat in his confusion. “Lots of cultures use the term Uncle or Auntie as a term of respect. Something…less formal than Sir or Ma’am is the closest I can explain. So, he’s not my Uncle, he’s just Uncle. Every young person’s. Baba and Mama call him Brother, blah blah blah.”

The look of shocked embarrassment was replaced with complete comprehension. “Ah. Gotcha. That makes perfect sense. Sorry about that.” He blinked and absorbed that for a moment, setting a steaming cup of tea in front of me.

“Now, I’ve been reflecting on what you said, managed to look at what I’d have to do to get the liens out on homes, vehicles, and businesses. Will say this - there’s a little layer of complication for how they hold onto liens for state compliance. We can release most to the holders outright, but some of them its going to be required for us to release them to both the holders and to their city or county halls at the same time for archiving. That is, just barely, on this side of being possible.” 

He took a breath and waffled his hand as he took a sip from the tea. “The trick is that we have to have all the malware and spyware to do it ready to roll well in advance of the attack, and we have to be able to shoot it all in, operating, and releasing all liens simultaneous to the attack itself, to be able to use the attack as a smokescreen for what’s happening. If we do it before the attack, the bank can use physical records to re-upload the destroyed digital ones, and if we do it after, we’re going to cost a lot of innocent people their cars, homes, businesses.”

I was more shocked than I should have been that he thought it through to such a degree.  Yes, I had practically screamed this at him less than a week ago.  No, I was not used to people actually listening to a word I said.  It was kind of flatt - no.

Sounding somewhere between exhausted and frustrated, he added. “There’s…probably a lot of reasons this hasn’t been tried, to be honest. Did I mention that even if this goes right we need to be able to punch in, get the worms loaded, and then databomb the shit out of everything within a few minutes?”

“Oh, joy…” I responded with what I hoped was very clearly fake enthusiasm before draining my tea and grabbing my bum-bag to dig through it. Without looking up, I admitted my shortcomings. “I don’t think you and I can make that happen in… what, twenty-five, thirty minutes?”

“Twenty.”

“Even better,” I grunted as I grabbed my thermos. Unscrewing it, I refilled my cup with high octane ambrosia before offering it to Nils. “No matter how good you are, I don’t think the two of us are going to make that happen in twenty minutes.”

Nils took the coffee and sipped, smiling slightly. “Yeah. There’s someone in my network who may have an in, if only because he’s worked on and off at vendor sites in a lot of banks, but I’m not sure how down he’d be with the overall plan. He’s really good, but he tends to avoid extremely high-risk stuff. Rather keep the “racist hicks as pawns” bit out of it, when we talk to him. And if there’s anyone in your network who might be able to join, I’m open to suggestions. The QAnon cannon fodder stays between us.”

I thought it over. “There is… well, I’ll admit. He’s older, one of those ‘I wrote the internet’ types, so the social con part probably won’t go over well, but thankfully he likes knowing as little as possible outside of what he needs to do.  I’ll reach out to him, worst case, we have double the help.” 

“Let’s see whose guy answers first?” Nils said, not really asking and already picking up his phone.

I had the good grace to take a deep inhale of caffeinated goodness before savoring the flavor.  Then I grabbed my phone and messaged Bishop.  Nils’ got a response before I had even typed the message, but I chalked that up to my habit of messaging Bishop more details than most, knowing he wouldn’t go to the police if he turned down the job.  The man had a whole ass hydroponic set up in his basement, and I’d seen it - he wasn’t going to the cops on me unless I killed someone.

“Lash, is there some reason you and Nothing are messaging me on the same day, at the same time, about what I’m pretty sure is the same job?” 

I didn’t move my head, but looked through my eyelashes at Nils, who wasn’t showing any signs of being called out. Carefully, I texted back. “I didn’t know you were acquainted.  Now I’m intrigued. U n or not?”

“I didn’t know you two were acquainted. And I’m in mostly to see what that’s going to look like, Baklava.” 

“Did you already tell Nothing?”

“Yeah, I told Creampuff I needed to see this. I’ll be there in ten. Try not to blow anything up between the two of you before I get there. And if you brought coffee, save me 2.”

I smirked and slowly screwed the cap on my thermos. “My guy will be here soon. He’s pretty excited.”

“Mine’s on his way, should be here in ten.” Nils paused. “He seemed more concerned.”

Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, I reminded myself. “I have dirt on my guy, so I’ll admit I gave him more info up front than I do most.” Seven more minutes…

“Yeah, makes sense. So, in the meantime, uh. If I were to order pizza, anything you’d want on it? It’s uh. Gonna be a long day and we’re gonna want something to eat.” 

“Small with anchovies,” I said automatically. “I’ll eat it in the hall, don’t worry about the smell.”

“Absolutely the fuck you will not - you’re a guest. I’ll handle the smell if it’s a problem.” Nils was smiling, faintly again, as he pulled up the Mountain Mike menu. 

“I am going to guess you’ve never been in the vicinity of an anchovy pizza, so when you change your mind, let me know.” I was used to it… as much as I loved the opportunity to have one, I was well aware of how long the smell clung to anything in the room for days at a time.

“I have not, it is the principle of the thing.” He moved, clearly feeling awkward. “We don’t have much to do but kill time until he gets here, so like. What do you do for fun?”

“First, if it’s not too late: order extra lemon wedges with whatever you can,” I added. Least I could do. “Second… I watch a lot of anime, doodle, and sit on a bridge scaring people into thinking I’m a jumper.  There really isn’t anything else, unless you consider a semi-unhealthy relationship with music.”

“Requesting a few lemon wedges. I also watch a lot of anime, listen to a ton of music, sometimes a bit of gaming. Not a lot of fun in person, to be honest. Used to have a friend I’d hang out with, but you met me the day of that funeral, so, yeah, I’m fairly boring now.” He leaned back on the couch and offered me the spot further away from him, presumably to make me more comfortable. “How’d you get into voice acting?” 

“Deliberately,” I surrendered, looking mournfully at my thermos and wishing I had brought a larger one. “It took a ton of effort and practice, and a lot of voicing my own animations - “ I was cut off by the buzzing of someone requesting entrance. Bishop? Or Nils’ person? It wasn’t nearly long enough to be the actual food.

Nils buzzed the person in, and within a few minutes, there was a knock at the door. Nils opened it and grinned. “Harvey, been a while. You’ve been quiet. It’s good to see you again man.”

Bishop was standing there, glowering between the two of us. “So. One more time. Why the fuck are you two hanging out, and what are you contacting me for?”