#since our framing manager was one of the ones who left recently

[oflgtfol]

i feel like im gonna wind up sayin yes to being a manager but atm im still like. So hesitant. but i know myself and i probably will eventually wind up saying yes

[gucciwins]

a talk show and a surprise 

word count: 1827

a/n: okay, don’t know if you’ve seen haley lu richardson being surprised by nick jonas on FaceTime during an interview and it gave me this idea, and it’s something short and sweet i hope you enjoy, mis amores 

_____

Talk shows were not your specialty, in your opinion. It felt weird talking to a host and having a live audience told to react at different cues. After appearing in the second season of The White Lotus, there was promo to do as expected. Still, there was a new population of fans following your Instagram tripling your following weeks since the show premiered. Your content was being shared as fans deemed you “real” for posting after-running selfies, photos of you cuddling your parent’s corgi they got after all their children left home. Their favorite was a video of you crying on your living room floor to “fine line” as it played on your record player.

It’s a video that managed to be shared thousands of times. To top it off, your best friend decided to offer them a new treat by posting a video of you at Harry’s Wembley show, happily dancing in the rain. The video ended with you pointing to the stage, screaming that you loved Harry Styles. You were obviously a fan, but your paths never crossed, not that you were surprised you still felt like you were getting your footing on what stardom meant. While Harry literally had the entire world charmed.

Bee assured you it would be fine; a few questions, a few stories, and it would be over. She prepared you for the mention of Harry because hosts loved the views and a good clickbait. It wasn’t your first time and would definitely not be your last. Jimmy Fallon was an angel, and you would be fine.

“Welcome our guest for the night, Y/N Y/LN.”

You walk out dressed in a beautiful black velvet mini dress. It features a lace bib with scalloped trim, diamonte piping, and satin bows. It had a flowing mini-length skirt with romantic blouson sleeves. You loved it from the moment you put it on and knew the crowd would eat it up as well.

Jimmy welcomed you with a hug and gestured for you to take a seat on the couch. “It’s great to have you here, Y/N.”

“Well, thanks for having me.”

Jimmy laughs going on to share about your past works and how you are a well-loved guest on the show.

“White Lotus is just amazing. You’re an absolute stand-out.”

You laugh, trying not to get too flustered as the audience cheers loudly for you. “Thank you. I have had the absolute best time. There’s nothing better than getting to film with Aubrey Plaza and Jennifer Coolidge.”

“While in Italy,” Jimmy adds on.

“The cherry on top.”

Jimmy leans closer, “now tell me, were you even a little bit nervous.”

“Oh, I was a mess. I was sure they cast the wrong person, but Bee, my manager, assured me that they thought I was the perfect fit.” You shared thinking back to when you first heard you got the role.

“Heard Aubrey Plaza got you a gift.”

You laugh, shaking your head as he brings out a photo of you with a signed headshot of Aubrey. “A little birdy told her I was a fan. There was a note that said: Now you don’t have to be nervous around me.”

“That’s amazing.”

“It’s framed in my house.” You share. Not at all lying. “The cast was so welcoming. There was not one bad day. Aubrey really took me under her wing, and yeah, one of my best experiences ever.”

Jimmy holds a hand over his heart, “that’s amazing to hear. It can be seen through the show, so if you haven’t watched it, you can head over to HBO Max and watch the talented Miss Y/N Y/N and the rest of the cast. We’ll be right back.”

After a short break you spent with Jimmy laughing and having your lipstick touched up, the cameras were ready to roll.

“Now, Y/N, I was told you love concerts.”

You nod, “I live and breathe them, Jimmy.”

“Who have you seen recently?”

“Oh too many, my good friend Phoebe Bridgers, Haim, oh Wolf Alice was wonderful recently in Los Angeles. My social media is a surface level of the few I’ve gone to this year. I drag my friends to different shows all the time. They love it. It’s the easiest place to fall undetected. At least I don’t think I’m famous enough to be recognized,” you joke, knowing it’s relatively easy to blend in a crowd when you are not the main star.

“Come on now, all these fans in the audience would say otherwise.”

The chant for you is loud, and you take a moment to take it all in. You’re quick to undermine your talent, but it’s clear that you have an audience that loves you.

“Now, what do you have to say about that?” Jimmy smiles, sensing how the cheers made you tuck into yourself for a moment before you began to blow kisses to the fans, thanking them endlessly.

“It’s surreal. Something I definitely don’t take for granted.”

The interview has been moving on smoothly, Jimmy asking you questions about the show and a few about your childhood. You're thankful he doesn’t have new childhood pictures of you to show. Your mother does that proudly on her Instagram.

“Now, you know we have to talk about this viral video of you.”

“Oh no,” you gasp.

Jimmy and you turn to look at a screen playing the video of you standing in one of Wembley’s boxes, dancing to Harry Styles as he sings to a sold-out stadium. It was a special day because your best friend surprised you with tickets that Bee helped her get. You had been working when tickets went on sale and were heartbroken to hear they were sold out nights. Thankfully, Bee has enough connections that she managed to get you tickets

“That is you at a Harry Styles show.”

You feel your face warm, hoping this interview will never reach him. “Looks like me.”

Jimmy shakes his head, “was that your first time?”

“Nope! It definitely won’t be my last,” you share honestly.

He shakes his head, “I’ve been to my fair share, and boy does he put on a hell of a show.”

“He really does. He’s created such a wonderful environment for many I’ve never experienced anything like it.”

Jimmy grins mischievously, “I have a little surprise for you.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, “is it a mug with his face on it?”

The audience and Jimmy laugh. You’re too distracted and don’t notice Jimmy’s hand going under his desk until he calls your name. You’re met with a phone, and the shock quickly sets in.

“Hi, love.” A familiar accent you recognize instantly.

You look away from the phone pointed at you, instead bury your face in your hands as the audience's laugh rings loud. Harry’s laugh is the only one that stands out for you.

“That’s–hi,” you manage to breathe out, not believing that Harry was on a facetime call to you. You look around and manage to find Bee on the side. “Is this real?” You ask her, pointing to the phone.

She gives you a big grin and thumbs up. You can’t believe it.

“Are you surprised?” Jimmy questions, clearly knowing the answer.

“A bit,” you express breathlessly.

All the cameras are pointed your way, and you have to face him. Harry’s smiling, and you feel yourself melting in your seat as you can see his dimples clearly. This is not real. Your celebrity crush is not staring at you through what seems like your phone the close you look at it.

“Hi Harry,” you give him a small wave.

“How you doing, love?”

“Good, good. A tad bit embarrassed. Trying to remember how to breathe.”  

Harry laughs at your response.  “Oh, I’m sorry.”

Jimmy cuts in, knowing you’d probably stare at the phone all day, not wanting to hang up on Harry. “Harry has something he wanted to say.”

His green eyes shine bright, and you know he’s enjoying this conversation with you. “I just finished White Lotus.”

“Shut up! You did not!”

Harry nods, “absolutely did. My band and I would get together to watch it every Sunday. Gave us something to relax over during the tour. You were my favorite,” he confesses.

“Me?” You point to yourself. “This is not real.”

“I hope you can come to a show next year. I would love to meet you?”

“I’m there,” you promise him without a second thought.

Harry nods, “good, we’ll be in touch.”

“Can I tell you something before you go?” You look at Jimmy, then back at Harry.

“This is your call, Y/N. Go ahead.” Jimmy grins, urging you on.

“Harry, thank you. I know I can say that you are an absolutely amazing person. Thank you for creating such a welcoming and safe environment at your concerts. It, in some ways, feels like coming home. I mean, you surely didn’t have to do this, but you did, and I’m so thankful. You’ve always shared your kindness with the world from when you were just a teen to now, and it just goes to show how true and honest your character is. Send my love to your Mom. She truly raised a wonderful human being.”

The crowd awes, not having expected such an emotional confession, and neither were you, but you weren’t sure at the next opportunity you would have to tell him. Harry stares at you for a few seconds with flushed cheeks and a timid smile.

“Thank you, Y/N. That is so kind of you to say. I do hope we get to meet soon. I know we’d get on fabulously. All the best to you. Good night, Jimmy. Good night, Y/N.”

Harry hangs up the facetime, and you bring your hands to your face, not believing what just happened. That did not feel real. You hoped, looking back at it, you wouldn’t cringe with embarrassment.

“That happened,” Jimmy jokes.

You reach forward and grasp Jimmy’s hand tightly. “You are my favorite person.”

“After Harry Styles, right?”

You throw your head back and laugh. “Obviously.”

____

After the surprise of a lifetime, you ended the interview and walked to your dressing room, where you tried to process what in the hell happened in the last half hour. Bee walks in with the proudest smile handing you back your phone.

“We’ll head out at twenty.”

You take the time to slip off your heels and rest on the couch, unlocking your phone and seeing you have three new messages. It’s all from a new contact that you know you did not have before today.

Harry S.

It was lovely chatting with you.

Heard you’re going to be in London in a few days, would love to get dinner with you.

This is Harry, by the way.

Yeah, it seemed your life was about to get very interesting.

[ithebookhoarder]

Javier Peña req (and Steve as bestie). Y/n is their partner and is feeling extremely burnt out; running on empty, coffee, cigarettes and not much else. She’s barely sleeping or eating and constantly has a tight chest and racing heart. They both know something is up with her but she just shrugs it off until one day, Javi is out on a raid and she reaches her breaking point. Steve manages to get her home but can’t reach Javi until he gets back to the embassy etc. Also, please could you throw in a little Carrillo cause😍

Burned Out (Javier Peña x F!Reader)

A/N: I’ve missed Narcos and my DEA boys, so thank you for this prompt, whoever sent this in. I really appreciate it. I’ve been in a bit of a slump recently with writing for this blog, so it’s great to have something to focus on and pour myself in to - hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, alcohol, reference to depressive / self destructive behaviour, description of a panic attack, mild smut, canon-typical violence, death, reference to drugs / overdosing. 

Masterlist

You knew exactly when it started. When you began to feel yourself beginning to sink downwards into the quicksand that was your life. 

It was a bad day… well, a worse day, if you were being honest, given that life in general in Bogota was hard and full of bad days that left you feeling numb inside. Whereas you were normally able to banish the darkness by spending time with the friends you had collected since your arrival to the city, not even Javi’s gentle kisses or Steve’s dirty jokes or Connie’s homemade deserts could do the trick. 

The day had been bad for many reasons.

One, you’d lost a contact with direct links to Escobar, that you’d spent weeks working on. 

Two, you had lost them in a drive-by shooting that had killed not only them but countless civilians too. 

Three, some of your asshole colleagues decided to spill coffee all over your files meaning you were forced to work late to re-type them up for a briefing the following morning. Even though you had got it done, you knew you had likely missed some details, the ink far too smudge to even begin to try and understand what had previously been written. 

However, that day had only been the start of it. The start of the downwards spiral you found yourself tumbling into. 

Sure, the others had noticed there was a change about you. Yet, it wasn’t as if they knew what was causing it or how to fix it. 

Javi especially knew what you were like - you were like him after all. Spilling your guts wasn’t your natural reaction to handling things. You kept your emotions bottled up inside of you, cramming more and more in, forcing that lid to remain firmly screwed in place even as the pressure began to build. 

And if the lid did threaten to pop off? Well then, you lost yourself in him. In the love that existed between you, and the intimate knowledge you shared of one another. After all, Javi had said it himself, “who needed therapy when you had sex and good whiskey?” 

A night of passionate fucking was all it took to take the edge off… to let a little pressure escape, delaying your inevitable eruption… But that was just it; you would erupt. It was inevitable. There was no way on earth you could sustain the relentless routine of long hours spent at work, with coffee doing its best to act as a replacement for your bed. 

Hell, you could feel the toll it was taking on you both mentally and physically, from the way your hands shook slightly, to the way your chest felt too tight to breathe sometimes. Then there was the fact your clothes were starting to get baggy, whereas they’d once clung to your frame like they’d been tailored for you. 

“Here,” Javi had smiled one afternoon. You could smell the sandwich in his hand before he even set it down on the desk in front of you, accompanied by a packet of chips and a can of your favourite soda. “Grabbed that for you on our way back. Figured you’d forget lunch - again.” 

A weak smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the kind gesture. “Thanks, Javi.” 

“Anytime, hermosa.” He said it so calmly and easily that you felt your heart skip a beat as you realised how lucky you were to have someone who cared about you so deeply. It was why you made sure to tear a corner off of the sandwich and pop it in your mouth. 

The relieved nod Javi granted you told you it was the reaction he’d been waiting for, as he took a step back to let you finish eating and working in peace. 

You knew he’d be back to check you’d finished it in a matter of minutes. So, you were quick to chuck the rest of his lunch in the waste paper bin behind you, burying it further under a pile of discarded documents you’d already finished looking through. 

It was fine. You’d eat later. Maybe you’d even try and cook dinner for you and Javi… an apology for being so distant lately… 

Somehow, despite lacking the gift of prophecy, you knew deep down that that was unlikely to happen. Just as you knew it was unlikely Javi would even make it home tonight. For the last week straight, both he and Steve had been called out on some last minute, late night errands by Carillo - not that you minded all that much. 

Not having Javi’s arms to fall into meant you felt less guilty about working late yourself. About only making it back to your empty apartment long enough for a quick shower and a power nap each night. 

It was ironic to think of Carillo, though, given that your brief conversations with the Colonel in question had been the closest you’d come to finally releasing some of the hurt and the pain inside of you. 

You didn't know what it was about him, but somehow, the Colonel had an ability to draw you out. To make you open up and share things you would never otherwise dream of. 

Maybe it was his candour? You’d noticed that about him since you'd started working together; he had a blunt demeanour, saying what he thought regardless of the affect it could have on another person. 

Now, it wasn't done with malice, per say, but rather as the result of a man who had the weight of an entire army on his shoulders and an impossible task. He just didn't have the time to bullshit anyone - especially when you both lived in a city full of people all too willing to lie and cheat. 

It also came from a weird sense of respect, of seeing people as equals, deserving of the truth just as he expected the same in return. No matter how painful it may be.

Needless to say, it was one of the reasons you'd grown to respect the man - and dare you even say, like. 

Still, when he decided to loiter on the other side of your desk, late one night, you felt yourself stiffen, as if suddenly all too aware of every little gesture your body made and what it gave away.

The Colonel missed nothing.  

“You look like shit.”

Wow. Don’t beat around the bush. 

“Jeez, your wife married a charmer, Colonel,” you scoffed, dragging on your cigarette, sparing him a fleeting glance. “Speaking of, doesn’t she want you back home? Or do you prefer my company that much that you’d rather stand at my desk at 11 o’clock at night?” 

“She’s out of the city, visiting her parents,” he rebuffed, clearly not taking the bait as he dropped into the empty seat opposite. In fact, he decided to reach across and steal one of the cigarettes from the packet on your desk, lighting it for himself in a gesture that made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere for now.  

“Good for her.”

“Yes, it is. I think time away from this place is good for everyone.” 

You could feel the accusation lacing his words, as well as the heat from his continuous stare. “Then why didn’t you go with her? Not enough vacation days?” 

He scoffed, a bitter smirk twisting his lips upwards. “You’re funny; I can see why Peña likes you so much. Like calls to like, as they say, even if you try and hide it behind that smile of yours.” 

You bit back a laugh. “What can I say? I lucked out in that department and got my Mom’s smile. My sister was not so fortunate. She always had my dad’s features - meaning she looked more often than not like she was sucking on a lemon.” 

“This is the sister that died from an overdose, correct?”

“Yes.” 

“The anniversary is this week, is it not?” 

He asked it so calmly and casually that anyone would have thought he’d asked you what the weather was like outside, or what your favourite record to listen to was. 

At least his concern now made sense. It was the kind of detail he would remember, and you were honestly more surprised by the fact it had taken until now for him to bring it up. 

He’d probably been itching to ask you about it all day, aware of the date even if your two partners were not. Well, they might have been, but neither had said anything which was your preference if you were being honest. Hence your rapidly cooling demeanour towards your colleague. 

“I’m fine, if that’s what you're trying to fish about for, Colonel,” you sighed, staring back down at your desk again in an attempt to dismiss him. “You don't have to worry about me. I’m good. Thanks. So can I get back to work in peace? Or did you have some other question for me?” 

Carillo sighed, simply choosing to smoke his cigarette, letting the tension linger along with the steadily growing haze around you both. 

He didn't need to say the words aloud; his actions did all the talking for him as he reached over and helped himself to a file off of you desk. 

He didn't buy this ‘calm, cool, and collected’ act you were pedalling. Not for a second - something his stare alone gave away, even if he refused to say it. Instead, he chose to read, and work, and smoke along side you so that you would not be alone. 

He had his eyes on you... watching and waiting for the moment that your carefully constructed walls came crashing down... the only question was would they crush you in the process?

It was about a month later that the inevitable happened; that you finally hit rock bottom. 

It had just been a causal remark that did it, of all things. A casual remark that sent you tipping over the edge. 

You had just returned from lunch and hadn’t even sat back down at your desk yet when you noticed that someone was missing.  

“Yo, Steve?” you queried, quickly glancing up at the empty seat next to you. “Where did Javi go?” 

Now, you couldn't be a hundred percent certain what Steve said next but you knew he’d said something about Carillo, a lead, and a raid ... 

“What?”

“I said, Javier went with him,” Steve repeated, staring at you with growing concern. You realised he must have already repeated himself. “What? Why? What is it?” 

“Javi went too? He… he’s there? On that raid?” 

“Yes, y/n, that’s what I just said - hey! Where you going?” 

You didn’t even realise your feet had started moving, not until you heard Steve’s confusion as he yelled after you. 

But you didn't stop.

You couldn’t stop, not until you were outside - not until you were far enough from that place that you could actually stop and fucking breathe. 

When did it become so hard to breathe? 

When had the room become so small? 

Why did your mind suddenly feel the need to go to the darkest place possible? 

It was just a raid... one of hundreds Javi had gone on since arriving here in the country, just as you had also gone on your fair share. So why was your head suddenly picturing him... lying there... injured, or worse... dead. 

The number of bodies you’d stared at, lying in the streets in a macabre tableau that had become all too familiar by now - all part of this fucking job. A job you signed up for, hoping to vanquish the bastards who had taken so much from you and those you loved… yet, every day, it seemed you had failed as more and more innocent people suffered… and to think, that Javi - the man you loved more than anything - who you had neglected terribly to the point you couldn't actually remember the last time you’d woken up next to each other - could be amongst them… 

It brought you to your knees. 

“Whoah, y/n. Easy. What’s wrong?” 

Steve’s voice sounded distant, as if you have been submerged beneath water. Yet, you could tell he was beside you, dropping down onto the kerb before hauling you close. The warmth of his touch was enough to tether you to him, to reality, as everything around you seemed to spin in dizzying circles.

You could feel it as his hands rose, cupping your cheeks, turning your head and trying to get you to look at him. 

When you finally did, he could see immediately that your eyes were glassy, like you weren’t really seeing or hearing him. 

He knew that look. 

“Y/N,” Steve murmured in a soothing voice. “Y/N, look at me. Look at me.” 

He paused, waiting until your eyes trained themselves on his face, some of the cloudiness starting to dissipate. 

“Good, that’s good. Now breathe. Just breathe,” he instructed, taking a few deep breaths himself to show you how.

It took you a moment or two, but you eventually became fully aware of your surroundings and what your friend was telling you to do. 

Following his lead, you took a few shuddering breaths, then a few more. You kept breathing until you could feel the racing of your heart slow and the fear that had felt crippling just moments before begin to ease.

You were exhausted.

Wiping at your face, you tried to banish the tears that had left a salty trail burning down your cheek.

Steve doesn't say anything for a long minute, instead choosing to pull you into his side and light up a cigarette, which he was quick to offer you.

“T... thank you.”

You sat like that for a while... just watching people and cars passing by, smoking like two people on a perfectly ordinary break.

No one bothered to stop and ask you two questions. Hell, no one even shot a glance in your direction, everyone too busy with their own business to stop and give a shit about yours.

So you sat. 

And smoked. 

And said nothing... not until the cigarette was nothing more than a stub.

Steve was quick to take it from you, before it could burn your fingers. Tossing it aside, it had clearly served its purpose. 

He stood and offered you a hand. 

His face left no room for debate as he stated calmly, “Come on, I’m taking you home. Now.” 

“Come on. A couple more steps, Y/N,” Steve urged, guiding you up the stairs to your apartment. 

His hand was warm, firm even, as it pressed against your lower back. 

He’d been like this since the moment you’d left the embassy, steering you and hovering over you like he expected you to simply topple over at the slightest breeze. 

It was touching, yet irritating all at once - a sentiment you were too busy trying to put one foot in front of the other to even attempt to unpack. You were also just too goddamn tired. 

“Here we are.” Steve’s words startled you. “Home sweet home.” 

You didn’t remember giving him the keys, but you must have as he opened the door a second later and herded you inside. 

There was emotion in your throat - threatening to spill from you. You were holding on by a thread and he knew it. Just as Carillo knew it, and possibly Connie too - 

Wait, Connie?

You blinked as you realised that at some point the woman had also entered your home, most likely having been summoned by Steve on the drive home. 

You wanted to feel guilty at the thought of her being dragged into your mess, but you were honestly too tired to feel anything other than grateful as she hurried over to you, offering you a cup of what you assumed was tea, as well as two pills. 

To help take the edge off, she explained, urging you to take them. Doctor’s orders. 

It was impossible to miss the way that they were both staring at each other - sharing anxious glances as you swallowed the tablets and dutifully sipped the tea. 

They were worried about you. Hell, you were worried about you, and Javi, and Steve, and everyone else you loved and cared about - that was what had got you in this mess in the first place. 

Damn it.

You heard them say as much as you marched yourself to your bedroom, claiming you were going to try and get some rest whilst you waited for news. 

If they bought it, you couldn’t tell, but neither protested as you left them. 

They simply let you go, allowing you the space and privacy to crawl into your bedroom, bury yourself in the unmade sheets, and lie down for a while. The medication had clearly started to work as you felt heavy... tired... 

Lying there, you could hear their voices... faint murmurs drifting down the hall. 

You caught only snippets as they tried and failed to keep their voices down, just as your parents had once done when you were just a kid. Still, despite their efforts, you caught enough to know that there was still no word from Javi, or about the raid he went on. 

“-called Javi- no reply.”

“Carillo - try again -”

“-worried about her - stressed.” 

Eventually, the words began to fade away, replaced instead by your body's sudden need to sleep. It was pointless to fight the drugs now in your system, or the comfort of being wrapped in the bed sheets that still smelled of Javi... not even you were strong enough to fight it as you felt yourself drifting off into sweet oblivion.

"Sweetheart?"

You must have still been dreaming - that was the thought that crossed your mind as you swore you heard Javi's voice.

"Javi?" you moaned, fighting against the grogginess that greeted you as you tried to open your eyes.

Despite the fact it was clearly now dark out, you could easily make out the face in front of you, illuminated from behind by the bedside lamp. The sight was almost angelic - as if some divine being had deigned to answer your prayers and return the love of your life back in to your arms.

“It's ok, I'm here, sweetheart,” Javi purred again, brushing your hair back behind your ear and pulling you close. “I’m right here, ok? In one piece - promise. The raid went off without a hitch. Even snagged ourselves a new asset for you to take a crack at.”

Your eyes shimmered with tears as you quickly burrowed into his chest. You didn't really hear what he was saying, too busy focusing on the fact that he was here to say it at all - here - alive - in your arms. 

The reality hit you as you began to let it pour out of you: how relieved you were, how much you loved him. You also grumbled something about fucking telling you when he next decided to run off on a raid without so much as 'goodbye' - else you’d shoot him yourself. 

“I’m sorry, carino. I am.”

And you believed him. 

"I love you, Javi. So much."

"I love you too," he purred, "and I'm so sorry, I knew you were struggling, but when Steve told me-"

He didn't get to finish whatever the hell he'd been about to say. You didn't let him.

Instead, your lips surged hungrily towards his and as only Javi could, he kissed you back, soft and slow... as if desperate to reassure you through actions alone.

You felt him chuckle into your mouth as you grew impatient, grinding your hips against him in a silent plea for him to fill you. To join you. To bury himself, and the day you'd both had, in a moment of bliss.  

It was a special kind of neediness, reserved for just him, and one that was only sated once he had fully joined with you, as one being. Safe. Whole.

Yes, in an ideal world he would have waited until after talking to you to lose himself in such a way. After all, Steve and Connie had filled him in on the troubling turn of events that his absence today had triggered - and he'd be lying if he said the idea didn't scare him shitless, that you had broken down so completely...

He could only thank God that Steve had been there for you - especially when he couldn't be himself.

But he was here now... and you had time to start trying to make sense of this mess. Together. Carillo had assured him of that, informing him in no uncertain terms that you both had the next few days off from work. He didn't want to see either one of you back in the office until you'd begun to sort through the mountain of shit you were buried under.

So, yes. If you wanted to lose yourself for tonight, to use him to forget the world outside for a perfect moment, then he was only too happy to oblige.

He’d wait until the morning to have a proper conversation. 

He’d go down and whip you up some breakfast before trying to get you to open up to him about everything that had happened today… about the worries and concerns you’d been keeping locked away inside of you. 

Then, after you’d fallen in to pieces in his arms, he could try and start to put you back together again. As a team.

[nitrateglow]

Spooky Season 2024: 6-11

Targets (dir. Peter Bogdanovich, 1968)

Targets follows two parallel stories that eventually intertwine. The first involves elderly horror star Byron Orlock (Boris Karloff), disillusioned with his professsion and the real-world violence around him, and intent on retiring from film. The second involves Bobby (Tim O'Kelly), a disturbed young man obsessed with guns who goes on a murder spree. Both points converge at the drive-in premiere of Orlock's newest film.

Targets caught me offguard. The violence in the story involves a mass shooter and so it has a lot of real-world parallels. The killings are presented in a matter of fact way, without spectacle or blood geysers. It makes all of it feel more real and upsetting, especially since we've seen our share of Bobby-like killers over the decades.

My youngest sister watched this one with me and kept calling Karloff's character "Babygirl" and that isn't wrong. Though crabby and cynical, Byron is really charming and likeable. The arc he undergoes is really powerful, particularly as it pertains to his relationship with his secretary Jenny (Nancy Hsueh).

Though the tensions of the late '60s are a major part of Targets, it also deals with the gulf between the old school horror movies represented by Orlock and the more violent fare of the dawning New Hollywood era. I feel like there are just so many layers here. I really need to rewatch it. It's a fascinating movie and I would highly recommend it.

The Phantom of the Opera (dir. Dwight H. Little, 1989)

Modern singer Christine Day (Jill Schoelen) is sent back in time to a previous life as an aspiring opera singer in 1880s London. Her mentor is Erik Destler (Robert Englund), a disfigured composer who made a deal with the devil that left him immortal and embittered. He also has a habit of skinning people and then stitching the flesh on his ugly ass face. The opera management wants to build up another diva's career at the expense of Christine's. Erik doesn't like this. People start getting killed.

The 1989 The Phantom of the Opera is such a mixed bag, but I enjoy it anyway. The script is a mess. It frames the story with this weird time travel/reincarnation/isekai plot that doesn't add up to anything. It introduces interesting concepts-- like the relationship between Christine and Erik reflecting Erik's own deal with the devil-- without fleshing them out. Also-- and if Letterboxd is anything to go by, I'm in the minority-- I'm not crazy about Jill Schoelen's Christine, though I think that's more due to the way Christine is written than how she plays the role.

But then you have the glorious production design, stagebound but dripping in gothic candlelight and late Victorian grime. Best of all, you get Robert Englund's Erik Destler, one of the best onscreen Phantoms of all time.

I love how Englund's Erik is both an excitable schoolboy, almost squealing with delight while Christine kills it at Faust, and a violent, vengeful monster who doesn't take his will being defied lightly. I like the skin-grafting angle for the mask and that Erik ventures out into the London underworld at night. These are all fresh elements and I wish they could have been combined with a tighter, more focused script.

Still, this is a fun movie.

Murders in the Zoo (dir. A. Edward Sutherland, 1933)

A zoologist (Lionel Atwill) is pathologically jealous of his younger wife (Kathleen Burke), and so starts killing any perceived rival to his possession of her. Very pre-code violence ensues.

I'm going to be blunt: this movie did not live up to the hype. A lot of pre-code fans vouch for it as the nastiest horror film of the era. That is likely true. The first thing we see is a man getting his mouth sewed shut, a bit of nastiness that would shock in a recent film, let alone one from 1933. There are some gruesome killings throughout.

Too bad the story is sluggish and dull. There's a lot of corny comic relief that stops the action dead. The direction is flat. It's definitely not a movie I can see myself revisiting. There's barely anything there to sustain interest beyond the occasional creative murder-- no atmosphere, no anything.

Other than the murders, the only thing that stood out to me was Kathleen Burke as the tragic wife of the crazy zoologist. Burke is best remembered as Lota the Panther Woman in Island of Lost Souls. Her career fizzled out quickly, which is a shame because she has great presence and no shortage of talent.

The Black Room (dir. Roy William Neill, 1935)

In a Tyrolean town, an ancient prophecy swears that the ruling house will be destroyed when twins are born and the younger brother kills the older. So when the baron is presented with twin sons, he does everything he can to prevent the prophecy, such as sealing up the Black Room where the murder is supposed to occur. The boys grow up different as can be: the older brother Gregor (Boris Karloff) is cruel and sensual, abusing the locals and his own power, while the younger Anton (also Karloff) is gentle and kind. Despite his twin's sweet nature, Gregor is still concerned for his life and his continued domination of the town. He hatches a devious plan to cheat fate, but can he?

For some reason, I thought I had seen this movie long ago, but apparently not. What a delightful gothic story this is! It's filled with all the old school tropes played straight: an ancient prophecy, a lecherous nobleman preying on innocent maidens, a torture chamber filed with corpses, a dark and gloomy castle. There is a subtle sense of grim humor throughout, but it never descends into parody when it easily could have.

If you've ever doubted Karloff's capabilities as an actor, this movie should remedy that opinion. He plays two distinct characters, and at one point, gives a performance within a performance. All three performances feature their own unique body language, line delivery, and business. It's astonishing throughout.

Equally impressive is the direction from Roy William Neill. Best known for helming the Basil Rathbone Sherlock Holmes movies, his direction here is so dynamic and impressive, not in the least stagey or inert.

One last thing: for a post-Production Code movie, it has a surprising amount of violence and sexuality. Gregor is clearly using the local women for his sexual gratification before murdering them, and his interest in Marian Marsh's lovely aristocratic girl is 100% carnal. There's a pit full of corpses and we get to look into it rather than have its presence alluded to offscreen. It's all nasty stuff. It really feels like the filmmakers got away with a lot, even if it seems tame by modern standards!

The Bells (dir. James Young, 1926)

Innkeeper Mathias (Lionel Barrymore) hopes to become burgomaster of his village. He hopes endless credit and free drinks will sway the populace to support him, but this comes close to killing his business and destroying his family. Desperate, he murders a wealthy guest, destroys the body, and uses his pilfered gold to pay off all debts and influence his way to power. However, both the crushing guilt and a mesmerist (Boris Karloff) with mind-reading powers threaten to expose him.

This is one of those movies that has a great premise, but the execution is very underwhelming. The filmmakers waste a lot of time on the romantic antics of Mathias' pretty daughter and goofy comedy. It's like they were timid about leaning more into the gothic, distressing elements of this dark story and it makes the film drag.

Still, Barrymore is good, especially once he commits the murder and starts going all Telltale Heart. But the best thing in the movie is definitely Boris Karloff. He had been in movies since 1919 and it wouldn't be until Frankenstein in 1931 that he became a star. But it's safe to say, The Bells gives Karloff his first standout role.

Karloff's character doesn't show up a lot, but he is the biggest threat to Mathias' power. Though his Caligari cosplay is hilarious (for real, the filmmakers didn't even TRY to hide the Caligari influence), he has this creepy shit-eating grin that really leaves an impression.

Is Karloff enough to make this worth watching? Eh, I don't think so. There are far better silent thrillers you could be watching.

The Sorcerers (dir. Michael Reeves, 1967)

Elderly Professor Montserratt (Boris Karloff) and his wife Estelle (Catherine Lacey) use a mind control procedure on young stud Mike Roscoe (Ian Ogilvy). Able to experience everything he feels and to control his behavior if they wish, the two vicariously experience the thrills of Swinging London through their test subject. However, Estelle gets drunk on power and starts using Mike to engage in multiple crimes, including murder.

This movie was hyped to me, so maybe it's partially my fault I was so disappointed by the end result. With the exception of Estelle, the story lacks compelling characters. There's no sense of pathos to Mike's victimization and downfall because he's bland as hell and passive, a deadly combination if you want me to give a damn about your narrative.

Everything about this movie feels drab, both the visuals and the filmmaking itself. Big setpieces like the hypnotism scene or the telepathic motorcycle ride are supposed to be kinetic and exciting, but they just feel like the product of an enthusiastic amateur. I've seen low budget movies that have real personality and verve despite their lack of resources (see Blast of Silence), but The Sorcerers just feels cheap and uninspired in every way. I struggled to finish it even though it wasn't even an hour and a half long.

It's a shame because I like the central premise: two elderly people use this device to vicariously experience the fast life of swinging London. But it's done so poorly. It's hard to believe director Michael Reeves' next film would be the masterful Witchfinder General.

[williamlandon]

BALLISTER VILLIAN AU????

I’ve thought about this for awhile now and I finally did it and I love it. I’ve also kinda thought of some lore and here’s what I have so far.

————————————————————————————————————————--Some Lore: Ballister was adopted by Queen Valerin when he was young and became the prince of the kingdom.

During his coronation to become king, he was framed for murdering his mother and his appointed knight, Ambrosius, cut off his arm in an instinct without any thought.

He managed to escape the city walls without anyone noticing thankfully, but where would he go? He knew nothing about the outside world, if anything it was just as dangerous as staying in the kingdom with a harsh title, if not more dangerous.

While running into the forest, he was found by a skilled archer who was also a shapeshifter. They met when Ballister stopped by a tree to catch his breath and an arrow had been fired into his left eye. After realizing what she had done, the archer curiously dragged the unconscious yet still breathing body to her hideout.

After he woke up, she interrogated him. He told her that he was recently framed for murder and was running for his life. He also told her that he was the soon-to-be king.

She realized that he could be quite useful in her plan of revenge on the kingdom, since she too had been outcasted.

She said she would let him stay and use her resources if he helped her in a plan of revenge. After all, he would need her bandages and food if he wanted to survive out here, and he didn’t want to make an enemy he knew he couldn’t defeat. So he cautiously agreed.

After getting Ballister patched up, the archer introduced herself as Nimona.

Months pass by and they have turned to a life of crime. Atleast 3 times a week they visit the kingdom to steal resources such as food, drinks, extra scrap for patching or building, valuables, info about who the real murderer of the queen is, and weaponry.

One day when out looking for extra spray paint cans for Nimona’s vandalizing gig, the fallen prince had over heard the Squire talking to himself. “I should’ve told the prince that his sword was switched by the Director. None of this would’ve happened if I was successful.”

In an instant, Ballister was enraged. The Director did it. She was to blame for his mother’s death. “Nimona, new plan. And this time, our objective is the Director.”

Later that night Ballister found his sword covered in the Director’s blood. He had done it. She was gone. And he can finally rest. Right..?

And within a few minutes, his ex-appointed knight Ambrosius had busted into the office when alerted with the Director’s cry. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Well if it isn’t the golden boy?”

After the Director’s death, Ballister had taken back his crown and title as king. He may have enlarged his murderous title, but he didn’t care. Not this time. Consumed by his anger and grief, Ballister became the evil king in every fairytale. The kingdom was in his bondage, there was no escape. No one to stop him.

Ambrosius fled before he was captured by the new king’s servants and before the wall was sealed off. He was alone now, and even worse, his best friend, the man he loved, was his enemy. Alone in the woods, he wondered what he should do next. If he could do anything at all.. ——————————————————————————————————————————————————��—

I will post more about this au bc I am honestly in love with it so far. I may also write a fic about this au too I’m sure about that yet, but if I do stay tuned! <3

[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // OC

Summary: The year is 1820. Jacob Thomas is the second born son of the Polish-American Kiszka family who have recently bought property in England. The affluent family have caused a stir in the old aristocratic London social circles after purchasing Belvoir Hall. A country estate which once belonged to the Hanover family. After the death of Sir Oliver Hanover, his debts too many to count, ashamed and disgraced his widow and two daughters move to live with their Aunt at nearby Ivy Grange, a small manor on the Kent border. After returning to recover some personal items, Eleanor Hanover catches the eye of the flirtatious second son. (All locations are fictional)

Warnings: Loss of virginity. All the usual foreplay shenanigans and sexual descriptions you have come to expect from the erotic corners of my mind. Nothing too nefarious. Just delicious regency era raunch.

Jacob was ascending the stairs when the bell began to chime. He turned, curiously, as the chamber maid appeared at the foot of the staircase to greet whomever stood on the other side of the door.

"Who is it, Kitty?" He asked, his boots making low thrums on the stone floored lobby of Belvoir Hall.

"It's Lady Eleanor, Sir." Kitty replied, standing aside so that Jacob could get a good look at her.

Immediately, he was amused by her. As was his nature. To stand there with an egregious grin that was neither comfort nor welcome. His long, dark hair surpassing his shoulders against a white linen shirt that was unseasonably open to his bare chest.

He liked the way her eyes were immediately drawn to his flesh. A small flush appearing in the apples of her cheeks as she lifted her gloved hand to cover her astonished mouth.

"Lady Eleanor." He said curtly, in the American drawl that had been talked about at great length between Eleanor and her friends. "What can I do for you?"

She was a bold thing, he noticed. Clearing her throat before gathering a stand-offish demeanour about her. Turning, ever so slightly, to ensure that her escort was still standing by the waiting carriage behind her.

"Would it be possible to speak with..." She faltered on the correct title,"...Mrs.Kiszka, please?"

Jacob's lips parted as he continued to smile. Enjoying the way she fiddled with her tiny little clutch bag, flustered and pained by his arrogance.

"My apologies Lady Eleanor, but my Mother is currently indisposed. May I be of service to you?" He said it with an edge of insincerity, as if the service he wished to provide her might not be the one she so desired.

Straightening up, she placed a hand to the edge of her bonnet. Careful to ensure her pretty, dark curls were still in place. His eyes followed the movement of her fingers.

"As I understand it, your Mother and Father procured much of our substantial library in the sale of our house." She managed to say, keeping her voice plain and steady, not wanting to give him any indication that she was completely intimidated. "There are a few titles which are dear to my heart and I have come to appeal to their good nature and ask that I may reclaim those books."

He was young and foolish. Never too enamoured with a girl to ask for her hand in marriage, but often interested enough to play with her heart until he was bored of it. Since arriving in England, the rogue in him had been left untamed.

The way he leaned against the door frame, his shirt unbuttoned, was making her uncomfortable. But still, he did not move to properly attire himself. He did not cease in his relentlessness to bribe a coarse word from her lips.

"I see no reason as to why you may not have what you desire." He said sardonically, opening the door a little wider. "Kitty, please show Lady Eleanor to the library."

There was a little hesitation as she approached the door. His arm slowly moving out of her way, his smile never once leaving his face as he watched her enter. Knowing her way to the library but following the servant obediently, she dared to glance back at him standing there as she turned the corner.

Kitty had also been part of the house sale. Similar in age to Eleanor, she had grown up playing in the endless corridors and secret rooms which littered the top floors of the manor. Taking her position as chamber maid on her fourteenth birthday. No longer Eleanor's playmate. It had made little difference, the two of them remaining friends in the convening years.

As the library door closed, Eleanor fell into her friend's excitement. Kitty, unable to retain her sense of propriety, embraced her old friend tightly, giggling as they both enjoyed a sweet reunion.

"Oh, Kitty! I have missed you!" She exclaimed, looking around the old room to happily notice that nothing had changed. "I feel as if I have come home."

Kitty smiled bittersweetly. "Oh, my Lady... the place hasn't been the same since you left. I dare say everything looks as it once did, but it's a different Belvoir Hall these days."

Grasping her hands tightly, Eleanor lead her friend over to the leather couch that centred the walls of book shelves. A table and a lamp that had once belonged to her Father sitting idly at the side. This room had been her absolute favourite. A quiet place to contemplate.

"You must tell me everything, Kitty! Mother has been dying for news over at Ivy Grange. She mulls over it day and night, how we lost Belvoir and everything within it. She's melancholy, I tell you. Simply ghastly. Aunt Helen has been at her wits end. Give me something I may take back for her that may make her smile, wont you?"

Kitty's eyes moved towards the door, afraid to speak ill of her new masters. Leaning in so that her whispers did not travel beyond her dear friend's ear.

"It's their children, my Lady!" Kitty said spritely, cupping a hand around her mouth. "The master and his wife, they are nice enough people. Came here because of a population boom, as they explained it, returning to their European roots. Although I was lead to believe they are Polish? I don't think they speak Polish. Anyway, their children are a different matter. The eldest one, Joshua, he is an odd creature if ever I saw one. Keeps to himself mainly. Rather studious and contemplative. He likes a drink though, and to converse with any who will listen after a few sips. The one who greeted you at the door, that's his younger twin. By five minutes as I understand it. He and their younger brother are tyrants. Jacob and Samuel. I have seen the youngest one with his hand up a few skirts, many a time. You remember Bessy? Your Father took her on just before he died. She did not stand a chance. He's had her up against the wall almost every night since they arrived. And Jacob? His tastes seem a little more sophisticated. But I've heard tale that he has refused to marry. The young girl, Veronica, she's been sent to a school somewhere up north. She was here all of a week before she was gone."

Their conspiring was etched all over their faces as the door clicked and opened. Kitty unceremoniously jumped up from the couch, flattening out her pinafore and hair as Jacob strode in with all the confidence of a man who knew his place.

"Leave us." He said, lowering his voice and his gaze.

Eleanor raised a protesting hand. "If it is all the same to you, good Sir, my escort is waiting outside and as a guest I am certain you must provide me with one whilst I am within."

The corner of his mouth turned upward. "As you wish."

Kitty stood with her back to the door. Her eyes firmly set on the window, overlooking the gardens outside. Fingers knotted together at her front, as she had been taught to stand whenever attending a room. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jacob take a seat on the opposite end of the couch. Certain he was being far too bold.

"You are welcome here any time, Lady Eleanor." He said smoothly, crossing his leg across his lap. "It must still feel like your home."

The kindness with which he spoke took her by surprise. His insincerity and arrogance were still bubbling beneath a veneer of charm, his arm outstretched towards her on the back of the couch. She noted the way he looked at her, without a hint of propriety.

The flush within her cheeks began to resonate between her thighs. The fabric of her petticoat becoming uncomfortable. Her corset feeling as if it might constrict her chest into breaths she could barely take in. The sensation washing over her completely unwanted, leaving her desperate to flee.

"You're very kind, Sir..." She began, trying to remain composed.

"Call me Jacob, I insist." He replied before she could finish, a subtle waves of his hand revealing the silver lines of an old scar running up his forearm.

"Jacob." She uttered, the name spilling out of her mouth like spun silk.

He liked the way it sounded on her lips. Admiring her budded peaks and poised demeanour as she sat bolt upright with her hands within her lap. Her attempt to hide her rosy cheeks beneath the rim of her bonnet made him eager to cup her chin within his hand and lift her gaze to meet him.

"You are not yet married, Lady Eleanor?" He asked, shooting a disparaging look towards Kitty, "May I be so bold as to ask why a beautiful woman such as yourself has not yet accepted the many proposals I am sure you have received?"

Kitty could feel his eyes burning into her. Her mouth was set in a thin line, biting back the urge to speak ill of her masters son.

"You may not." Eleanor replied, " I am here to collect my books, nothing more."

He noted the thin line transform into a triumphant smile on Kitty's face.

"Very well." He allowed, swiftly moving away from the couch. "Pick out your beloved books and I will have them sent to you as I'm certain there will be many."

There was a hint of reproach as he took his leave. Eleanor felt the wind leave her lungs as he closed the door behind him. The interaction so brief, so inconsequential. Had she imagined the way he had looked at her?

"Careful there, my Lady." Kitty warned, "He's a tyrant, remember?"

Ivy Grange was much smaller, less grandiose than Belvoir. It had taken Eleanor several weeks to acclimatise herself to the surroundings. Where once there had been a full service staff of housekeepers and groundsmen, stable hands and game keepers there was now only a handful of people to keep the land and rooms. It still felt somewhat shameful. To have lost everything so suddenly and to see another in the place where you once stood.

For days after returning from Belvoir, Eleanor did not feel quite herself. Taking air in the garden and keeping herself occupied with the piano in the day parlour. It had felt strange to be a guest when it still felt like her home. But it wasn't that which kept her unsettled.

As she strolled around the rose bushes, taking in their scent and admiring their soft, round pink petals she was reminded of that symbiotic stare. His arrogance and his kindness at war with one another. He was an enigma, she had decided, as she studied the rose stems.

Why did he come into her mind so vividly and so uninvited? She found herself irritated with all the thoughts which had plagued her. Wondering if he had meant to steal from her the emotions she had felt that day. Is this what tyrants did?

"Ellie?! Oh, Ellie... where are you?! Must you always be where I can't find you?!"

The voice chimed over the mid spring breeze. The child like call of Elizabeth Hanover, Eleanor's younger sister.

"I am here!" Eleanor called back, lifting her head to be seen over the pink and green. "What has got you all excited?!"

At fifteen years old, she was entirely the opposite of her sister. Eleanor was only bold because she feared the interrogation of being asked why she had not yet married. Elizabeth was still young enough to enjoy not being asked that question. Still full of hope and wonder. Eleanor had no desire to marry a man who would no doubt drink himself into a stupor every night and gamble away their wealth. Sir Oliver Hanover had much to answer for when it came to his eldest daughter.

"Oh, Ellie! There's a Gentleman come to call for you. He's ever so handsome! He's American, with that long hair. And he has asked to speak with your directly. Ellie...is he one of those Kiszka's that moved into Belvoir?"

Eleanor could see that her sister had been instantly charmed. She placed a loving hand on the cool, flushed cheek of her little sister. Her eyes looking up expectantly.

"I expect so, yes." She replied, looking up over the lawn towards the house. "He greeted me when I visited the other day."

Elizabeth clasped her hands together. "Which one? The youngest one? I have heard he is terribly handsome. And the man at the door was terribly handsome..."

"Lilibet, please." Eleanor said, stroking the cheek slowly. "Calm yourself down. They're just silly boys."

"You always say that." Elizabeth replied, feeling the excitement drain from her, "He's speaking with Mother. And I don't think he's a silly boy at all. I think I would be greatly flattered if one of them were to call for me."

Of course, it was Jacob. Under the guise of returning the books she had chosen from the library. A chest full of them stood at the foot of the door, a look of absolute satisfaction on his face.

Eleanor's Mother, Lady Anne Hanover, had already agreed to Jacob escorting her eldest daughter on a stroll around the gardens whilst the books were placed in the smaller library at Ivy Grange. A look of consternation was exchanged between Mother and daughter before Eleanor invited him out into the warm spring sunshine.

"I did not mean to cause offence to you the other day, Lady Eleanor." He began, following her lead down the path which meandered down from the back of the house. "I'm sure you are aware that I, too, am as yet unmarried and grow weary at being questioned."

Eleanor politely nodded. "There was no offence, caused. Sir...I beg your pardon, Jacob."

There it was again. That smile as she spoke his name. His entire body turned to face her. Still amused by her. Still charmingly arrogant.

"I dare say our parents were hoping a change of location would bring about some changes in our marital statuses. As yet, none of my siblings are betrothed. Although they hope that my sister will return from her schooling up north with news of a proposal."

Eleanor could feel that tightness in her corset again, that familiar ache in her stomach. She stopped to admire the flowers.

"May I ask why you have called upon me like this, Jacob? It seems to me that you have no desire to marry and courtship would be far too much of a commitment for you. Because, as you can see, I have no desire to be courted."

"Is that so?" He replied earnestly, gesturing for her to lead them further down the path. "I had wondered if Kitty had filled your head with nonsense about me and it appears that I was right."

She dared to look at him directly. The sun beating down behind him, forcing her to raise a hand against her eyes. She noted the details of his face for the first time. The sensual way his mouth moved, the tip of his tongue moistening his lips. A tiny mole on his cheek and a little upturn of his nose at the tip.

"Where did you get that scar on your arm?" She asked, deciding that she was going to humour him.

He was quite taken aback, but did not hesitate in his response.

"When I was a child my brother and I were having a disagreement. He thought it could be resolved with fists and so we fought. I ended up with my fist cutting through a glass cabinet that had belong to my Grandfather and the result was the opening of my arm." He traced the silver line with a curious fingertip. "Joshua saw the blood and immediately ran to fetch our Mother, who promptly fainted at the sight of it. I don't think either of us can remember what the disagreement was about."

Eleanor nodded and proceeded to guide him into the seclusion of the pond which sat behind a row of beeches. The lily pads were in full bloom and the fish scuttled up to the surface as their reflections appeared on the rippled surface.

"Am I to believe that you are not the tyrant I have been informed of?" She asked pertinently. "Is that why you have come here? To ensure that the stories which proceed you are not to be believed?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I would be interested to hear which stories are circulating. My Father intends to host a party in the coming weeks. To formally greet everyone and make their proper acquaintance. I'm sure you will receive your invitation shortly, but I would hate to be stuck in a room full of people who think me a tyrant."

The wind picked up. Pulling a curl from Eleanor's head. He took note of it immediately, reaching to push it back from her face. She did not flinch from the touch as he thought she might. There, at the side of the pond, they were completely alone and unescorted. Jacob sensed a shift in her manner with him.

"Only that you and your younger brother have had your fill of the women around here in such a short space of time. With no regard for their honour." She said curtly, with no regard for his feelings, eager to see if he would respond graciously.

He was no longer amused. No longer arrogant, even.

"I cannot speak for Samuel. He is younger than I am. Likely his behaviour will catch up to him if he is not careful." He sighed then, almost as if it grieved him. "My only wish is to find a girl who will run free with me."

Yes, he was a rogue. But he was no tyrant. She peered into his soft eyes and saw all the promise of a man who couldn't exist within the walls expected of him. Walls that had kept her, too, caged like a wild animal for others to spectate.

"Why is it that you carry yourself so arrogantly?" She dared to ask. "You do yourself no favours."

There was an errant smirk there on that beautiful mouth.

"Better to be thought of as something that I am not, than something I am failing at being."

Eleanor could not deny that she was intrigued by him. If she had ever been intimidated, it fell by the wayside as she watched him gently fan away a bee that came to buzz around their heads. Ordinarily, she would have panicked and swatted it away herself. But she could not keep her eyes off him.

"What, precisely, might you be failing at being?" She probed further.

"Romantic." He replied stoically.

There was a change in direction of the breeze. It brought about that curl from behind her ear. He would have trespassed a kiss, but the hour was growing late. Instead, he positioned that curl back behind her ear, his hand lingering a little longer at her face.

"I think it would be remiss of me to say that you are not without romance, Jacob." She said, almost breathlessly. "But I fail to see how any of that has anything to do with me."

He almost laughed. A low, breathy mocking sound that hurt her feelings.

"You are not blind, Lady Eleanor. Nor are you stupid." He said then, all the laughter fading. "You do well to be careful with me, I am but a man. And though I strive to do better, it is true that I have known my share of women."

"Perhaps you are tyrant after all." She said quietly, her eyes falling listlessly to his lips. "Perhaps I have need of one."

As the carriage pulled up outside Belvoir Hall, Eleanor Hanover smoothed out her emerald green dress. Adorned with lace at the neck and wrists, she checked her reflection in the carriage door window and admired the warm, welcoming lights resonating from her former home.

London society was buzzing with excitement for the first formal occasion hosted by the mysterious new American family. There was no mistaking that they were new money. Mr. and Mrs. Kiszka, without any further titles, welcomed Lords and Ladies to their sprawling home with all the uncertainty that came with being new money. But money they had, in abundance.

It was clear to see as Eleanor stepped into the ballroom. Adorned with silk flowers which hung ostentatiously from the ceiling and climbed in vines down the staircase. A string quartet were playing lively music in the corner while the waiting staff mingled with silver trays of champagne.

Aunt Helen was the first to make a comment on the choice of flowers. Lady Ann agreeing with her most excitedly as they tried to pick the place apart and make it appear that they were happy to attend a party in the place they had once called home.

"Where do you suppose the sons are?" Elizabeth asked, scanning the room for handsome young men.

Aunt Helen, although old and dithering, placed a firm hand on the young girls shoulder. "Now, now, Lilibet. Have a care for your reputation."

The young girl rolled her eyes. "It's a party, Aunt Helen. Am I not allowed a little fun?"

"Fun you may have." The old woman replied sourly, "Dance if you wish. But stay away from those Kiszka boys, I have heard... things."

It didn't take long for their arrival to make heads turn. People gathering to ask how they felt in their old home, being hosted as guests. Eleanor took her opportunity to step back from the fray, smiling and nodding as she took a glass of champagne.

Parties had never sat well with her. The meaningless cycle of mind numbing chat and gossip. The judgements of those attending, pretending to like their neighbours whilst talking ill of them behind their backs. People getting far too drunk for their senses. The music and the joy which came from that was the only reason she attended. But tonight there had been another reason.

"That's Joshua Kiszka on the fiddle." Elizabeth announced, inexplicably coming forth with information she couldn't possibly have procured so quickly. "Look at him, Ellie! Isn't he dreamy?!"

Eleanor looked over the where the quartet were playing. A small, curly haired man playing a wistful tune.

"That man is twenty six years old, Lilibet. There is to be no more say on how he is dreamy." She scolded, watching her sister skulk off with her excitement yet again dulled.

Jacob was sitting quietly in the darkest corner of the room, beneath the staircase where he could watch the party unfold without engaging himself within it. He watched Eleanor arrive, keeping a close eye as she looked for him. Distracted by her sister's incessant wants, he found himself intrigued by the way she took herself to the edge of the room to spectate, in much the same manner he was.

His desire to make his presence known was quelled by the eyes he knew would be watching. To approach her in this room would have drawn unwanted attention. As he rose from his seat, he slowly made his way through the crowd. Nodding his head in greeting to those who raised their glasses. His eyes firmly set on Eleanor.

When she reciprocated his gaze, it was as if the music had stopped. She understood completely what was expected of her. The room fell silent to him, her shape was all he could see. He silently begged her to leave with him. From across the room.

"Lilibet." She said, leaning in to her crestfallen sister. "Do you think our rooms have been slept in by one of the boys?"

Oh, she was evil. To use her sister to such an end. But as Jacob ascended the stairs, his eyes reaching back to call her to him, she knew there was no other way to slip out unnoticed.

Elizabeth, predictably excited by the prospect of going to investigate, knew that she was being watched.

"Why don't you keep Mother and Aunt Helen occupied whilst I go and have a look? I can report back."

The idea was not without it's rewards. Elizabeth mulled it over for the briefest of moments before sidling off to keep her Mother and Aunt's attention.

Whatever madness was coursing through her veins in that moment, she heeded it. The candlelit corridor at the top of the stairs was where he waited for her. His shirt unbuttoned in the way it had been that first day she had returned to Belvoir. His hair cascading over his shoulders.

He picked up a candlestick and began walking down the corridor, Eleanor following his silent instruction. He halted at the door of her old room.

"This was yours, wasn't it?" He correctly predicted.

She nodded prophetically. "I suppose it is yours now."

His smile danced in the light of the candle. He opened the door and allowed her to slip beneath his arm, the light of the moon outside flooding in through the open window. He watched her run to the glass, placing her palm flat against it as she looked out over the gardens.

"You look exceptionally beautiful tonight, Lady Eleanor." He said, placing the candle down on the dresser by the door.

She watched him in the reflection of the window. Standing there like a ghost. Her heart fluttering wildly against her corset strings. He looked dangerous standing there like that.

"Thankyou." She swallowed, "You look rather dapper yourself, Sir."

She thought he might correct her, but to her surprise he didn't. He liked being called Sir. He had been called it more often of late. Drawing from it a need to hear it outside the realms of propriety.

"Why did you come up here, my Lady?" He asked, taking the buckle of his belt firmly into his hand. "I do not plan on being an honourable man."

"I know." She breathed, turning to face him in the flickering light of the candle flame. "I did not follow you to be honoured."

His breath ceased. If his expectation had been to steal a kiss, he began to wonder if she would allow him more.

The four poster bed was unchanged. Eleanor had spent many nights in those sheets alone, wondering what it might feel like to have a man at her side. As she glanced over at the bed frame, a flash of something emerged in Jacob's eyes.

"I must confess that I have been completely at your mercy since the moment I laid eyes upon you." His confession came unbound, unlooping the belt savagely from his waist.

Eleanor thought back to that day far more often than she cared to admit. He had ignited within her something which had been dormant. Perhaps opening an answer as to why she was yet to marry. In truth, all the men who had ever asked her had bored her to tears. Not once having elicited from her the visceral reaction in her core that Jacob had with one, fleeting glance.

"Would I be right in thinking that whatever may transpire here tonight, you have thought about it often?" She asked, noticing in the dull light the way his jaw was clenched tight.

"A fair warning to you, Lady Eleanor. If you have yet to know a man's touch. Let it be known before I lose control of myself."

He placed his belt down on the dresser slowly. Never breaking the way he stared at her.

There was a real sense of fear permeating from her in that moment. A kiss or two had been stolen by former suitors. One of them had even managed to draw her into a moment of feverish petting that had been interrupted at the precise moment Eleanor had come to her senses about the stupid boy. But nothing more.

"What kind of woman do you take me for?" She asked, knowing full well the sort of woman she was. " You are well aware that I am unmarried."

"Unmarried women do not always walk through life without carnal knowledge." He surmised, taking a step towards her.

He would have taken strides to cross the room and taken her into his arms without further question were it not for the door opening behind him.

The candlestick that entered first causing Lady Eleanor to retreat back towards the window. The hand which gripped it tightly belonging to her friend, Lady Jane Corbett.

Jacob, in his haste to remove her, caught her in a delirious grip. The hand that reached out to strike him landing in an iron grip around her wrist that would surely leave a mark.

"You brute!!!" She screamed, throwing the candlestick down onto the wooden panelled floor. "I knew you were a fiend!"

He stomped the flame out. Eleanor stood watching in horror as the poor girl was tackled on to the bed. His hand pressed firmly against her mouth lest her screams alert others to the predicament.

"Have you lost your damn mind, girl?!"

It appeared that she had. Eleanor had known Lady Jane all her life. The two of them navigating the same social circles that their Fathers expected them to find suitable husbands within. Coming of age in the same month. Confiding in each other their distaste for all the eligible men who had come forward.

"Release her, immediately!" Eleanor flared, coming to her senses as she realised how harshly he had dealt with her.

He did as he was bade. Stepping away from the crying girl with his palms in the air. Defeat etched across his distraught face.

"I only meant to calm her, Lady Eleanor. You see how distressed she is."

"Indeed I do." Eleanor agreed, helping her friend to rise. "And what is the cause of this distress?"

"I am." He replied solemnly.

"Be more specific." She added, wiping the tears that fell down Lady Janes cheeks.

Jane, certain she had behaved foolishly as she began to sober, looked up at the kindness being shown to her and regretted her decision to follow them.

Jacob had been all that she could think of. Consumed entirely by him. She had been his first conquest after arriving at Belvoir a month ago. Inconsequential to him. A mere plaything. Regretfully rebuffing her repeated advances thereafter.

Lady Jane was a creature of habit. And he had drawn from her a habit she ached to have more of. But she was not pretty in the way that Eleanor was. Nor as interesting. Jacobs desire towards her waning almost the instant he had kissed her.

For that was all it had been. One kiss. In the day parlour downstairs after the Corbett family had been the first to win the race to welcome the new owners of the largest estate in the county. And it had driven the poor girl mad.

"Lady Jane, I meant you no harm." Jacob said softly, with the most kindness Eleanor had seen him muster. "But this has to stop. I have no intention towards you."

She was limp in Eleanor's arms. "There was an intention towards me the day you kissed me..."

It was all to much for her. The champagne and the music and the crushing realisation that Jacob had never wanted her. Turning to Eleanor, sinking her head into her open arms, she was lead back out into the corridor.

"Come along, Janey... let's find your Mammar and Pappar and see that you get yourself home." Eleanor coddled, striking Jacob with the most venomous stare.

He was still catching his breath. "I mean to have you, one way or another."

She caught his scent as she escorted her friend out. His words echoing as she left him stood there. Returning to the party felt like an unfinished symphony. The evening playing out much as she had imagined it would.

Lord Corbett bundled his daughter into their carriage and apologised for her demeanour. There was much talk of her drunkenness in whispers thereafter. For Eleanor it felt as if she had embarked on a journey she'd had no desire to travel. Her eyes moving towards the staircase as Jacob watched her from his elevated position.

Perhaps he was both charming tyrant and the man she had always needed. Her attention was solely transfixed on him. It didn't even matter that her friend had been broken by him. She knew she was willing to enter into whatever this was by any means necessary. What was disturbed that night would remain alight until the next opportunity, she was sure of it.

Midnight was fast approaching when he finally descended. Passing through the remaining guests, ever watchful of her. Greeting his younger brother, who was decidedly drunk enough to have abandoned his shoes somewhere. Elizabeth was asking far too many questions, the inane babble of the older women forcing Eleanor to address them just so that she didn't have to listen to it any longer.

"Yes, Lilibet. I think that one of them has taken over the use of my old room." She sighed, "How strange to think what was once ours is now theirs."

"I'm tired." The young girl complained, "You were gone for so long I got terribly bored and haven't stopped dancing all night. My feet hurt."

"Well, perhaps we should do as our hosts do and remove our shoes." She suggested, "And then I will suggest to Mother that we go home, how does that sound?"

"Yes." She agreed, resting her head diligently on her sister's shoulders. "I've had quite enough for one evening."

"As have I." Eleanor whispered. "As have I..."

When Samuel Kiszka had come calling for Elizabeth she had pouted for days that she had not been allowed to receive him. The rebuff had been taken personally with the Kiszka's making a hasty visit to Ivy Grange to enquire as to why their son was not good enough for the young Lady.

Elizabeth's 16th birthday was fast approaching. All her romantic notions seemed to burn a wildfire once she realised Samuel was interested in her. Insufferable, almost. Amongst the chaos of it all there was was no Gentleman callers at the door for Eleanor, and she began to feel as if she should have trusted her initial instinct about Jacob.

Mr. and Mrs. Kiszka were homely people. They had known struggle. Their position was not yet secured in society simply because they had purchased Belvoir Hall. They seemed to understand this as they sat, nervously, in the day parlour with Aunt Helen and Lady Anne.

"You understand our position, do you not?" Aunt Helen asked, offering them some more tea, even though they had already drunk more than one cup. "Elizabeth is not yet sixteen until the week after next and we cannot have suitors arriving before that time."

It was a fair excuse. One that made little sense. Eleanor had been forced to receive suitors well before she had turned sixteen and now that she was closer to twenty it appeared that there was one person she wished would call for her, after all.

"Well now, we had hoped that our son would pick wisely." Mrs. Kiszka explained, her accent slightly off-putting to the older women. "Lord knows, he needs himself a good wife. And I can assure you, if she picks Samuel, she will be able to return to Belvoir and will want for nothing."

"Be that as it may." Aunt Helen interjected, "Wealth and power are all very good but what is any of that without a title?"

Mr. Kiszka shuffled in his seat. "It seems to me that young Lady Elizabeth is sweet on our boy. And he seems to feel the same, should we not let the young ones decide?"

Aunt Helen was not perturbed in the slightest. "She's a flighty young thing. In love with love. It shall pass, I dare say."

Eleanor was seated by the piano, her nose in a book. Trying to keep herself from entering into the debate as she raged inwardly at Jacob's absence.

"In any case, he's the only one of our sons that has shown an interest in marriage. Our eldest boys are perpetual bachelors." Mrs.Kisza revealed, causing Eleanor to look up from her book. "They have both returned to Michigan to complete some business on behalf of their Father. We don't expect miracles, but if one of them should bring a wife back that would be one less worry."

Aunt Helen raised her cup for more tea to be poured. "And when do you expect them to return?"

"Next month." Mrs.Kiszka replied, her words ripping through Eleanor with such force, she audibly whined.

It drew their attention.

"Whatever is the matter, girl?" Aunt Helen asked, visibly troubled by the sound.

Eleanor put her book down and made her excuses.

"Forgive me, I do not feel quite well..."

It transpired that a month felt unrelenting when the heart was longing for something. He was her twin flame. A scoundrel that was on the same footing as she. She wanted him to ruin her, to love her so passionately that there would never be a parting such as this between them ever again. As the days rolled by, Eleanor found herself in a state of constant melancholy. Frustrated with herself for allowing such a thing to happen.

Elizabeth's birthday arrived with such fanfare that it felt to Eleanor as if she had been asleep for a very long time and had been forced to wake up for the occasion. Her heart was set on marrying Samuel. Who wanted her simply for her status and purity. He would take great delight in that on their wedding night. Which made Eleanor want to burn down Belvoir Hall, with all the damn Kiszka's inside it.

"Why am I not allowed to be in love?" Elizabeth asked, on the morning of her birthday, sitting in the day parlour eating breakfast opposite her sister.

"What a stupid thing to say." Eleanor replied, "Of course you're allowed to be in love."

She watched as Elizabeth spooned a heap of jam onto her bread. Spreading it thickly across the wedge before shoving it into her mouth with little decorum.

"I'm not allowed to be in love with Samuel Kiszka." She added, chewing at the same time. "But you're allowed to be in love with Jacob. I do not find that fair."

Eleanor's head shot up. Her appetite completely withdrawn.

"I am not in love with Jacob Kiszka." She said pointedly, pushing her plate aside.

Throwing her a knowing look, Elizabeth rose from the table and brushed off the crumbs from her dress.

"I'm going to marry Samuel. And you're going to marry Jacob. And we're both going home to Belvoir. And there really isn't much you can do about it." She stated, skulking off to enjoy the rest of her birthday without Eleanor's incessant brooding.

Jacob hadn't known how he would feel upon his early return. The rolling hills of the Kent countryside filling him with a sense of serenity as the carriage rumbled on from the port at Liverpool. Sat opposite his twin and the bride he had brought with him that would surely make their Mother so happy that his absence would be barely noted if he jumped out and walked the rest of the way to Ivy Grange.

The mid summer heat was intense that day. So warm that he threw his coat over his shoulder as he disembarked. The crossroads that lead to Ivy Grange stretched out in the opposite direction of the road to Belvoir Hall.

"Tell Ma I'll be home later." He called, watching the carriage roll on without him.

With the sun beating down so fiercely, Eleanor took refuge in the conservatory. The glass panelled room was airy and light, with all manner of plants growing in the atrium to keep her shaded. It was the one room at Ivy Grange that Aunt Helen had insisted on. With the expanse of gardens below, the view was something to behold. And it kept her distracted whilst the house was busy preparing a birthday feast.

And then he was there. Completely unexpected. She was uncertain at first as she squinted into the midday sun. His form appearing at the bottom of the driveway, walking up the lawn with his coat draped across his shoulder. His shirt unbuttoned. Oh, that damned shirt.

She flew to the conservatory door almost flinging it off it's hinges as she ran to him. The ribbon in her hair trailing behind her wildly, her dress coming up about her knees as she flew down the lawn. He threw down his coat as she approached, opening his arms for her to reach.

He caught her in a spin. Lifting her off the ground. Wasting no more time to give in to the temptations which had been there since the very first moment. She allowed him to do as he pleased. No longer caring for propriety. He placed her firmly to the ground, lifting her chin to meet his waiting lips.

Her foot rising back as he kissed her. It was not a gentle kiss, nor befitting the sort of kiss that should be a first. He was enamoured by the way she seemed as possessed as he, her fingers knotting through his hair as she fought to have her fill of him. Her mouth opening beneath his, welcoming his tongue as if she had wilted at his request.

"You were gone..." She cried through the warm breath of his mouth against hers. "You left me..."

Her reproach was a dagger to his heart. Gripping her shoulders tightly he thought of the breadth of the country he had travelled to return to her. The way he had wrapped up his business in Michigan a fortnight early to make the odyssey back to her. He thought of how Joshua had begged him to stay, their hearts torn into two halves as Jacob pined for Eleanor and Joshua found a love to call his own. They had fought over it. And reconciled over it.

"You will never know what I have endured to be here...to return to you..." He said, so uncommonly soft, his hands resting at the crook of her neck.

She didn't need to. It was laid bare in his eyes as he peered down at her, desperate for more. In haste, she pulled him down the lawn towards the line of beech tree's that secluded the view of the pond from the house.

Pulling at his shirt, freeing him of it as he gathered her dress within the curl of his fists and reached inside the fold of her petticoat. He laid her down on the soft, summer grass. In the shade of the beeches. Her hair fell free of her ribbon, cascading down to reveal tresses of long dark waves. He held his breath against the sight of her.

"I have thought of nothing but this." He confessed, sliding her petticoat up the length of her thighs.

He parted her knees slowly, sending ripples of arousal through her core as he slipped his cold palm up the inside of her legs. She was breathing heavily, her bosom rising and falling against the tightness of her corset.

It was in his mind to take her then and there. The way she pleaded with him, her arms reaching out for his body to covet her.

"Will you be wanting it rough?" He asked, lifting her leg to rest upon his shoulder as he pulled down her stockings. "Or would my Lady like to be serenaded?"

She giggled helplessly. His eyes resting on the wet, gilded pinkness of her core.

"Whatever Sir desires..." She replied playfully.

Eleanor had never seen a man's desire before. She watched him closely, pulling down his trousers to reveal himself. Her eyes widened at the size of it. The way it seemed to be weeping at the tip, the pulse of the veins running down the shaft and how he gripped it fervently in his hand as he ran his curled fist up and down, taking the flesh with it.

"You are a virgin, Lady Eleanor." He said, a fact she had never truly revealed but one that he had known regardless. "I'll not be taking it from you too coarsely."

"Take it from me however you wish, Jacob. Like my heart, it is yours."

He lifted her with careful arms, pulling at the lace of her corset just enough for her breasts to spill over the lace edging of her dress. He marvelled at the round, soft peaks of her hard nipples. Not too big, not too small. Just enough to fill the cup of his hand.

"Take me, Jacob, please...I am begging you..."

She would only cry out in pain.

"No, my Lady...I will not take it from you in the manner I have taken it from others. If my being gentle with you the first time means that you will not think me a brute...as the others did... then I will court you with more aggression afterwards." He came down to her, pressing his hardness against her thigh. "Perhaps on our wedding night I will fuck you in all the ways you desire."

She balked at the way he said it so casually. Without asking for her hand, without formally putting forth his intentions to her Mother and Aunt first.

"You intend to marry me?!" She asked, her voice breaking on the prospect that everything Elizabeth had said that morning being prophecy.

He smirked. A dangerous look that made her begin to weep, too, from her aching centre.

"Oh, my love... look at the way you ready yourself for me."

He swept a poised thumb over her swollen, slippery lips. Immediately her body responded by arching. Moaning a muffled pitch of a sound that drove him to insanity. Her breasts lilting to the side, bottom lip held between her gritted teeth.

She felt like moist silk. He probed a finger at her entrance, pushing it in slowly to her tight walls. Her hips instinctually grinding against the sensation, pushing him to slide a second digit inside.

"The tightest little thing I have ever felt." He said in breathless confessions, leaning over the body as if to claim it for his own. "May I taste you, my love?"

There it was again, that word. That name. She nodded feverishly as he gathered the fabric of her dress and slid down to greet her waiting virginity. His mouth connected with her slit and she let out the most pained shriek. As if a banshee had possessed her. Never had anything felt so consumingly arousing.

As he flayed his tongue against her wet, throbbing clitoris she continued in her song. Whining pitifully against his moving jaw. Feeling how he moaned, too. The taste of her filling his mouth. Swallowing it like sweet honey. Flicking the tip of his tongue inside her as if to elicit more flow.

"Oh dear God...I am going to hell..." She said through agonised cries.

When he appeared from the peak of her mound, he was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand slovenly.

"If hell is a place where I get to do this every night of my life, I willingly submit myself to the devil himself."

Anyone could have chanced upon them. Taking the risk into consideration, she pulled him up to meet her mouth once more and there tasted herself on the tongue which brushed against hers.

"I fear we may be seen." She said, taking a moment to appreciate the way he had finally been romantic with her. "I would have a thousand sweet words from you and a thousand moments like this, but we are not yet married...and I fear we will be caught..."

It was as though he had just made the most astonishing discovery of all time. The way his eyes moved down to her breasts, his mouth following to suckle gently on her hard nipple. She felt as if she might die if he did not do what he intended. The awareness of his body so complete. Virgin or no, she wanted to be taken in any way that would mean she could be free of the mounting frustration.

She had thought he would not heed her words. But the next moment took her to somewhere lingering above the hell she had feared. A hot, searing fire tore through her middle for the briefest of moments as he entered her. But it was not hell that came for her. As the pain subsided, she felt his body weight on top of her moving slowly in thrusts that made her feel as if she had never known pleasure til this moment.

With one hand he lifted her leg to wrap around his waist. His voice low and gruff, his panting warm against her ear. Eleanor, in the midst of it, lapped her tongue against his ear lobe which made him squeeze down on her hip much tighter, leaving reddened marks in her flesh.

"Be loyal to me always..." He demanded whilst pumping into her freshly broken walls. "I must know that I am the only man you will ever love..."

It was his ego talking. The desperate love pouring out in a jealousy that had yet to be seen. Eleanor did not care. The intensity of his eyes had drawn her in long ago. She would have permitted him anything.

"Only you...I swear it..." She replied in hushed tones, feeling him grow quicker in his pace.

All too soon he had begun to fuck into her with all the force of a man who had been driven mad. She took such delight in the way he cast aside his gentleness in favour of depravity. His body falling forward into her bouncing breasts, the fabric in his fists almost tearing at the seams.

The balmy breeze caressed their skin. Jacob feeling near to completion, he pulled out of her slowly and tried to calm his nerves as his coated tip rested against her entrance. A moment he wanted to savour. His thumb running along her moistened mouth, her tongue lapping against it. His mouth lilting open in response.

"I want to see you finish, my love..." He said breathlessly, "Do you understand me?"

Eleanor had a small idea. In the whispers she had heard exchanged between her married friends. Of the crescendo at the end of love making, which sometimes came to them and sometimes did not.

"How will I know?" She asked innocently.

Jacob's smirk returned to his mouth as he kissed her passionately.

"Oh, you sweet girl...you will know. I promise." He assured her, returning his hard cock to the wet warmth of her.

He lightly tapped at her clit with his thumb, making a rhythm on it that made her entire body ascend. He pumped harder, so hard the grass began to give way beneath her into the earth below. Dark smears of mud grazing her hands as he reached for something to hold on to. That would tell her all of this was real.

"Oh, Eleanor..." He grunted, his entire body convulsing above her as he released his seed within her.

The crescendo did not happen as she had imagined it. Not at the same time his did, but after. When he was steadying his breathing and his thrusting had ceased. When his thumb pressed against her clit and she felt the moon and stars of night come out in the middle of the day.

"Oh....my.....goodness.....Oh....."

It would have been easy for Lady Eleanor Hanover to remain unwed for the rest of her life. Languishing at Ivy Grange, haunting the old place like her Aunt did. She was not the romantic little thing her sister was. But still, she found herself in an entanglement she could not free herself of.

Some said that she married beneath her on the day she gave up her title for the man she loved. Others were enamoured by the way their story seemed to be one of love. Lady Jane Corbett stood with silent tears trailing down her veiled face as she watched from the church pews. Vows echoing down the aisle.

And she did return to Belvoir, in the end. 

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.

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@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon y @char289 @dancingcarbon @gvfpal @violetstarcatcher

[darkpoisonouslove]

HotD S02E05

I had things to say about this episode before I'd even watched it, which I'm sure tells you that everything is magnificent and I have thoroughly enjoyed myself. I see we've now established a pattern of one episode being more setup and then the following having all the good stuff. I'm just kind of running out of patience and tolerance for the bullshit writing decisions that I'm forced to witness all over the place.

I see that the writers are really going to ignore Meleys killing all of those people during Aegon's coronation just to make a fool of Criston and make a victory that's already cost a lot cost even more. Personally, if I'd heard about all the people that were crushed by a dragon during the king's coronation and then I saw the same dragon killed, I'd be relieved at least, if not cheering. We heard so much about how killing the ratcatchers was bad because it alienated the Small Folk, but apparently avenging all the deaths of said Small Folk at your coronation is also somehow bad for PR? How am I supposed to take this as anything but anti green propaganda at worst and a sloppy plot device at best?

I swear to fucking god, if I have to hear one more time about how peaceful things were under Viserys' rule, I'm flipping a table. As if Viserys isn't solely responsible for this whole mess by not managing things better at least if he couldn't be bothered to keep it in his pants and not have any more children. I for sure enjoyed Rhaenyra admitting that he didn't teach her shit but it's so very funny how she says that now while in 1x10 she was explaining to Luke how her father passed all this knowledge down to her and she'd do the same for him. The writers are clowns.

I love how they were so set on making Aegon look like a fool, especially in last episode, but Rhaenyra is in the exact same position! How is her Council talking over her not the same as Aegon's council pretending he's not even there? And yet the show's framing is so insistent on how that's a great hurdle for her to overcome while in Aegon's case it's proof that he's not worthy to be king. To be pretty fucking honest Aegon is at a disadvantage because he's younger. Rhaenyra had time to prepare herself but she was the one who chose to hole herself up in Dragonstone and have sex with Daemon instead of being in King's Landing and ruling in her father's stead and building her positions.

Not Jace complaining about being kept safe at home to the same girl that his mother is treating as disposable just to not risk his ass. And they had to have Baela comforting him.

I've seen people complaining that Daemon is not supposed to remember his mother and they just included this willful incest to make him look worse. Enjoy! Clearly he's manifesting his complexes about being the most suited heir to the throne by having mommy tell him so and take him as a lover because he's just so great.

He's really funny, though. He's threatening left and right and then he can't even follow through because he knows he stands no chance without the people he was just threatening to burn alive. At least when Criston was threatening executions, he committed to them. Literally how are the Blacks in such deep shit when they have more dragons and more houses pledged to them? Looks like a skill issue.

They fumbled my Criston x Alicent x Larys love triangle so bad. I wasn't expecting them to actually do the funny thing, though they still can! With the way things went between Alicent and Criston, now is the perfect time for Larys to pull some Parent Trap shit to make sure Alicent is indulging. I think Alicent might be more receptive to hearing him out than Criston. His argument was the only one that wasn't based on her own mistakes in recent weeks. But he is now essentially saying "you have to make the sacrifice for our cause" when just last episode he wanted her to stop her self-sacrificial agenda and start giving into her impulses. The way that things have shifted since then is insane.

I see people also going "gotcha" at Alicent for the fact that the Small Council didn't back her claim and I must say... As a staunch Alicent supporter, who has constant brainrot about her, I have to agree with their decision. Alicent has done nothing but hinder them at every turn with her refusal to go against Rhaenyra. Thank god they don't know about her Sept escapades with Rhaenyra or they might have wanted her punished for treason. But yes, if I saw this woman completely ignore the fact that her six-year-old grandson was decapitated, I wouldn't trust her to lead me either. The way the writers have chosen to make her act is just completely nonsensical.

Listen, I know it's the same country and everything so the battle strategies would be mostly the same but I can't get over how copy-pasted HotD and GoT feel. The fact that both sides have dragons here should change things drastically and yet...

Daemon having the nerve to comment how awful of a person Aemond is. I'm sorry, did you project too hard? Tbh I hate how they've changed Aemond's character completely from the book and from the first season where he could have easily gotten the throne for himself but he didn't. And all of that just to have their parallels between Daemon and Aemond and still manipulate the viewers into siding with Daemon. I mean sure, he's refusing to recognize Rhaenyra as his ruler but he's still talking about them ruling together. Meanwhile Aemond went and straight up Dracarys-ed his brother. I have no words left anymore. Just fucking change everything so that Rhaenyra wins and put me out of my misery already. It's clear that that's what they want to the point where I'm not sure how they'll keep true to the story.

Corlys finally deciding to make Baela heir to Driftmark is the epitome of too little, too late. The fact that they made her decline too and with that stupid explanation. As if Joffrey or whoever's now named heir to Driftmark isn't "fire and blood" either. Istg this show fucking hates everyone that isn't Rhaenyra or her children.

Daemon, you had one job! Unfortunately, I'm going to have to say the same for Aemond because I hear he burns the Riverlands in the book. Like, bud, how'd you fumble that so bad? They are yours for the taking (assuming this isn't something the writers just invented).

Love how they gave Rhaenyra one (1) idea in sending Ser Alfred to deal with Daemon and then instantly upstaged it with Jace's idea for the Dragonseeds. Almost as if they are so afraid to let Rhaenyra do anything that they have the men around her do her ruling for her. I mean, this could blow up in their faces.

I have to say that I'm not even excited about next episode. What do I have to look forward to? The writers continuing to butcher all the other characters for the sake of their team Black agenda?

[youthinluv]

our beloved summer

Cause we lost the summer Whеn we lost each other

sypnosis ; videos of zhanghao being part of a documentary during his teens resurfaced and went viral after 5 long years. while many people found him adorable, most people are also curious about his co-star, who he seems to have good chemistry with. what happens when people start to demand their reunion and an interview?

pairing ; zhanghao x gn! reader

wc ; 6175

genre ; inspired by the kdrama of the same name, angst, some fluff

tags ; non idol!reader, academic rivals to friends to lovers, pretty dialogue heavy, kuanjui as their highschool friend bc why not !! zb1 permanent group (real) since i'll have this set in 2015-2021 and 2026 as present day 😜

playlist ; we lost the summer - txt, why didn't you stop me? - mitski

author's note ; mandatory english isn't my first language message here !!!! the backstory (?) for this is actually more lighthearted compared to what u see in the actual kdrama 😭 not rlly happy w how this turned out tbh but i still wanted to push this out. i had to cut a lot down and speed everything to filter out the filler, so it may seem a little rushed/all over the place. the formatting and povs are also kind of a mess so pls bear w me 💔

———

'ZEROBASEONE's Center Zhanghao Goes Viral After Fans Find Him in An Old Documentary From High School'

Sometimes, we can't help but wonder how our favorite idols were back in highschool, or pre-debut, since we know little to nothing about them back then.

But that doesn't seem to be the case for ZEROBASEONE's center Zhanghao, who recently went viral after an old highschool documentary resurfaced, where he starred the films that walked us through his everyday life as a highschool student.

What's even more interesting is that he also had a co-star alongside him, going by the name Y/N L/N. 

While many people found Zhanghao adorable, most seem to be more interested in this mystery person, speculating that they were even dating due to their good chemistry as seen in the documentary.

Fans are now asking for their reunion to see how they're doing and if they are still connected.

———

"Hyung? Who's Y/N L/N?"

Ricky asked, reading through the Koreaboo article that caught his attention after seeing the headline.

Zhanghao, who was on his phone, snapped his head up at the mention of the name.

It was a busy day, they were preparing for one of the many promotional stages they were doing for their debut.

"Huh?" was all he could respond with. He wasn't expecting your name to be mentioned again after so long, especially from one of his own members.

"Oh you didn't see it yet? You're going viral because apparently, people found your old documentary from highschool and someone named Y/N L/N co-starred with you?"

Matthew spoke, he leaned on Ricky's shoulder as he read the article again on the younger man's phone.

Hm. Zhanghao wasn't exactly sure how to answer. In all honesty, he completely forgot about the documentary until now.

Eventually, he settled on a vague answer. 

"Oh, yeah. They were a friend back from highschool."

"Oooh! Do you still keep in touch with them? I'm surprised you never told me about them.”

Matthew leaned forward, now interested.

"Yah! You were friends with Kuanjui back in highschool?"

Ricky suddenly exclaims. The older men both look over and see him watching the documentary in question. Kuanjui, Zhanghao and who they presume to be Y/N were all in one frame together.

"Wow, is this Y/N? They're super pretty."

Zhanghao snatches the phone from the youngest, earning him a whine of protest.

"Do you mind? We're almost up next so you can't be slacking off right now.

Ricky pouts while Matthew laughs at their antics. As if on cue, their manager came in and told everyone else that they had to go soon. Zhanghao returns the phone to Ricky with a warning, and they all make their way to the side stage.

As they do so, Zhanghao's phone gets left behind. The phone lit up and a light 'ding!' signified that a text message got sent to him.

———

Soft music played throughout the room, it was calm and quiet.

Y/N sat near the window, the bright sunlight shining through as they hummed along to the song in the background while she painted calculated strokes on the large canvas.

Just then, Y/N's friend barges in, seemingly frantic.                                 "Hey, Y/N! Have you seen this? Why didn't you tell me you knew??"

Eve stops in her tracks, after seeing the confused expression on their face.

"What?"

"You're telling me you know THE Zhanghao?! And why are people saying you probably even dated him? And you were friends with Kuanjui too?? I'm a fan of theirs, why didn't you tell me?!"

She continued to spit question after question to you, who looked at her with confusion and disbelief.

"Wait, hold on... where did you even get any of this?" Y/N interrupts, causing Eve to trail off from her rambling.

"Oh, so you really haven't seen yet? Apparently you were part of a documentary along with Zhanghao, and it showed you being friends with Kuanjui back in highschool. You're on Koreaboo and Soompi! Why didn't I hear any of this?!"

The mention of a documentary hit them with the realization. Of why Eve was freaking out about this, and everything she said suddenly made sense.

"Wait, what? Documentary? And I'm on Koreaboo and Soompi because of it? Is that why my phone's been blowing up?" they sulk in their seat little.

"I completely forgot I even did that..." they mumbled to themself.

Y/N runs their fingers through their hair. "Okay, fine, yeah it was me. The documentary was all Kuanjui's idea too, since he wanted to pursue being a film director back then before he decided on wanting to be an idol. It's a long story."

"Really? I mean... I have all day." Eve grins, while Y/N shoots back an incredulous look.

"Well good for you then, but I unfortunately don't. I still have to finish this project. It's very important."

"Man! You're such a killjoy!"

Y/N's phone lit up, but this time, with a different tone, which was a relief after the plethora of the notifications they got from random people finding and following their personal social media accounts. 

Looking at the notification, it was a text message from Kuanjui with a simple "hey".

———

"...I'm sorry?" 

Y/N stared at Kuanjui across as if he just told them he lost their most prized possession.

"Look! It won't even be that bad, it's just an interview and you can be done and over with everything by then." he tried to reason.

"Okay, but... why?"

"Why not? The people are curious to see how you're doing, amongst other things."

"Other things like...?" Y/N raises an eyebrow.

"Like how you two are doing as a pair! And I can't blame them, you two really did have good chemistry, everyone can see it, even me! If I didn't know you two personally, I'd also wanna know how the both of you are doing."

Kuanjui leans closer across the table closer to them, a sly grin on his face. "Besides, you'll get paid for it." 

Y/N didn't really have any other counter for that, aside simply not wanting to. And besides, they were at least getting something out of it. After briefly pondering, they let out a sigh.

"...Fine. I'll do it."

Kuanjui almost jumped out of his seat. "Really?! Oh my god!"

"Actually, have you even asked Zhanghao himself yet? Do you think his agency will allow this?"

"Don't worry, I'll get him on board with this. Just trust me."

———

Zhanghao almost choked on his food. Kuanjui had to help him and made him drink water.

After calming down, he tries to distract himself by grilling the meat they had in front of them.

"Are you joking?"

"Nope. And before you ask, both Dispatch and I already talked to your agency about it, they think it'll be great publicity." replied Kuanjui.

Zhanghao sighs. "And here I thought you just wanted to be nice and treat me to dinner. If only I knew you're doing this to try and convince me to this... crazy idea of yours." he pauses. "Why though? You know we're both doing fine even if we don't do this."

"Why not? There's no reason for you to not do it, right? I thought you two ended on okay terms? If there's no bad blood and if you really moved on, then you should have no problem with this." Kuanjui counters, folding his arms and staring at Zhanghao.

The older man looks like he wants to say something back, but no words come out of his mouth.

Zhanghao knows he's right. There really isn't any good reason for him to decline. In reality, he was just avoiding Y/N and wanted to keep that up, even if he didn't know the reason why he was doing that in the first place.

"Please! You'll get paid if you do this, I promise I'll make it worth your time." Kuanjui pleads.

"Of course I did! They said yes too. Unlike you, it didn't take me this much convincing for them to be on board."

Silence followed. Zhanghao clearly seemed to be thinking and considering it, clear enough for Kuanjui to get the hint and attempt to reassure him.

"Look, you don't have to give me an answer right now, so don't worry. But, please please please just think about it and consider doing it."

At this, Zhanghao reluctantly nodded, mentally going through his possible options and ways to approach this situation.

———

"Jiwoong hyung? Can I ask you for some advice?"

Zhanghao asked the man who was making the two of them a cup of coffee. Zhanghao had gotten home quite late and Jiwoong stayed up to wait for him.

"Sure. What's up? Is this about the documentary?"

He replied, placing the mugs on the table.

"Huh? How'd you know?"

Jiwoong chuckled. "Ah, well, I actually overheard Kuanjui talking to some higher ups at the company earlier. Something about you doing an interview with the other person in the documentary?"

"Well... you know how Kuanjui and I had dinner earlier? He actually asked me to do an interview with the other person in the documentary."

"Okay, and you're asking me for advice because...?"

Zhanghao hesitates, before realizing if he doesn't answer honestly, he'll never get the advice he actually needs.

"The thing is, that 'other person' is actually now my ex, and I haven't seen nor heard from them ever since we broke up, so..." he trails off, unsure of what else to say.

As if he read his mind, Jiwoong cuts in "You're avoiding them and now don't know how to handle seeing them again?"

The younger nods, slightly surprised that he managed to almost exactly pin down the situation.

"Well, did you two end and last saw each other on bad terms? Because if that's the case, then I'd probably turn down the offer if that's the case."

"Ah, no..." Zhanghao replies "I actually don't know why I'm avoiding them, especially since it was basically a mutual agreement."

Jiwoong cocks an eyebrow at this. "So you're asking me if you should take the opportunity? Is that it?"

The former nods again, starting to become a little flustered.

"I mean, if you guys didn't have an unhealthy relationship or a messy break up, I don't see why you shouldn't. You said it yourself, it was a mutual breakup. Maybe you two will find some closure too."

Zhanghao lets his head fall to the table, mumbling. "Kuanjui said something along the lines of that too..."

"If two third parties said the same thing, then it's probably best to follow along with it. Trust me, maybe you'll get something good out of it."

———

"I'll do it."

A thud could be heard from the other side of the phone, followed by the sounds of fabric being frantically ruffled. "Seriously?!"

"Yeah. I thought about it and talked to some people, and I've decided that I'll do it."

"Oh my god, thank you so much, Zhanghao! I promise, I'll make it worth your time."

Beep—

And with that, the call between Kuanjui and Zhanghao dropped as the former immediately went to make another call.

"Hello?—"

"Y/N! Zhanghao just called me. He said he'll do it."

"...He did? That's surprising, but good to know."

"Yeah! I still have to make some calls, so I'll talk to you later, but I'll let you know if they'll release more info."

———

"Oh, so you agreed to the interview with Y/N?"

Matthew looks at Zhanghao, recalling the exchange they had a few days before.

"Really?! Oh, I'm definitely seated for that. I binged the episodes they put out and you guys had really good chemistry." Ricky peers up from his phone. 

"Good to know you followed my advice." Jiwoong interjects, stopping himself mid bite, before asking Ricky what he even meant by 'being seated for that'.

"Hm? You asked Jiwoong hyung for advice? Why though?" Matthew asks once again, tilting his head.

"Ah, that's because..."

Zhanghao trails off, stopping himself for a moment.

"Y/N is actually ex. My only one, by the way. I told both the company and Dispatch that so, they might use it as part of the interview. The company didn't seem to mind that though."

The room suddenly went silent, the rest of the members looking at their center, causing him to become flustered.

"Yah! Why'd you guys go all quiet all of a sudden?! You're not supposed to be eavesdropping!"

Then, the room erupted. Now Zhanghao had to endure his members' endless teasing.

Later that night, he sat in his room. After a lot of consideration and debating with himself, he decided to watch the documentary where it all started.

Staring at the screen, he hesitated to press play.

On the other hand, Y/N was also in the same situation. Little did they know that they were both facing the same dilemma.

They both sat in front of their laptops and stared at the screens. In front of them were videos that contained their highschool moments and memories.

After heavy debating, they finally pressed play, all the memories flooding back to them.

—2015—

"Okay, class. I'll be giving back your test papers, so please take note of your scores."

The teacher handed the graded papers back, giving time for everyone to recieve their own.

Y/N recieved their paper. Looking at it, they saw that they got full marks. 

'Yes!'

They cheered to themself, peering across the room to look at Zhanghao to try and see his reaction. 

"Also, congratulations to both Y/N and Zhanghao for getting full marks! Please keep it up."

At that, Y/N had to resist the urge of banging their head against the table.

'Nevermind. Forget it.'

Y/N always saw Zhanghao as an academic rival, but he doesn't know that. He always kept to himself and carried on.

And that's how it always was for them, back and forth. Zhanghao doing his usual, while Y/N did everything to stay on top.

Sometimes it'd work, sometimes it wouldn't. No matter though, Zhanghao never failed to greet them, which in turn made them more irritated about it.

———

"Seriously? I forgot my umbrella..."

Y/N rummaged through her bag for the nth time again, as if by some miracle, the umbrella will show up.

They sighed, looking up and watching the pouring heavy rain.

"You forgot your umbrella?"

Zhanghao came from behind and stood next to them

"Yeah. What, gonna rub it in my face?"

He looked at them incredulously, almost looking offended.

"Um, no? I was gonna offer to walk with you to wherever you were going. I don't think you have an option anyways, since everyone's already pretty much left."

He's right. It was almost 5pm and the school was almost emptied out. If they remained stubborn and turned down his offer, they’d probably have to wait until the rain stopped, which clearly looked like it wasn’t happening anytime soon.

“Ah… I was planning to drop by this cafe nearby before heading home. I’m not sure if you have the time for that, though, so it’s all good if you just go ahead without me.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not leaving you here like this. Besides, I actually have a lot of free time but nothing to do, so I’ll come with you, don’t worry about it.”

Y/N stared at him, unsure of what to feel. Zhanghao then motioned them to go ahead, which they did.

The cafe visit and walk there was silent. Zhanghao didn’t seem to mind but Y/N on the other hand had a lot of thoughts running through their mind. The pair lightly bickered in line, with Zhanghao offering to pay for both their food and drinks while Y/N insisted on covering the expenses instead.

“Please, let me. Just think of it as thanks for helping out tonight.”

Zhanghao then let out a huff in defeat, stating that he’ll pay next time instead and that he’ll walk them home instead. His resolve was made clear and it was obvious he wouldn’t take no for an answer, so they reluctantly accepted.

More silence ensued for the walk until Y/N spoke for the first time since leaving the cafe.

“I’ve been meaning to ask… why are you doing this in the first place?”

“Hm? Why, does it bother you?”

Y/N sighed. “I should be asking you that. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t really like you.” Zhanghao couldn’t help but laugh lightly at that. “Ouch. Is it because you consider me as an academic rival? ‘Cause I feel like the energy you’ve been trying to give me, aside from Kuanjui kind of implying it too…”

“Huh, you knew?” Y/N looked at him shocked, while he returned an amused expression. “You always gave me dirty looks when I’d score higher than you, and you’d always look my way with this smug look when you’re the one who’d score higher than me. It can be pretty obvious you’re rubbing things in sometimes, you know.”

They looked away, embarrassed. Y/N seriously didn’t think they were being that obvious to him about it, but looks like they thought wrong.

The man before them put a reassuring hand on their shoulder as they chewed on their lip trying to come up with an excuse. 

“It’s alright, if it’s that serious for you I can hold back and let you rank 1st every time.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered just a little at the idea of him being willing to do that before they quickly snapped back to reality.

“W–Wait, no! I don’t want you to give all that up just for me, I promise. Besides, if I knew you were doing that, it’ll take away the feeling because it's… inorganic? So please, I’d feel even worse if you did that.”

“...Are you sure?” “Yeah. I’ll just work even harder to keep beating you next time! So you better watch out.”

Y/N nodded, hitting Zhanghao’s shoulder which caused him to burst out laughing.

By the time they both got home, they already considered each other friends and were on much better terms. 

Soon enough, they warmed up to each other and hung out with Kuanjui together. They became an inseparable trio and always were seen together.

“Ohohoh! What’s this, Zhanghao and Y/N talking? That’s a first!”

Kuanjui approaches the pair and they noticed he held a camera in his hand, talking to it.

“Yah, shut up! What are you even doing with that?” Y/N lightly hits his shoulder as Zhanghao bites back a laugh.

“Ow! I’m trying to record as much of our highschool days as I can, like a documentary! What’s it to you anyways?”

He replies, rubbing his arm.

Y/N doesn’t say anything back glaring at him as he turns away and starts rambling to the camera.

Time passed and little by little, Y/N and Zhanghao slowly developed feelings for each other. They grew closer and more comfortable with each other. Glances from across their classroom turned into small, unsure touches, and little gifts with a “it reminded me of you, I thought you’d like it.” [ITALICS]

—2016—

Summer has come. The sun shone brightly and the pair stood at a spot they always came back to. It overlooked the city and they could see the lotus flowers in bloom in the nearby garden.

While Y/N admired the view, Zhanghao admired the person next to him. Silent and looking softly at their smiling face. Y/N felt his gaze and turned their head, slightly flustered once they realized that he’s been staring the entire time.

“You’re staring” “I know.”

“...Are you okay?” At this, Zhanghao gulped, unsure if he should say it. ‘It’s now or never. If you don’t tell them now, when will you?’ he thought to himself. Mustering all his courage, he takes a deep breath and faces Y/N again.

“Can I tell you something? Please promise me this won’t ruin our friendship.”

Y/N looks back at him with a confused expression, unsure of how to respond.

“Um, okay. Is everything alright though? You’re kind of scaring me…”

“I like you, Y/N.”

Just then, it was almost like time stopped between them. Y/N stood in shocked silence for a while before Zhanghao started mumbling.

“Itsokayifyoudon’tlikemebackIjusthopethisdoesn’truinourfriendshipan—”

“Hey, hey! It’s okay!” Y/N took his head between their hands, forcing him to look at them. After noticing he calms down, they continue.

“I, um. Actually like you too, so…” they continue, sheepishly rubbing their arm and looking away, flustered. 

It was Zhanghao’s turn to be shocked and silent. He was visibly processing the information before he looked back at Y/N. “Seriously?”

He gets a nod in response. After realizing that Y/N really was being serious, he couldn’t help but break out into a smile and pull them in a tight hug.

They both laugh and start to excitedly talk about where their relationship goes from here, all while they looked back at the colorful lotus flowers in front of them.

———

“Hey, are you serious about taking the Gaokao so soon?”

Y/N asked Zhanghao, who sat across from them and next to Kuanjui.

“Hmm, well, yeah. I actually meet the criteria and have the qualifications for it. You should go for it, too! You’re just as qualified for that as I am.”

“And leave me here?” Kuanjui cuts in, whining.

“Urgh. I dunno, as much as I wanna do that, I also wanna take it slow and enjoy highschool, y’know? Besides, aren’t you taking up Geoscience? I think I’ll be fine if I don’t rush things since I’m taking Fine Arts.” 

Y/N sighs.

Zhanghao hums. “That’s true, but I’m actually not that sure anymore. I might take music if Geoscience doesn’t work out.”

Kuanjui looks up from his food, speaking with a stuffed face. The table shook at the sudden movement, causing the camera to almost lose its balance.

“What are you even still doing with that camera? You’re still doing that documentary?”

Y/N asks and they only earn a ‘shut up’ from him. He then turns to Zhanghao to ask.

“Seriously? So suddenly?”

“Like I said, only if it doesn’t work out. Who knows?”

“You seem so relaxed about a pretty big decision, Hao. You should take this seriously!”

Y/N lightly scolds and hits him. The trio all burst into laughter as the topic starts to divert to their school and classes.

—2018—

“Wah! I’m so glad we both got into the same uni!” Y/N exclaims as they pull Zhanghao into a hug upon meeting each other. “Still, you’re a year level above me which kinda pisses me off. I should’ve taken the Gaokao when you did, too.” they sigh as the pair pulls away from each other.

Zhanghao laughs at this. “Yeah, yeah. It’s a shame Kuanjui had to go back to Taiwan though, we could’ve had a complete reunion!”

“Well, it’s not like there’s much we can do about it anyways. If anything, I can’t believe you dropped Geosci for music! You play the violin now, right? How’s that going for you?

”It was a pretty big decision, I admit, but I found that I really have a passion for music compared to Geosci.” Zhanghao replies, before briefly changing the topic.

“Hey, why don’t we talk about this over lunch instead? My treat, to celebrate your very first day here!”

“Really? Who am I to turn down free lunch?”

The couple breaks out in a fit of giggles as they walk off, discussing a multitude of different topics.

—2021—

“Baobei.”

Zhanghao quietly calls out. Y/N hums, turning to look at him as they both stood at the same spot where they both got together.

The man before them pulls out a small box, softly smiling as he hands it to Y/N.

“Happy 5th anniversary to us.”

Y/N looks at him in shock, before opening the box and finding a Chai hairpin that were decorated with lotus flowers at the ends.

“I know you don’t normally wear hairpins but I saw it and it reminded me of you. It reminded me of us and how we got together when the lotus were in full bloom back in summer. Well, aside from the meaning of the flower itself.”

Zhanghao explains, lightly chuckling at the end.

“Are you kidding? It's so pretty. I love it. I love you.”

They both lean into each other, and as they gazed at the view overlooking the night city, Y/N whispers.

“Happy 5th to us, love.”

———

“I’m leaving the country soon.”

Zhanghao breaks the silence. They stood at their favorite spot once again, where they’d shared a lot of significant memories together.

“Huh?”

“You know Yuehua, right? I told you about it. The agency’s been following me around for over the past 3 years now. I’ve decided to sign with them now that I got my degree. I want to become an idol.”

Y/N stared at him, wanting to say a million things but in the end, couldn’t bring themselves to say it all. “...I see.”

With a deep breath, they fully turn to him with a sad look.

“Let's break up then.”

“...What?” Zhanghao’s brows furrowed.

“Let’s break up, Hao. We can’t be together like this. If you want to become an idol and leave the country for it, then I’ll let you. You can’t be in a relationship as a trainee and I don’t wanna hold you back from your dreams.” “Wait, can’t we talk about this first?” he slowly becomes more panicked at the situation.

“Baobei. Please understand.” Y/N pleads.

 “I don’t want to hold you back and maintain a long distance relationship. I don’t want to distract you. Believe me, I don’t want this either, but it’s better for both of us.”

The couple stares at each other, either one unable to say anything further as their tears start to fall. Zhanghao swallows.

“I’m sorry.” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

Y/N hesitates, but starts rummaging through their bag. They pulled out a small box that looked all too familiar to the pair. They take the hairpin out of it, snapping one of the pins off and placing it on Zhanghao’s palm with a small ‘here’.[ITALICS]

“We might not be together anymore from this point on, but promise me you’ll keep this, take good care of it, and carry it around with you when you can, so when we meet again, we can piece them together. Doesn’t matter if either one of us has someone else by then. It’ll serve as a reminder of the times we had and things we shared. I love you.”[ITALICS]

They both burst into tears, hugging each other as if their life depended on it, before deciding to (hesitantly) part ways for good.

That was the last time they saw each other since then.

—PRESENT DAY—

“Kuanjui, was this really a good idea?”

Y/N sighs, as they look in the mirror and restlessly adjust their clothes. They seem to be making sure that something stays in their pockets.

“Don’t get cold feet now, Y/N! It’ll be fine, I promise.”

“When is he coming? I haven’t seen him in ages so I don’t know how to–”

Y/N’s sentence gets interrupted as the studio’s doors open, revealing Zhanghao as he stepped in. He looks around before noticing Kuanjui and Y/N standing and staring at him. Upon seeing them, he gives a polite smile and a small bow.

“Um. I’ll go grab a drink. Stay here.” Kuanjui tells Y/N and before they could even do anything, he was already out of the room.

Traitor!

Sighing, they turn back to Zhanghao and observe him. He approaches them and they hold their breath.

“Hi.” Zhanghao greets.

“Hey.”

“Long time no see, huh?”

Silence settles between them and neither one is sure of what else to say.

“...You’ve changed, Hao.” Y/N musters up a smile, but it’s clear to both of them that it’s a sad one. 

“Yeah. So did you.” 

“So you’re an idol now? Congrats. I’m so happy for you.”

Something inside Zhanghao visibly shifts but Y/N can’t tell what exactly. 

As he opens his mouth to try and give back a reply, a staff member comes in, cutting them both off. They decide to get a chance to properly talk again later as they were both led into the interview room, where the staff member explains the the basics

“You guys will be sitting there and we’ll simply show you questions on a card.You can answer as honestly and freely as possible. Because of that, you only have the flow of the interview.”

They both nod and the cameras start rolling. They do the introductions and read the first question.

‘How did you two meet?’

“This was already pretty obvious but we went to the same school and were classmates.”

Zhanghao starts.

‘What were your first impressions of each other?’

Y/N lightly giggles at this question.

“I considered Zhanghao to be my academic rival but I eventually found out that he didn’t see me that way and only thought of me as a mutual friend thanks to Kuanjui. After he helped me out, we became friends.”

Zhanghao chuckles at this before answering.

“Well, yeah. Like they said, I only knew them because they were friends with Kuanjui. I did think they were pretty nice at first, then I thought they were cold after a while because I thought they hated me .”

At that, the studio’s atmosphere instantly lightened and they were less tense with each other now.

‘We heard that you two used to date. What was the relationship like?’

“Ah, well… we were pretty much inseparable once we became friends, so not much changed and we spent a lot of time together. I guess we were more comfortable and open with each other?”

Y/N answers, careful not to say anything that may cause a scandal. Zhanghao simply nods in agreement.

‘Why did you two break up?’

The room goes silent for a while as the pair looked at each other, gulping. As Zhanghao hesitates to answer,  Y/N cuts in.

“Just differences. He wanted to be an idol and had to move to Korea for that. I wasn’t sure on what to do yet but I stayed behind. I didn’t want to hold him back by keeping a long distance relationship and distract him from his dreams.”

“It was a mutual agreement, so it wasn’t a messy breakup or anything. We were together for over 5 years.”

Zhanghao adds as he nods.

Using past tense to discuss their relationship stung them more than both had expected. You’d think they should be used to it by now.

‘Did you two keep in contact afterwards?’

“Honestly? No. As far as I know, this is the first time we’ve seen each other since we broke up.”

“Yeah. Even though we lived in the same city and ended up moving to the same one as well, this is the first time we've seen each other in person after all that.”

‘Did your lives turn out the way you expected them to 10 years back?’

“No, actually. I wasn’t expecting to end up being on good terms with Zhanghao back then, moreso dating him. I also wasn’t expecting to move out to the country either, so I wouldn’t exactly say that.

“Absolutely not. I wanted to pursue Geoscience at first, but I eventually decided that it wasn’t for me and that I wanted to pursue music instead. So I switched schools and picked up the violin. If you told my 16 year old self that I’d be a K-pop idol 10 years from now, I’d probably think you were crazy.”

The pair laughs at this, knowing that it was true for the both of them.

‘For this segment, we’ll be leaving you alone in the room for 10 minutes. Is there anything you want to say to each other before we wrap up?’

The room went silent and their faces slowly dropped. It stayed like that for almost a minute as the staff all walked out.

“Um…” Y/N starts, turning to Zhanghao, unsure if they should even say this. ‘It’s now or never, Y/N’

Taking a deep breath, they continue. “When I was breaking up with you, I was kind of hoping you’d fight for us a little more. I know that I ended it, but why didn’t you chase after me? Sure, I was trying my best to convince you, but why didn’t you stop me?”

Zhanghao’s eyes turned glassy as he stared at them, watching while they continued.

Y/N takes a deep breath. “I was constantly lying to myself that I was over you, even though I moved to Seoul after you did, and throughout these years I would silently wish that I’d run into you and meet you again.” their voice cracks slightly as tears prick their eyes.

Zhanghao smiles sadly. “I don’t know if you knew this, but ever since we broke up, I’d constantly ask one of your close friends for updates. Everyday, I’d ask them. When they told me you were moving to Korea, I was a little devastated because I knew I couldn't ask them anymore, and finding you would be much harder now.”

“You would constantly look for me?”

“Yeah. When I debuted, I thought about you and how I’ve finally achieved my dreams, but you weren’t there for me anymore. You weren’t with me. And I didn't know how to feel about that.”

“Oh.” 

…

“I watched you though. I watched you on the show, your debut show, all of it. I watched your life through pictures and the videos your staff would upload.” Y/N fidgets with their hands.

“...Do you remember that promise from before? When we broke up? Here.” Zhanghao asks out of nowhere, pulling out the same Chai hairpin from 5 years before and handing his piece.

Y/N looks back and forth between the pin in their hand and the man before them, tears threatening to spill. “You… really kept it?”

“Of course. I’m not one to go back on my promises, you know?”

At this, Y/N pulls out their half, the one they were fiddling with in their pocket earlier.

“I just… didn’t think you would. I was planning to give you my [ITALICS] half instead.”

“Do you still wanna piece them together?” Zhanghao asks, and Y/N contemplates on it. Complete silence once again.

“No.”

“...No?”

“Yeah, no. Here, keep your piece. The fact that you still remembered and even brought your half of the pin already means a lot to me. You can think of it as me giving back to you. This pin already means a lot to me, so I want you to keep it for good now.” Y/N hands back the pin.

“Okay. If that’s what you want.”

At this, the staff quietly open the door and pour back in, indicating the end of the 10 minutes, as well as the interview as a whole.

They both dab away their tears and take the time to calm down. After doing so, they did the outro and were finally free to go.

Y/N checked their phone as soon as they got off and saw that Kuanjui had to leave to take care of something. ‘Let me know how it went’, the text read.

They stepped out of the building and were greeted with the sun shining brightly over them, completely contrasting to the bittersweet feelings they were having at the moment.

“So…” 

Zhanghao breaks the silence, hands stuffed in his pockets.

“I’ll see you around?”

“That’s it? You’re not even gonna exchange socials, numbers, anything?”

Y/N lightly scoffs, and Zhanghao genuinely smiles at this.

“Looks like you didn’t change much.” they exchange both socials and numbers, and couldn’t help but stare at each other in silence afterwards.

Zhanghao’s phone rings. Seeing the caller’s ID, he turns to Y/N. “My members seem to be looking for me now. Let’s catch up some other time, yeah?” he smiles.

“Yeah. We can do that.”

“It was nice seeing you Y/N. In all honesty, I was afraid to see you again, but I’m more reassured now after all this…” he trails off.

“And I missed you. A lot.”

“I missed you too. A lot.” Y/N smiles at him, mirroring his words.

“I’ll see you then. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Zhanghao walks away and Y/N had to resist the urge to chase after him. Watching his figure leave their peripheral vision, they finally allowed a lingering thought to take over them.

“I still love him, don’t I?”

[dawnanddorisqna]

Hey, thanks for putting up an ask blog! Don't know if tumblr is the best place to put it for social media engagement, but then again Neil Gaiman seems to be enjoying himself so who am I to judge?

I have a whole bunch of questions, and I'm not sure if it'd be annoying to flood your inbox with them, so feel free to pick and choose any of these to reply.

Questions for Dawn: who would you consider to be the animated 'it' girl right now?

What do you think about the recent trend of 'fleshwashing' that Disney has been pushing when it comes to remakes? Is this part of a bias against toons when it comes to casting?

In your opinion, who do you think is the best 'old-school' toon who still actively performs? Questions for Doris: Has toontown managed to avoid the plague of gentrification that hit a lot of other older neighborhoods in LA?

Is there a union for animated actors? If there is, how effective is it in your opinion? Have things gotten better or worse for animated actors over the years?

Did you ever get to know your animator? If not, would you have wanted to know them?

We should probably get a reddit at some point. Everyone on tumblr has been amazing though. We do have an instagram, @dawn_doodle and @dorisdoodle_toon.

There's also a fanmade discord! One we need to check on more after we're done...preparing some new things.

Who do I think is the current it girl of animation? It changes so fast, but my vote right now is POMNI! Who doesn't feel like Pomni like daily? Also, indie!

Check back in a month when my answer may change again!

What do we think of all these live action remakes? I still don't mind them too much, but Avatar on netflix might be unnecessary. I'm starting to wear thin. Doris gave a rambling answer on this before and I don't think her opinion has changed.

Best old School toon still in business? I think we actually have an agreement on this one and that's this 2D Girl boss!

Was Toon town able to avoid any gentrification? Here's Doris with a history lesson:

As some people know, ToonTown was left to the toons, and that was great. We could vote for changes in the town and run it ourselves, but that didn't mean we were separate from California and certain laws. So it was devastating when it was decided that the land we lived on wasn't fully ours and the decision to build a freeway system was still being considered. This was in the 50s and I had already moved out of ToonTown, but I heard about the protests and letters written to Earl Warren.

None of it helped, and in 1956, Eisenhower signed the highway act and a freeway was constructed. So the town wasn't as saved as the movie "Who Frames Roger Rabbit" lets you believe.

Since the toons owned ToonTown, they couldn't just completely destroy it. We were just told to move. So the town is split up into districts. There's one near Disneyland, another a few streets from Universal. Always near studios. They like keeping an eye on their assets. So at least we got to keep the town in some way.

Is there a union for toons? There have been attempts. But in the end were considered intellectual property of the studios. fully owned and by contract from the moment the first line is sketched. A lot of older toons have a little more freedom from those contracts. By older, I'm talking Bugs Bunny and the Peanuts kids. That's starting to get harder though as studios are stating to hold a tighter grip on animation. It's less a creative thought process and more business. Doris says it's colder in a behind closed doors way. I say that cold is starting to leak into the outside. So yeah, no union, especially for newly drawn stars, and well...things aren't exactly getting better.

Did we get to know our creators?

Doris did!

We all do I guess while being drawn. but it's not as personal now. I was kinda made through a committee. So there are artists who really care and I would've wanted to get to know them, but there are also execs, studio owners, managers, all hovering around to check on their investment. And once approved, you are under studio control. It's nice if the artists can stick around at the studio, but most times they're laid off once the creation is done and they need to go work at another place. This goes into that whole colder thing. From what Doris has shown me, it was a little more fun before. Animators and toons would just hang out I guess.

They would even have fun with their voice actors.

Today, studios want big celebrities to give us our voices. So they usually come in to lay down the track and then leave with the paycheck. Not all though, I heard Jack Black like to see the characters he's given a voice too. It just doesn't happen often.

Sorry it took a while to get to your question! We're trying to get a few things going right now so our timing is way off.

Also, a list of questions is always good, keep em coming!

[superman86to99]

Action Comics #700 (June 1994)

"THE BATTLE FALL OF METROPOLIS"! Metropolis falls, quite literally! But, on the bright side, so does Lex Luthor, because Lois Lane finally busts his ass after 700 issues (give or take).

This super-sized anniversary issue starts with Lois recapping all the dirt she's dug up on "Lex Luthor Jr." during the past several months, including the fact that he's actually the original, supposedly dead Lex Luthor in a clone body. Lex tried to have Lois discredited by planting wacky headlines with her byline at the Daily Planet's computers and framing her for financial crimes (on top of blowing up her apartment), but now she finally has hard evidence of his crimes thanks to her informant at LexCorp, only known as "Deep Quote." (Is this the first reference to Linda Lovelace's oeuvre in a Superman story? Comics and/or porno historians, sound off in the comments.)

Despite having been fired from the Planet (see: "wacky headlines" above), Lois manages to present her evidence in front of Commissioner Henderson, Perry White, and Planet owner Franklin Stern... who still thinks this cloning business sounds like "science fiction." That's a weird thing to say when you live in the DC Universe. Hell, there's a whole government agency devoted to cloning just outside Metropolis! Or maybe I should say there was, because, right when Stern is about to apologize to Lois, everyone hears a massive explosion coming from Project Cadmus' direction -- as seen last issue, some of Lex's armored henchmen just dropped a goddamn mountain on Cadmus while fighting Superman and Superboy.

Superboy, who was all laughs last issue but seems to be taking his friends' apparent deaths much harder now, wants to look for survivors, but Superman again tells him there's no point, because "there's no one alive in Cadmus that needs our help anymore." Instead, they go look for the Lex-Men who caused this whole mess so they can bring them to justice. They're soon joined by Supergirl, who takes every opportunity she can get to destroy LexCorp property since breaking up with Lex himself in her recent miniseries (and that was before she found out he's actually a creepy old guy in a young body).

Meanwhile, Lex (whose clone body is rapidly deteriorating) is hiding in his yacht with his most faithful cronies, his scientific aide Dr. Sydney Happersen and his long-time physician Dr. Gretchen Kelley, the same woman who pretended to be his "mother" for the Lex Jr. ruse. Since Lex is gonna be here for a while, Dr. Kelley volunteers to go to the city and pick up some meds for him. Lex thinks that's a great idea... until he sees Kelley on TV, spilling the beans on his whole operation to Lois. That's right, Kelley was "Deep Quote" all along! Which was pretty obvious if you've been paying attention, but then again Lex has a long history of rejecting the obvious.

Kelley also spilled the beans on Lex's location to Superman, who suddenly bursts into the yacht to nab him once and for all. But Lex has an ace that he's been hiding up his sleeve for a long-ass time: a slew of "sonic torpedoes" reverse engineered from tech left behind by the alien invaders from DC's 1988 Invasion! crossover, which he hid somewhere under Metropolis in case he ever felt like pulverizing the city. Lex, who thinks he'll die any moment, seems perfectly willing to take millions with him -- until Superman asks him if he really wants the people of Metropolis, "his" city, to remember him as the guy who blew the whole place up. The "American Hitler," as Superman puts it.

Lex, who got into this whole mess in the first place because he wanted people to love him more than Superman, breaks down and agrees not to launch the torpedoes.

And then, for the first time in his life... Dr. Happersen disobeys Lex Luthor's wishes. Too bad those wishes were "let's not destroy a city."

After years of quietly taking abuse from Lex, Happersen finally snaps and launches those torpedoes. Lex tries to stop him by shooting at him with the death laser in his iron lung (of course Lex Luthor has a death laser in his iron lung), but it's too late. The torpedoes are activated, meaning that the city is as cooked as Happersen himself, who dies in Superman's arms seconds later.

Superman asks Luthor where the torpedoes are buried, but Lex, who looks genuinely distraught, honestly doesn't know. He always let Happersen handle little details like that.

Before Superman can even reach Metropolis, one of the torpedoes has already hit the WGBS building. He gets there right in time to race against the torpedo headed for the Daily Planet... but, as you might have guessed from this issue's cover, the torpedo wins the race.

If the city hadn't been evacuated a few issues ago due to the Underworlders' terrorist attacks, everyone in the Planet's staff would be dead now (thanks, ugly sewer mutant terrorists!). Superman does manage to prevent Lois, Ron Troupe, and, unfortunately, Jimmy Olsen from getting rolled over by the Planet's iconic globe after the building collapses, but only by destroying what's left of it. Perry White is following the action from the Planet's temp offices outside the city, and he looks about as emotionally devastated as he did in the issue when his son died.

Meanwhile, the other underground torpedoes are doing their best to turn Metropolis' skyline into a flat line. The only major building spared is the one belonging to Clark Kent's old employer, Newstime Magazine, but only because its owner happens to be a demonic entity with torpedo-deflecting powers, Lord Satanus. To his credit, Satanus does plant an idea in Superman's mind for how to stop the rest of the torpedoes: digging a big ditch all across Metropolis to intercept them (thanks, demonic entity posing as media magnate!).

As Superman, Superboy, and Supergirl stop most of the torpedoes, Satanus helps them out by redirecting the remaining ones to a more deserving target: LexCorp's giant L-shaped building, which is now shaped like a bunch of rubble.

With the torpedo problem solved, Luthor is finally arrested and exposed to the citizens of Metropolis as a no-goodnik, as Superman begins the long task of rebuilding the city by putting the Daily Planet globe back together. Yes, Metropolis is in pretty bad shape, and even Superman himself seems discouraged for a moment, but as Lois correctly points out: hey, at least it ain't Coast City!

Creator-Watch:

This issue marks the end of Roger Stern's distinguished run as Action Comics writer, which began exactly 100 issues ago... sort of, since he started writing Action when it was a weekly series and Superman only got two pages per issue. When John Byrne suddenly left the Superman books some months after that, in late 1988, Stern was an obvious choice to replace him, given his closeness to Byrne, his ample talents, and, well, the fact that he was already there.

Since then, Stern became one of the main architects of the over-arching storyline that made this era in Superman comics so special. His role as the Super-Squad's resident "continuity cop" enriched these comics tremendously. For instance, according to Dan Jurgens, it was Stern's idea to bring back an obscure character called Hank Henshaw as the Cyborg Superman instead of creating a new baddie for "Reign of the Supermen," which is the sort of thing that makes digging through hundreds of backissues worth it. Stern also wrote the bulk of the years-long Eradicator saga, Supergirl's evolution from lump of goo to proper hero, and, of course, Lex Luthor's long, strange journey leading to this issue (more on that later).

It's hard to imagine our beloved '86-'99 period without Roger Stern. Good thing he'll be back before too long, albeit in a reduced capacity...

Character-Watch:

With this issue, we a bid adieu to doctors Sydney Happersen and Gretchen Kelley, two of the most memorable characters ever to serve as Luthor's lackeys. Both were introduced in Byrne's Superman #2 (1987), and it's interesting that both were instantly portrayed as somewhat sympathetic: Happersen doesn't want to remove the kryptonite from Metallo's chest because he thinks it'd kill him (and looks shocked when Luthor pulls it out anyway), and Kelley is the one that warns Lex about Lana Lang's bizarre allergy to truth serum.

(Probably didn't help that they had a serious mold problem in that room.)

It's also interesting that Kelley was the only lackey on a first-name basis with Lex, hinting at the backstory that was revealed in Action #660: she was a small-town doctor until a young Lex swept her off her feet and turned her into his lover, only to ditch her for someone with larger boobs. Kelley became an alcoholic and ended up in jail, ruining her medical career, until Lex came to "reclaim" her and gave her a permanent job. I'm guessing the "old lovers" bit was added mainly to make the Lex Jr. story seem plausible, but it also helps explain why someone like her would stick with Lex for so long. She was clearly still in love with him, and the Lex Jr. ruse allowed her to imagine an alternate life where they were more than just employer and employee. I always like this bit from Action #676, before readers found out Lex Jr. was Lex Sr.:

In the Lex Jr. storyline, Kelley wasn't just lying to the world; she was lying to herself. Until she just couldn't lie anymore, I guess.

As for Happersen, he never had a backstory, but he didn't really need one. He was the prototypical meek henchman who'd do anything for his boss despite being treated like trash, which is why I found his breakdown at the end both logical and satisfying. Kelley and Happersen will each get a couple of flashback appearances after this issue, but they've been completely ignored by every revamp and reboot since. As much as I like them, I'm completely okay with that because their stories are over, and that's such a rare thing in comics.

Plotline-Watch:

The big subplot in this issue is Lana Lang's wedding to Pete Ross, which she said she wanted to hold "as soon as possible" after encountering Bizarro (and confirming that she's absolutely over Clark) in Action #697. Lois, Clark, and Supergirl are a bit busy to attend, but Ma and Pa Kent are there and even lend Lana their farmhouse for the ceremony. Other than Pa watching the chaos in Metropolis on TV, these scenes are completely disconnected from the rest of the issue, and I suspect they're only here for two reasons: 1) to tease readers with "Someone's getting married!" in the preview blurbs (remember that Lois and Clark had been engaged for a few years by now), and 2) to give Superman legends Curt Swan and Murphy Anderson some work. That last part makes the scenes worth it, in my opinion, especially since we even get a peek at how Swan would draw the Super-Mullet when Lana is thinking back on everything she's gone through with Clark.

The "we've had buildings dropped on us" scene Lana remembers is from Action #644, and the one who dropped the building was actually Supergirl/Matrix when she was suffering from Eradicator-triggered insanity. The "I've been kidnapped" issue, meanwhile, is Byrne's classic Superman #2, which leads us to...

Intentionally or not, there's a good numbers of parallels between this issue and the aforementioned Superman #2: Lana's most tragic moment and Lana's happiest moment; Happersen and Kelley's introduction and their exit; Superman angrily bursting into Lex's office and triumphantly bursting into his yacht; Lex getting away with it and Lex getting arrested. But the most significant connection is the fact that Superman #2 was the first time Lex put on his kryptonite ring, which is what sets off the long chain of events leading to this issue: him getting cancer (Action #600), faking his own death (Action #660), moving his brain to a younger body (revealed in Action #678), being infected with a clone-only disease (circa Man of Steel #31), and ending up as a sick, raving lunatic in an iron lung outfitted with death lasers.

What's definitely intentional, knowing Stern, is the fact that Lex's last stand happens in the Sea Queen, the same luxury yacht where he first met Superman (The Man of Steel #4). Both issues end with Lex getting arrested, but presumably he'll be behind bars for longer than two hours this time -- or maybe not, since the last time we see Luthor, he's thinking that "there are cards I've yet to play!" We'll find out what he means in Action #701.

While Lois is presenting her evidence against Lex, we learn that she first came into contact with Dr. Kelley/"Deep Quote" at the end of the "Bizarro's World" storyline, right after she learned of Lex Jr.'s sickness/shocking baldness (Superman #88). Unsurprisingly, Lex didn't like Lois seeing him like that and ordered Happersen to capture her, but Kelley helped her escape and they hit it off.

When exactly did Kelley decide to turn on Lex? A flashback suggests that it happened during the Supergirl miniseries, where she has an uncharacteristic outburst towards Lex for the way he "uses" Supergirl even though she loves him. We didn't even comment on that scene at the time, but now it seems pretty obvious that, even though Kelley does care for Supergirl, she was actually talking about herself.

Deep cut: at one point, Superman tries to find Lex by taking a Lex-Man's helmet to Professor Hamilton, who says that he recognizes this technology from the armor Lex once trapped poor Jose "Gangbuster" Delgado in, forcing him to act as a remote-controlled bodyguard (Adventures #451). Hamilton's efforts go nowhere, but I appreciate being reminded of Jose's most delightfully bizarre misadventure ever. Miss that dude and his horrible luck.

I also appreciate the shout out to Invasion!, and I wonder if Stern was planning Lex's sonic torpedo gambit from way back in Superman #28, which includes a scene in which Pentagon officials give Lex access to the alien weapons recovered in Australia. I also wonder if Lex thought to himself, "Hmmm, Australia... seems like a nice place to pretend to be from if I ever clone myself a new body."

Something that doesn't pay off is the implication that Colin Thornton/Lord Satanus would become a major villain now that Luthor is (temporarily) out of the picture. He'll pop up here and there, but something tells me that if Stern had stayed on Action, he would have made sure Satanus factored more heavily in big storylines going forward (or even just one big storyline).

Patreon-Watch:

This post ended up being double-sized like the issue itself, so this time we owe double-thanks to our patrons Aaron, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush, Raphael Fischer, Kit, Sam, Bol, and Gaetano Barreca, for helping us take the time to write it. Double-thanks! Join them at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99

And believe it or not, we have even more to say about this issue, so don't miss Don Sparrow's section after the jump...

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

We begin with the cover, and it’s something of a strange one for such a huge numbered issue.  Jackson Guice rightly recognizes that the destruction of the Daily Planet is the most arresting image within the story, so that’s what he highlights, Raiders of the Lost Ark-style, but it’s a bit hard to know what to focus on here.  It’s not the best figure drawing of Lois Lane, with her hands in a claw like shape, but she’s still front and centre.  The other possible area of focus is on the Daily Planet globe itself, which then boasts an uncomfortably spread-eagle Superman trying to stop its roll.  But, I give points to Guice for going with a moment from within the story, and not just a generic “this is an anniversary issue” type cover, like we often see. Plus the cross streets of Jurgens/Grummett/Bog/Kitson on the street sign is a fun find.

Inside, we’re greeted immediately with a full splash of a satisfied Lois.  Guice’s Lois has always looked photo-referenced to me, for better or worse.  In this case, I think Guice is a little let down by the colourist, who extends the pinkness of Lois’ bottom lip all the way to the corner of her mouth which turns her smile into more of a smirk than I think the inks on their own intend.

On page 6 we get another version of Guice’s rubble pits—not a strength for him as much as someone like Tom Grummett, who was born to draw rubble (And everything else!) as the edges of the pit always look a little sharp to me.   

Superboy’s rage at the destruction of Cadmus is well-observed—and Superboy looks very much like the youth he is—he can sometimes be drawn like a small adult, instead of having softer, teenaged features, but Guice does a good job on this page. Supergirl’s coy expression as she lets the libidinous Superboy down gently on page 14 is a funny drawing, and a great character moment in all the action, to boot.

It may just be novelty, or nostalgia, but the quieter moments back in Smallville, as Lana Lang prepares for her wedding ceremony, are my favorite pages.  Curt Swan’s gentle, naturalistic lines are a nice counterpoint to the hectic pace of the fall of Metropolis.   

The entire page of Lois revealing Lex Junior’s crimes to a live television audience is all well drawn—there’s an urgency in Lois’ posture to the camera that feels very real as you read it.  This, followed up shortly by Lex’s horror at Dr. Kelley’s betrayal is another great piece of drawing.  Then, on the very next page, Superman Kool-Aid-Man-ing his way through Lex’s hideaway is maybe the best single image of Superman in the book. 

There’s a cute tribute to former Super-teamster, Jerry Ordway, as Peggy (who shares her first name with Jerry Ordway’s real life wife) plays De Koven and Scott’s “Oh Promise Me” not on a Steinway piano, as she might have on our Earth, but rather a “Jordway” piano.  If the lyrics we see sound familiar, it could be because this same wedding song appeared in numerous film and TV weddings, including All in the Family, Mama’s Family and, for you Canadian readers, the Sullivan-produced Anne of Green Gables: The Sequel, during Diana’s wedding.  I do wonder if Revered Brewster was supposed to look like Ordway—his hairstyle is similar, though Brewster is a little heavier set than Ordway.

Back to the “action” of Action #700, pages 33-35 all make great use of a diagonal panel layout, to maximize the space as Superman gives chase to the missiles, which unfortunately find their target, the Daily Planet.  Perry White’s shattered expression as he watches the place he loves fall apart is particularly haunting. 

The effect of Collin Thornton’s demonic helmet overlaid his human form is a great visual.  Lastly, for those of us old enough to remember the attacks of 9-11, there’s an eerie prescience to these images of tangled debris and smoking skylines.

On the whole, the events here—Luthor going full villain, Metropolis being reduced to rubble—seem fitting in scale for a nice big round issue number like 700.  But, given how relatively quickly these changes are undone in the issues to come, it also feels symbolic of the post-Death-and-Return era of comics—just trying status-quo changing “events” and trying to recapture the buzz they stumbled into with the death storyline.          

SPEEDING BULLETS:

There’s a funny in-joke during Lois’ phone call with Superman, as editor Mike Carlin slips in a warning to Tom Grummett about an issue being late.  Though Grummett is not normally known for lateness, at this time he is drawing both Superboy and Robin comics monthly, so he can be forgiven for the odd slip.

Jonathan Kent railing at the television in response to Lex’s seeming impunity feels completely modern to me, reading it in 2024.  Honestly, couldn’t you see certain political factions of today defending Lex’s actions, had they been perpetrated by the de facto leader of their party?

How do we feel about Lex not being quite villainous enough to blow up Metropolis?  Does it feel like a cop-out, or would it have put Lex into a level of villainy the writers didn’t want to go to?  Story-wise, I have to admit, it feels strange that the disasters seen on the cover and throughout bear the fingerprints of Sidney Happersen, and not Lex Luthor, the greatest criminal mind of our age. [Max: I like it! Lex is evil, but he does seem to love Metropolis in his way, and he wouldn't spend so much time on philanthropic ventures if he didn't need people's adoration on some level. I think this is an interesting conundrum Stern put him in, and having Happersen do what Lex couldn't is a clever way to make sure the issue didn't end in a big anti-climax.]

GODWATCH: As with many a Roger Stern script, religious references abound in this issue, particularly during the wedding scenes, where the newlywedded Lana and Pete certainly seem devout. The unabashed love the Kents show for Lana is very moving throughout. [Max: There's also Lex saying "God forgive me" when he admits he doesn't know how to stop the torpedoes, which is a scene that's always stuck with me. THAT'S his real punishment: not jail, but actually experiencing guilt for a moment.]

As this entire issue is a study in contrasts, we jump from a country church wedding to a demonic character named LORD SATANUS giving Superman the firebreak idea that saves the city!  There’s something very funny about that.

Does Collin Thornton know that Clark Kent is Superman?  It doesn't seem like he does, but with his array of observational powers, you’d think he’d have figured it out. [Max: I'm sure there's something somewhere that contradicts it, but I like the idea of Thornton offering Clark that editor job years ago because he knew his conscience had been compromised by the Eradicator and he wanted a superpowered pawn to use against Blaze.]

Do you agree with Supergirl, that Dr. Kelley is someone to be admired, or given mercy?  Sure, she helped bring down Lex in his latest evil, but she went along with so much, for so long, she’s hardly heroic, is she? [Max: I assume that by "I hope the courts are merciful," Supergirl means "I hope they give her prison library access and not the electric chair." I do feel sorry for Kelley, but she definitely deserves to go to jail for a long time for all those other horrible crimes she didn't prevent, starting with Lana's torture.]

[jellypopjoo]

tied up. (suh kyungmin 서경민)

synopsis : your friend kyungmin who’s struggling with his recent college assignment, pleads for your assistance. so you help him with it, as well as with tying up his hair.

genre : fluff, friends with crushes

warnings : death jokes, uhhhh idk there’s a lotta fake bickering between you two ig??

wc : 1.3k

-

-

this phone call had lasted way longer than you had intended, but that seemed to be a common theme when it came to your good friend kyungmin. he was never one to talk too much, except for when it came to you. he could talk for hours, even on autopilot.

“kyungmin, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t die any time soon,” today’s topic… was a hectic one.

“y/n, y/n I’m terribly sorry but to be fair it’s this assignment’s fault,” kyungmin was losing his mind! but what else was new?

“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” defusing your friend was never your strong suit, with his bold and stubborn personality and all.

“not that bad…” oh, here it comes. “why don’t you try taking econ then, see how you like it!”

“absolutely not,” you shut him down quickly.

“okay then! so the least you can do is try to ease my pain,” and here comes the part where he throws in a request from you.

“good god, why did I befriend you?” you kid, a common theme between the two of you.

“to be honest y/n, I don’t wanna hear it,” you smile on the other end, because truth be told you did love his little attitude.

“yeah yeah, where are you at so I can make sure you don’t die early?” and you also did love him, so of course you’d give in to his requests.

“our usual spot of course,” ah yes, the campus quad, under the tree you both agreed looked like a bizarre version of the pokémon mew. “withering away… can’t hold out much longer…”

“you’re so dramatic, I’ll be there in a bit,” you smile to yourself once more.

“bring… snacks…” and then you roll your eyes at yet again another request.

“we’ll see. bye.”

-

finally managing to make it to the quad after about five minutes (which according to kyungmin time was an eternity), you finally spot your friend at the very spot he stated he was. he sat crisscrossed with his chin rested on one of his hands, textbooks sprawled on the grass. you speed walk towards him, careful not to make too much noise.

“hi, kyungmin,” you greet him, snaking your arms around his shoulders to hug him from behind. you feel a small jolt from his long frame, before he instantly relaxes upon realizing it’s you.

“y/n, what a relief,” he sighs while leaning his back into you, soon shifting to turn around and wrap his arms around your torso.

“I see you’re that excited to see me,” you say, taken aback by his embrace but still having your arms around him nonetheless.

“thrilled actually,” his voice is muffled as he speaks into your chest. “so if you don’t mind, I’m gonna stay like this for a bit.”

“if you insist,” you respond, and for a bit he does because it’s probably a solid minute before kyungmin finally lets you go.

“okay, okay. I’ve recovered,” he plants a small smile, eyes half open due to his drowsiness.

“so I’m the antidote to your studying sickness?” you tease as you always do.

“I thought that was obvious,” he says with a pout, enlarging his eyes.

“you’re ridiculous,” you laugh, because truly he is.

“ridiculous this, ridiculous that,”he rolls his eyes. “what’s really ridiculous is this godforsaken deadline.”

“okay, poor sap,” you smack a hand into his shoulder, then sliding yourself to sit opposite of kyungmin and his mess of textbooks. “just show me what you’re dealing with and I’ll try my hardest.”

“my hero!”

-

“I see you’re in your zone, kyungmin,” you’ve been observing your friend for the last few minutes as he’s been scribbling left and right, never looking up.

“huh?” he darts up to you the minute he hears your voice, the first he’s heard of it since a while. “oh, guess so.”

“question,” you probe him.

“hm?” he asks, tilting his head the slightest bit.

“have you ever considered cutting your hair?” you tread cautiously, because you don’t actually know what thoughts your friend has for his hair.

“hmmmm…” he looks away in thought, deeply considering your question.

“not that you need to!” you backtrack instantly, afraid you’d give him the wrong idea. “I like the length, but does it ever bother you like, especially because it’s warmer out now?”

“hm, a little I guess,” he admits, tugging at the ends of his shoulder length hair. “and I try to tie it up every now and then, but to be honest…”

“what?” you’re intrigued by his next words, him dragging them out.

“I don’t really…” he still hesitates, before he’s finally admitting it. “know how to use a hair tie.”

“you grew your hair and you don’t know how to work a teeny elastic…” you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“I don’t need you shaming me!” he’s locks down into defense mode quickly.

“alright, alright,” you backpedal, deciding not to tease him today. “but at least let me help you.”

“yay,” he says straight faced. perhaps admitting he’s bad at something aside from his econ class brings him shame.

“give me the hair tie,” you demand, hand outstretched doing grabby motions.

“it’s on my arm,” he says, extending his right arm out to you. somehow, you didn’t even notice he had something attached to it.

“okay. one day I’ll probably use hyunwoo or yejun’s head as an example to actually show you how to use it, but for now I’ll just do it for you,” you say, dragging your friends into it as you remove the tie from his arm.

“y/n… you’re my lifesaver. what would I do without you?” he says with a pouty expression, you swear you see his eyes start to glaze over.

“I thought we’d already established you’d be dead,” you reply, dragging yourself to be positioned directly behind him.

“we did, didn’t we?” he nods.

“dork,” you can’t help but chuckle a little. but back to the task at hand. “do you want it in like, a low pony or half up?”

“I think half up is fine,” he answers surely.

“your wish is my command,” you rub your hands together, as if you’re a mosquito.

“okay, genie,” now he’s the one laughing.

you start grabbing pieces of kyungmin’s hair, smoothing out the top and making sure you’ve grabbed enough before you finally tie it all together with the band.

“alright done, now let’s see…” you shift back to where you were before right in front of him now, examining your hard work.

“is it fine?” he asks, eager to see the result of your hard work.

“ah, hold still,” you grab the right side of his face, tilting it so it’s angled more downwards. “I grabbed too much of your bangs…”

“oh,” kyungmin’s breathing stops as you pull away at his bangs, grabbing the few you accidentally tied up.

“okay!” you let go of his face and examine your work once more. “perfect as always, suh kyungmin.”

“ah… thank you,” he says, feeling the tiny pony tail you tied up. he attempts to hide the blush he didn’t even realize was growing on his face.

“of course!” you examine him fully, looking at every detail of his hair and face. but clearly more his features, and not the obvious cherry he turned into. “it suits you too, your bangs frame your face so nicely but you can hardly tell when your hair’s just down.”

“maybe I really do need to learn how to use a hair tie then,” he says in a chuckle, looking away from you now.

“you definitely do,” you laugh back.

“now uh…” he starts, but it seems he’s hesitating as he looks back up to you. “before we continue my suffering I mean studying, I have a question.”

“shoot,” you respond eagerly.

“…did you bring the snacks?”

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

Gremlin update May 24th 2024

4:00 am

Slept 10 ish till a little past 2 this time.

I'm thinking it has been long enough since the whole "well now when I take magnesium my heart suddenly starts to feel bad and weak" problem, which was long enough after the "If I don't take 500 mg of magnesium with any meal containing -any- amount of calcium [more than half an apples worth] I get crushing chest pain and my heat skips beats" problem... That I think I can start taking small amounts of magnesium here and there again, which has been shown to reduce anxiety and help with sleep. Personally I have to be careful because it can lower your blood pressure, but also I have been having some muscle tension problems and it would help with that.

I think where the sleep experiment is going to leave off will be being integrated with this journals eventually because there won't be anything more elaborate to say than "10-2 ish and I will bite anyone I have to speak to." But it is still my hope that as i manage my thyroid and other health problems I might scrape a bit of extra sleep out of the day but still get to maintain some of the feeling alert that is causing the current insomnia.

The internet has been having me feel some kind of way lately, specifically trying to socialize on the internet, and I am both not sure I should be super open about it, but also not sure it would be responsible not to bring it up, since I think it's something we all maybe have some experience with. It has certainly been impacting me on a personal level and more than I thought it would. I wasn't prepared for it to leave me feeling like everything is so bleak, and I think it is worth discussing, but since this account is my main social contact with pretty much everyone I know, I don't want the potential for drama. I'm not sure being vague will be being vague enough.

Also one of my friends recently got hacked, they completely dropped off and I was really worried something happened to them and I had no idea what to do about it, and that was very stressful, but they're back now.

And as usual skip to the next ~*~ if you don't want to read this next part about an ex of mine...

Also having thoughts and feelings about my first "marriage" [we would have been considered common-law]... All this time I had kind of been stuck on how I was framing it in my mind, and not really reprocessing any of it at all, stuck on how I was framing him in my mind... And -even though I knew I did the right thing by leaving- I kept wondering if I could have been kinder in various ways or put in more effort to be emotionally attentive, or wondering if maybe I said something too harsh due to some misunderstanding or, or just whatever the fuck... But no. Even just talking/posting about that relationship in the framing of just the -sleep- problems I was having at the time and the way he basically -very sweetly and politely- tried to pretend I didn't exist in my own apartment while I was supporting him full time? The impression his family and our friends seem to have been left with about me on his behalf? Even, even and especially the way he quite suddenly completely ghosted me after finding out I had moved in with Fine and GB [who he went to highschool make-up school with]...

And perhaps the most damning; The recurrent infections I kept getting that doctors kept trying to insist would only be expected if I or my partner was sleeping around. See I kept getting bladder infections, severe ones, in a way I didn't before he moved to town to stay with me, and -eventually- yes it devolved into having a weird delayed but excessive reaction to any and all bacteria+, such that I can't share a toilet with anyone anymore without getting constant yeast infections... But it started off as repeated infection with something the doctors at the clinic thought was suspicious to have be recurrent like that, and they kept suspecting chlamydia Or gonorrhea because -for those of you who don't know- those are the bacteria that are normally behind aggressive bladder infections, they kept testing me for that specific immune response and coming up empty, but I don't have normal immune responses to a bunch of bacteria -at least by now- so I am prone to false negatives from blood-work, but they kept putting me on antibiotics, increasingly aggressive courses of antibiotics [some of which I was allergic to], and still I kept being re-infected, sometimes immediately enough they just weren't sure if the bacteria was resistant, but sometimes it would be a number of months in between. It became really obvious that the pattern was when I had sex with my partner it would start again. At first I suspected it was all the latex allergy and we switched condoms, but that didn't solve it. So I went over washing properly with my 'husband' and had him put on the same course of antibiotics as me a few times [I mean when he had health problems i had to make him go to a doctor about it every time], and STILL the infection kept coming back any time we had sex...

Something I learned about Fine years later when I lived with her was her proud admission she never gets tested for STIs and never bothers using protection no matter who she's sleeping with, or getting her partners tested because "he seems 'clean' :)" and "Well I am pretty sure I'm infertile anyway because I never get pregnant :)" .... Like bitch, most cases of chlamydia are asymptomatic except that in women it eventually causes you to be infertile. And like, yeah, as a good friend I gently pointed this out to her and urged her to get tested, and yeah, she ignored me and got really offended...

But my husband constantly picking up yeast infection and even potentially chlamydia from her way back then would have explained the repeated re-infection with something that kept spreading to my bladder and causing kidney symptoms, and only stopped when I stopped fucking him ever, despite that we had both been repeatedly on aggressive courses of antibiotics [or were supposed to be, it's possible that in most instances he never bothered going to the clinic properly or taking his full course I can't say I was home and cogent enough that I could tell you for sure.] Like yes, He could have also picked up enough of those bacteria from using public toilets to transfer them to me and infect me because of my lowered/delayed immunity, I get yeast infections any time I try to share a toilet now [hence me having to ask partners not to use public toilets if they want to fuck me], after so many bladder infections it caused nerve damage, and they can become bladder infections if left untreated, but all the ones I get now -now that I never fuck anyone-can be treated with diet and maybe a bit of cream at home [and I haven't had one since having my own apartment], and the ones I kept getting from him were in my bladder instantly and super aggressive with horrible torturous burning, the likes of which I haven't experienced since. Like 'sit in a tub of warm water and cry all day in pain that nothing can help with' kind of torture. And then being expected to work all day on no sleep at a call center where they won't let you take breaks to pee, for 10 hours, only to come home to no chores having been done and to have to cook dinner...

Looking back, taking into consideration the way he's still ghosting me -as of 5ish years ago- even when I send him a message saying that I have something I need to ask him about that's important, the way he immediately stopped responding to anything the moment I said I had a question about GB or Fine because I had reconnected with them... With all the power of hindsight from over 10 years later:

a) I am pretty fucking certain it is a *strong possibility* he was cheating on me with Fine and prioritized not facing me about it over my safety, both back then and when he ghosted me instead of answering mys questions about these people I had just moved in with or was going to move in with and who were trying to get close to me, and if that's the case it would turn everything I though I knew on it's head. It would also explain Fine's behaviour towards me entirely.

b) That would also mean everyone -including Tictacs- has willfully lied to me about it and hide it to varying degrees since, even while claiming to be my friends and trying to get close to me [which frankly tracks with the rest of their behaviour]. She's been friends with Fine and GB since childhood, I highly fucking doubt she never met Bunny or had Fine tell her anything.

c) It would mean that they all also willfully lied to me about anything they'd heard about me through him before I -by pure chance- became part of their social circle

d) And that him taking advantage of me was WAY more conscious and intentional that I had been giving him credit for and the ONLY reason I didn't see it sooner was because I too was taken in by him being so generally sweet and shy.

Like I know my memory can be a bit shit but I also know I probably have receipts saved somewhere, because I have a vague recollection of this having come up before, and when people say sus things to me I tend to screencap and save them. At some point I will figure out who was willfully lying to me to what extent. I'm going to start comparing their stories, and anyway I call bullshit on the entire situation and all four of them. And I am done wondering if -I- somehow could have held their hands a little more, either way, because I shouldn't have to handhold my peers constantly to keep them from being negligent, toxic or abusive.

And at the time and for years after I had never really considered it a possibility. He just didn't seem like the type to cheat, and even less so like the type to cheat and then lie about it, and I have always resisted jumping to that conclusion because anyone I know who has is usually so deeply insecure they suspect it of everyone all the time and it makes them kind of a toxic or outright abusive nightmare, or they themselves are prone to cheating and do it often, and that's why they are so eager to believe their partner is doing it too. I just never wanted to start being someone who immediately suspects cheating and gets weird about it the moment the relationship isn't perfect. And besides that, it's one of those things I acknowledge -abstractly- that people do, but it isn't something that occurs to me regularly as a possibility, or something to actually do, you know? And then I find out my partner was cheating on ME and they use the justification "Well you cheated first >:(" when like... WHEN? Bruh I haven't left your house, -I know- I haven't, but how do you even suspect I could have had the opportunity? Like HOW? My bedroom is next to yours and I am pretty sure you'd notice me fucking someone in your basement or living area??? I don't go out?? If you thought I was cheating why was your solution to risk my life by cheating on me in secret instead of just breaking up with me or even asking me about it????. Fucking bullshit excuse that is, just to try to save face or try to play the victim because they fucking know I'm Poly and that if I wanted to sleep with someone else I'd just ask and ask if they want to join??? I call bullshit on that entire grift because no reasonable person with functioning senses would see that as thing I was like -logistically- capable of pulling off, but anyway...

If ANYTHING explains him having been so shut down and despondent, in a way that always read to me as 'guilty', this would be it. I had always written it off as him just being used to abusive parents and feeling like there was something wrong with himself as a kind of resting state, and I always tried to be gentle about it, but I guess this would also explain why that never helped. Why maybe the more compassionate and helpful I was the worse he felt?

And especially the way he's shut down during conversations about sexual health or rape culture and informed consent, or even about sexuality or questions about his or mine, or how some viruses are really dangerous to me and how I was slowly discovering more deeply concerning signs that they could be outright fatal to someone with my genetic disposition.

I am pretty fucking certain GB lied to me about how and when he had met me before. It was the weirdest most innocuous statement that did it too. Both times he had mentioned always having wanted to cut his hair short and dye it sky blue, but how that would read too 'anime' to commit to in public, and how he had/would maybe dye his hair black for a while... Those are the kinds of details I remember about people even when their face and name escapes me. He also lied when I asked him about his sexual health history and I asked him if he had shared mouth germs, like eating off the same plate, etc... with anyone within the past 3 months before I shelled out money for us to get the blood test for herpes 1&2 in addition to the other testing [because if I get cold sores it could kill me, due to an inadequate immune response to herpes family viruses] He insisted up and down that was something he didn't do, and hadn't done. But the MOMENT Fine came back from the states and started hanging out with us, she started talking about times when they had shared cakes at restaurants and shit before she left, which apparently was less than 3 months before I got there. I told him my life was on the line if we missed something and he lied to me about that and about the callouses on his hands potentially being HPV [warts he kept chewing on until they just looked like callouses from chewing]. And TBH the MOMENT I realized that I should have dropped all their asses and avoided them like the plague, but I was really stressed out at the time and had a memory lapse about it, and by the time I remembered again it was too late.

These are all things where like, an outside perspective from an offline bestie sharing about my life on a regular basis would have been helpful, because when I started to get stressed and have memory lapses about it, they could remind me of this shit before i went and trusted those fuckers with anything. They could have told me it seemed like my "husband" was cheating on me, and we would have had enough rapport that I could have taken someone seriously about that.

Honestly, if any one of these people who were my partners or friends had acted like they actually cared whether I lived or died, I wouldn't be in any of these messes. But what they prioritized over my safety every time was avoiding anything socially awkward and getting their dicks wet.

Whatever.

It's just infuriating because I thin... I thought- of that relationship as like my one lasting adult relationship where my partner wasn't raping me [violations of informed consent]... But like, again, informed consent is INFORMED, and lying to me about sexual health or sleeping around then not telling me and then fucking me anyway... That's all a complete violation of informed consent. Anyway all these fuckers owe me years of life and thousands of dollars, and also fuck them.

I wish I could know for sure but up until I deleted my public facebook, he wouldn't respond to me.

And that also has me feeling some kind of way.

I keep conducting myself as earnestly as I can and approaching relationships in good faith, with family, friends and partners, and they are all intent on manipulating, lying to me, abusing me, trying to guilt-trip and emotionally manipulate me, refuse to let me hav boundaries, to the point where my patience just isn't enough. And it isn't like me "being distrustful" is somehow an excuse because I never was. While I was IN those relationships I trusted them and kept accidentally repressing the memory of anything that would hint to me that I shouldn't, otherwise I would have broken it off and left sooner. The moment the balance tipped and I started remembering all the bullshit they had done, I broke up with them, in every instance. I don't play these petty fuckign games, if I want something other than the relationship, I just break it off. I am very simple that way.

And I would just really appreciate closure about it all so I can correctly modulate how I am reading people to be more accurate and help protect myself from being taken advantage of the same way again, because I'm autistic and that's a struggle for me, but no one involved will even do me that basic fucking human decency, IG.

I'm a little concerned that this is what has had Bean fishing in the memory soup for something and I am afraid of what comes out.

~*~

Anyway I have been watching through x-files. Slowly. The... This show is the kind of old show that spawned our current over adjustment in media where everything is now hard hitting plot being fired at you a mile per minute... There's so much filler in the x-files sometimes you aren't even sure the big plots are still even happening or if the show runners have decided to drop it. Watching it with a bunch of really modern shows is so weird. Like there was a good middle ground at some point and the x-files aren't it any more than the mew x-men series is, but in opposite directions. Like old TV really used to go for slow -drawn out- drama and the x-files really are it.

Before my last sleep, during my last half day, whatever, while feeling some kind of way about social things and whatnot, I did some aggro cleaning and organizing. I highly recommend this, using irritation and lack of satisfaction with anything you could possibly be doing to just go clean or organize something you have been putting off. You're going to feel miserable at the moment no matter what you are doing, but at least when you are done you have done/made something nice for yourself instead of just stewing... So now the clutter that had built up on my bathroom desk and sink have been tidied up.

Slowly I am moving things around closer and closer to their final-ish resting positions and tidying up around that. This year for sure, but I keep wanting to get some swell of high energy to get it all done now. This probably isn't going to happen and wouldn't be sustainable or advisable, physically, but like... Want.

I just want a 100% stress-free environment for like the first time in my adult life like holy fuck...

~*~

May 26th

9:20 pm

It's my bedtime soon. Still having a problem with how long it takes me to get running in the morning, and that not leaving ANY time left to be productive on a split sleep schedule.

Like it's 9:20 and I still haven't eaten. I pushed myself this half-day and sewed my pj pants shut again, moved the thread rack 2 inches up the wall, cleaned out 3 little bags I had in storage, and fucked around with a couple details, did some laundry and dishes on the morning shift or today... But like... I did not get through any more totes and if I want to get prepared to go across town for my health card i have to do it when I wake up.

~*~

May 27th

7:50 pm

I slept late, Idk, I slept at some point for some length, I'm tired, but mostly the point is I didn't make it out to renew my health card, but I HAVE now booked an appointment for tomorrow morning. T~T

I should have enough ID even though technically as a disabled person I legally can't acquire what they are asking for the moment both my health card and photo id expire at the same time... Which they always do, in part because I can't get a credit card.

Either way I deal with that tomorrow at about 9am...

Until then I am trying to do things like make myself eat and make myself keep re-organizing bins and stuff.

Emotionally I just want to start screaming and never stop.

~*~

May 31st

3:00 pm

EUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-okay, I went out and got my health card renewed. They didn't raise a fuss about what technically counts as proof of identity and both my IDs being expired.

Now I can contact doctor's offices again when I am ready. It's going to be a bitch of a thing that I start on Monday... T~T

I also destroyed my ankle and my hip joints a little and picked up cat treats from the dollar store, the freeze dried organ meats i sprinkle on his food to get him to actually eat it all. I even found they have a bag of pre-ground beef liver, being sold as meal topper, that's just beef liver, that you get almost 2X the weight in for the same price. The package quite hilariously and pretentiously goes on about the science behind their product when like... It's beef liver. It works because it's pure beef liver. You used a very established technology to dry it. Babes... There is no need for pretense here, I am buying a bag of liver dust... On purpose.

Today I also tried checking my email for the CHOB renewal, entirely convinced it wouldn't be there and I'd have to call, but it was there, and I filled it out and submitted it. Now so long as it goes through I should be good.

I got my bills paid, my rent, my garbage and recycling out etc... Because payday, bills day and garbage and recycling all fell on the same day, so I get to feel like I have been super productive by doing basic maintenance and I am taking the win.

I just need to order alcohol still because I don't currently have a mouthwash substitute at all, let alone one better than whisky.

So, so I made one last ditch effort to get some answers and maybe recover my passport, yeah? Because Bunny's dad had it last and I am sick of having valid ID constantly being more than a struggle than it -has- to be, and I don't want to renew it, and bitch I want answers, really, and I messaged my ex husband on facebook from a secret account I used for local necessity, because it was like, the only one I have.

So I didn't expect him to answer, but he did on account of me saying it was important and that we shared a few 'friends'.

So we actually had a conversation... Were the dreams I had about talking to him predictive? Or a self fulfilling prophesy? Whomst the fuck knows!

And he's going to actually look around for my passport instead of just asking his dad to remember past multiple brain injuries.

And he let me ask him questions about what the fuck was going on with him back then. And -for the most part- I have to assume he doesn't have a reason to lie to me. And *most* of me believes him, so there's something adjacent to closure here. If I can believe him when I fully process it all.

He doesn't remember if GB was the guy at timmies, so I don't know if he could have saved me any trouble by responding to me, because they broke off contact around a year after he moved away, and that part was true enough. I mean, I think GB still had all his info, and I didn't and he still could have reached out to him on my behalf and chose not to, but that's on GB, that's his dishonesty.

He mostly hung out with them strictly at school and not outside of it, so that's something I wasn't home from work enough to get an impression of, but it makes more sense of the idea of him never having interacted with Tictacs.

He says him and Fine were just school friends and he never cheated on me with anyone. Even with all the bullshit men have pulled I don't think he would lie to me directly like that. If her behaviour towards me has to do with him, it's probably one-sided on her part.

We then proceeded to have the most frustrating exchange possible over what the fuck was up with him at the time, because he just shut down on me and stopped acting like he even wanted to interact with me as a person at all at some point and lost all interest in sex... And when asked about it he tells me it's because he got the firm impression I was asking him to seek intimacy from me explicitly so I could reject him???? And the only explanation he could give me for what gave him that idea was to confirm what I already suspected and say he internalizes everything, is used to abuse and then say horrible stuff about himself and site outside factors that were knocking him off balance... He did not give me one bit of feedback about my own behaviour or anything I said that had anything to do with why he thought he suddenly couldn't come to me about anything or why he thought I didn't want him.

And yeah, he says that it was mostly his fault, and that him letting everyone act like I should be working full time and doing all the cooking and cleaning while he doesn't do anything, while not speaking up about it, leaving me to try to defend myself with no word of defense from him was not a cool thing to do to me...

But like... We got together in the first place in part because we both understood what it was like to have parents who treated us as being wrong for existing and as deserving punishments for having basic needs. That was explicitly why I told him he could come live with me and worry about finding a job or finishing school once he was with me and out of that place. And I spent every moment with him trying to gently pry and gently get him to talk to me and unpack whatever was bothering him. And he responded by suddenly acting like I was some kind of threat he couldn't speak to or be honest with.

And it's like... yeah I GET IT because, listen I was in the same position and have been ever since. Everyone I have ever known with very few exceptions has been horrible to me, to the point I should expect everyone to default to being horrible to me and annoyed at me for having to exist, even in my own living space. I was actually diagnosed with depression and anxiety and under treatment... But what I didn't do was treat him like he was part of a pattern instead of an individual person.

And that wasn't the rapport we had established! We were friend since I was still in school, and we had been having a long distance relationship ever since, where we would talk on the phone every night, and every 6 months he'd come to me and I'd get to see him again [and I used to jokingly called him Persephone because of that...]. But then the moment he moved in he just slid into treating me like the enemy, but then still being 'willing' to have sex...

And what I was trying to get him to understand was that I wanted him to interact with me like a person again instead of just using sex as a substitute to keep me happy. And for a long time he acted super reluctant about sex even though he kept saying he was enthusiastic about it, he blamed asthma, he blamed allergies, he blamed 'stuff' but he never actually opened up about what the issue was. I has the distinct impression that since moving in with me his attraction to me had just died a terrible death... And when I finally asked to step back from sex, I had the firm impression he might be asexual and just putting himself up to it to try to keep me happy. Even at the rate I will naturally seek sex from someone in a relationship [variable depending on the level of other engagement], I cannot tell you how much it kills the mood beyond even that when the person doesn't actually -act- enthusiastic about sex, and otherwise just acts like they want to tune me out all the time. I was -without the modern language for it- trying to get him to understand that I was probably also asexual and that what I really wanted was for him to just talk to me again and interact with me like a person, instead of acting like he expected me to abuse him the way his uncle and grandmother did.

And I tried every tactic I could, every appeal, both trying to get him to open up to me about problems and trying to figure out what the sexual disconnect was. I tried suggesting role play, I tried prying about what he was attracted to. I made a maid's outfit for fucks sake and subjected myself to that to see if it -did- anything... I tried being more dominant, gritting my teeth and tried acting submissive, I tried nibbling on him more, I tried suggesting different kinds of sex, trying to figure out what characters he was into, what was making him feel inadequate or whatever the problem was... He was a clam. [I mean he's supposed to be a bunny because his hair turns darker brown in spring and summer and lighter in the winter, but he was a total shellfish about it all.]

And even when I tried to talk to him about him not pitching in around the house they were very gentle and delicate appeals! I tried everything to make it rewarding for him too. Including making it kinky, including -the most effective tactic- making him apple pies every time I had a clean kitchen to do it in. My drill sergeant mode was absent, dialed to 0. I was on eggshells about potentially making him feel bad about himself but still desperately needing him to pull his weight.

And so when I ask him what I did that made me someone he couldn't go to anymore, or couldn't be open with, or acted like he didn't want... He sites a list of things other people did to him and how it made him feel about himself.

And, yeah, that tracks... But it's fucking infuriating... It's so fucking in your head with low self esteem to such a divorced from reality extreme that is sounds fucking -fake- to me now. and I know that's distrust created by -probably- only other people causing that impression, so I am inclined to believe the problem was really actually his own crippling lack of self-esteem... But like???

The only way this actually makes sense * to every part of my psyche* is if I buy into the idea that he equated sexual intimacy directly with love and personal intimacy with no line between the two, so seeking one and struggling with the other came off to him as setting him up for rejection... Which is the opposite of the impression I got from him. I distinctly have the impression we outright had conversations about how "normal people" equating those two things together was alienating to both of us. If pressed ai would have labelled him as demi the way I am then and now and would armchair diagnose him as also autistic. But that's the only way that "You'd made it clear that you didn't have any interest in being intimate with me (and I get why, I had many unresolved issues and was not pulling my weight), but still wanted me to pursue intimacy with the understanding the answer would be no, felt like a big Catch 22." direct quote, makes ANY fucking sense to me.

Maybe in the end he IS allosexual alloromantic and straight after all and did like me, and the only reason why he created the exact opposite impression was because he hated himself so fucking much he couldn't see over it. Maybe the dysphoria -for lack of a better term- of trying to have a relationship/sex as himself was just too much.

Everything else he had to say was an acknowledgement that I wasn't the problem and he was just too deep in his own head and negative self worth. Which yeah, actually feels a lot like closure on what the fuck was up because that aligns with what I suspected of the situation... But I had to just assume it and try to move on because until now he was a fucking clam... Or as he put it "I'm just seen as this horrible slug person"... Which *sigh* listen, this word is a fucking *choice*, and an ironic one, because a) he left himself open to the possibility of making the world's most hilariously bad typo given the context, and he should have more sense than that [I had him tested, his IQ, knowing it would be close to mine or higher and thinking that would help him, beyond jokes about numbers on paper I know he's clever], b) he knows I think slugs are cute, and c) he was actively jealous of one particular "slug man" -i remember this distinctly- who he knows I am attracted to, specifically, when he wasn't jealous of me liking any other fictional character for any period of time while we were together, not even the ones I actually felt qualified to make art or writing about, he just saw the affection I had for exactly one slug man and that was the fictional character that made him feel inadequate, much to my ongoing confusion... *deep breath* baby boy... The fuck? [part of me finds this word choice out of character and a little on the nose (and thus sus), but is this just a new thing people say now? We all remember the slug/slut typo post, yeah?]

Which... yeah, is just more "I couldn't go to you or engage with you as a person anymore because I had become convinced you were suddenly going to act like my abusers for no real reason I can articulate"...

And like, we had the conversation? We had the "baby boy is it just that you don't feel like sex anymore and you are afraid I'll be mad, we don't have to have sex if you don't like it" conversation!! Like I-

???? Self-loathing is a reality warping drug, and that's really the only closure I could have from this, IG???

I just... Everything else asides I am BAFFLED how "please spend time with me as a person and please tell me what would make you enjoy sex with me more" gets interpreted as "seek intimacy so I can reject you"... T~T ... i- I fucking MADE a maid's outfit, for myself, to wear, me, the "I was trying to look like a man before I knew I was trying to look like a man" and "I have to bargain with myself about skirts and makeup and act allergic to pink or anything feminizing" and "I won't wear a cat collar for fashion reasons because occasionally people think I am a sub because of it".. I- *stares into eternity* I tried...

The only thing that makes sense is that the moment he came to live under my roof he switched to mentally categorizing me as an authority figure instead of as his partner against the world... And just believed it so hard and so unconsciously nothing could ever unpack that.

So he acted like he couldn't stand me and was so paralyzed by insecurity he still needed me to take care of him and support him full time, because of how other people had treated him, and that's the closest I get to an answer.

And that's just that, I guess.

A large part of me speaking from well over 10 more year's experience insists that him cheating on me, and then just maintaining the charade catering to my expectations and sympathies [people have really fucked around on me okay?] makes way more rational sense than this... But self loathing isn't rational and I know that. If I can believe I ever had any accurate sense of his personality at all... I can believe this is him telling the truth. The insanely frustrating fucking truth.

If it was remotely appropriate or in context I would love him to give me a retrospective on why Piccolo dbz make him feel insecure when no other fictional men or women did [I was so confused by it at the time, he got really weird about it, when like I did way more art of Raziel and even Kisame? because hormones or smth happened to me on occasion]. But asking him that now feels mean and I don't think he'd have an answer anyway.

I'd also ask him questions to determine if he even ever noticed I had multiple personalities, but i also don't think that would be constructive, or get me anywhere, and might just make him feel bad for not paying attention to me.

Also, I either forgot just how often he refers to himself in third person or something during the pandemic broke him too. idk.

But like why it's so frustrating is it means the only reason why i didn't successfully save him from his family and build an amazing life for both of us, with him as my enthusiastic partner, in a blessedly cheap little apartment until I could buy us a house... Was because he was taking his trauma and self hatred out on me for reasons he can't even define. Like the fuck do you mean all that was that you felt unlovable? WE COULD HAVE HAD THE WORLD!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Gods I hope he's in therapy.

T~T

And like you would think that the potential that everyone else not having lied to me about these things in particular would feel like some kind of answers or closure, but their behaviour otherwise makes this less impactful than you would assume. I mean I have to be relieved I'm probably not as bad at reading people as I was starting to fear???

I mean I feel a little better in general now? But also??????????????????

~*~

... So now I just wait to see if he can find my bloody passport, I guess.

... And I should order alcohol soon. Tomorrow maybe? Is it too late now?

Then this list:

Glue the one drawer from the dresser that pulled apart [because 1-2 drawers were never glued by me to begin with because they *seemed* to be holding in one piece too well]

Glue spice rack back together

Get the last 3-5 totes reorganized so I can get the last disorganized looking pile of stuff tidied up and out of the way

Get the things I am giving away gone and out of the apartment

make ramp [for spring, haha, late]

renew health card

renew chob

make apt about wrist lump

make ultrasound appointment for IUD now that I have my health card

Get back to the women's college hospital

[oc-aita]

aita for criticizing my friend and accidentally triggering a nervous breakdown?

so for context, i (16NB) am non-human. i was captured and placed in a non-human containment facility around a year ago. we're free to wander around and stuff (until curfew) but there's a lot of guards here who do not really like this.

i have a roommate (14M) who is also my friend, and ever since he arrived, he's been having a rough time. he had a tendency to rebel early on and very quickly got on the bad side of the guards, and they tend to give him harsh punishments, ranging from mild beatings to full-on torture. after a while, he stopped trying to rebel but the guards didn't stop hurting him, so he's been trying to lay low. mentally, he's been doing a lot worse, but he had me and some other friends to support him

recently, another kid (16M) pulled a prank on a guard and framed my roommate, which led to my roommate being violently punished in front of all of us until one of the medics interfered. i guess this whole thing caused my roommate to lose it, because about halfway through his recovery he managed to find security footage proving that the other kid pulled the prank and snitched to the guards. the guards then punished the other kid and told everyone that it was thanks to my roommate that the truth was revealed

everyone was really mad at my roommate for doing that, including me. i understand that he didn't deserve to be punished for something he didn't do but to throw someone else under the bus wasn't cool either. when my roommate was discharged, he asked me if i thought he did the right thing, so i told him the truth: that i thought it was a jackass thing to do and that it showed that he cared more about how he's perceived rather than the well-being of others, and even thought the other kid was a jerk it didn't mean he had to be tortured for it.

ever since then, my roommate has been super depressed. he won't talk to our friends and he'll hardly talk to me. he mostly just lays in bed now, but i can tell that he hasn't eaten much and that he's having trouble sleeping. the few times he's left the room, people have glared at him and said some shitty things to him, which, while it's kinda deserved, it hasn't made his mental state any better, so now he resorts to never leaving. i'm worried that it's going to get worse because i know that his shitty mental health can cause him to go to extremes, but he won't visit the medics and we don't have a psychiatrist or counselor on site to talk to him.

i knew he would probably be down from the whole ordeal, but i didn't realize that it would get this bad. i think that it might have been my critique, because i know he looks up to me a lot, but i thought he would've handled it a lot better. i didn't realize he was this emotionally unstable. aita for criticizing him?

[frootyrooties]

chances

CH 3: TIT-FOR-TAT

plot: American photographer Leah Walker is ecstatic when she’s presented with the opportunity to spend the summer of 1975 in Stockport, UK to take photographs of local English groups. Given her history of taking photos of big acts such as The Rolling Stones and The Doors, she is taken by surprise when told that her first clients will be the up and coming Manchester-based group, 10cc, who have kept a low-profile until recently, after gaining worldwide stardom from their hit I’m Not In Love. Leah knows little about the group and gets acquainted fairly quickly, but what she doesn’t know is how much trouble she’s about to get herself into with the group’s beloved lead guitarist, Eric Stewart. She has all summer, come to think of it. The possibilities are endless.

themes: moody eric, eric’s love for food :3, feisty leah, venting, consoling, first mention of eric’s divorce, first date!, whole lotta fluff

a/n: After spending one month in Europe, I finally found inspiration to write this chapter. I had the pleasure of visiting Mr. Stewart’s pride and joy, Strawberry Recording Studios. I was over the moon! I am still in disbelief that I went. But enough about that, everything I’ve written so far is almost historically accurate based on interviewing a few individuals who know the boys personally (so grateful for that opportunity). Spending a few weeks in England, including one week in Stockport where this lovely tale takes place really brought on some much needed inspiration into writing this chapter. I’ve also been cooped up in my feelings lately so I really poured my heart out into this one. Cheers!

“You know I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left the studio that night.”

It is morning. The past couple days have been such a whirlwind, I haven’t got a clue what time or day it is. The telephone on the nightstand rings unmercifully loud, waking me from my deep slumber. My eyes feel heavy, and I can only manage to open them halfway as I struggle to sit up to answer this call. I turn to my side and lean on my elbow as my other hand reaches for the phone. I bring the device up to my ear.

“H-hello?” my voice is soft, with undertones of confusion and anxiety as I await to identify the caller.

“Hi. It’s Eric.” the man on the other line is curt. I sense tension in his voice.

Understandably, given the amount of people I’ve encountered these past couple days, I struggle to remember who this “Eric” is.

“Eric? Oh dear..I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong num—“

“I am speaking to Miss Leah Walker, yeah?” The man interjects, his tone now growing slightly irritable. It suddenly hits me like a freight train. A wave of embarrassment crashes into me the moment I realize who it is. It’s Eric Stewart of 10cc.

“Oh, Eric! Hello..I..Christ, I am so sorry I didn’t recog—“

“That’s alright, no need to explain yourself.” He says this matter-of-factly. He sounds aggravated. But, what about?

I sit dumbfounded in silence and wait for him to supplement his response.

“Right. Anyway, I’m calling because a young man hand delivered your pictures to me last night just before I left the studio and I thought I’d give you a call this morning to talk about some thoughts I have about them.” Oh dear..am I in trouble?

He now has my full attention and I am properly awake. I finally manage to sit up against my pillow, clutching onto the phone. I twirl the cord around my finger to ease my anxiety as I mentally develop a response.

“Of course, absolutely..I’m all ears.”

“Hmph. Well, I thought I’d let you know how atrocious these pictures turned out. There’s too much exposure in most of them, you can hardly see our faces! We look like the bloody ghosts of Christmas past! And for fuck’s sake, do you even know how to get your point of interest in frame?! I’ve done photography for years, and it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out how to get your focal point in center view. You know, for someone who claims to be a seasoned photographer, you’ve made some very amateur mistakes here. Perhaps, it would behoove you to take a refresher course.”

I can feel my blood boiling. I don’t think I have ever met anyone so irreverent, so condescending, so..unnerving.     

You little arrogant son-of-a-bitch! Just who the hell do you think you are, talking down on me like I’m an imbecile?!

At this point, my temper has reached its peak and I decide to give him a piece of my mind. I struggle to maintain composure.

“Eric. Mr. Stewart. Perhaps it would behoove you to give those photos another look. My work has not faltered me, and I am confident that I captured your group’s pictures with great finesse. If I am wrong, feel free to reach out to me again and I will rectify my mistakes. Oh, and might I suggest that you be a little less rash towards people who are doing you a favor? Then perhaps people wouldn’t find you so unlikeable.”

I said the word unlikeable through almost gritted my teeth. I slam the phone down with such force, I can feel the nightstand tremble.

I am fuming, absolutely livid. That might’ve been the very first proper insult I have ever received from a client. I suppose I’ve been spoiled with how mild Americans are with their insults compared to these Brits, but I was not expecting this degree of aloofness from anyone I would meet here. And especially not from someone like Eric Stewart.

God, where is a cigarette when I need one? After only recently having smoked one cigarette for the first time in my life, I am already finding myself craving for another. I should bear in mind the addicting properties that cigarettes have. Most people in my family smoke, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise just how easily people get addicted. I feel my anger beginning to subside as I preoccupy myself with this random thought. It is too early in the day to be stressed, to be flustered, to be worked up about a man who otherwise seems..just..so wonderful, so wonderful. I ought to call him, Mr. Wonderful.

I roll my eyes and sneer at this utterly ridiculous deviation in my thoughts. He’s probably got a girlfriend..or worse, a wife even! Stay out of other people’s turf, Leah. You’re here to work with clients, not sleep with them. I give myself a gentle reminder that I shouldn’t meddle with what belongs to other people.

I jerk slightly as I hear the phone blaring once again. Hmph. It must be that bloody arrogant bastard again..I roll my eyes, crossing my arms as I make a presumption about who is calling. I let the phone ring a few more times before answering. You’re going to have to wait for me to pick up, your highness. What an annoying little thing this Eric is.

I finally decide to reward him for his patience.

“Hello, this is Leah Walk—”

“Hi.” A familiar voice interjects.

“Hi..erm..may I ask who is speaking?” Playing possum. A smirk breaks across my face.

“Oi, have you forgotten all about me already?” Eric stifles a laugh at my response.

Oh why do you have to be so gosh darn adorable? Makes it hard to stay mad at you.

“Oh it’s just you..” I speak sarcastically American.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah..it’s me, your favorite person.” Eric says with such overinflated confidence. The nerve. The audacity. After relentlessly insulting me, he hits me with ‘it’s me, your favorite person.’

“How can I help you?” I am curt with him. My tone quickly switches to one that is rather business-like. I am not here to play games with you, Eric.

“Leah, listen..I—” he pauses briefly and I hear him sigh deeply on the other line, “I am sorry to disturb you again but I just wanted to apologize for how irrational I was on the previous phone call.” Oh? It’s impressive how quickly an epiphany can occur to someone.

I listen quietly as I await for him to finish his soliloquy.

“Erm..I know you’ve just met me but..I have just been so desperate for some form of consolation from anyone, and I hope you don’t mind me saying this but..I feel like I can comfortably express my feelings to you without fear of judgement. I feel that I can trust you enough to keep this conversation between us. Have you got a free second? May I vent a little?”

My heart sinks at his willingness to be vulnerable to me. Our working relationship is only in its embryonic stage, but that certainly doesn’t mean that I cannot sympathize with him. I refuse to be cold-hearted. It makes people feel uneasy around you when you’re cold. It makes me feel uneasy at even just the thought of being cold. I devote to giving him my full, undivided attention at this very moment. I sense pain in his voice. I want to know more about you, Eric Stewart.

“Well carry on, I’m listening.” I sound a bit whimsical, I hope I am not coming off aloof.

Just for this moment, I would like to forget about our professional relationship and be a friend to him with open and patient ears..to be a shoulder to cry on.

“Right. Erm..where do I even start?” he lets out a nervous laugh. There are undertones of frustration in his voice. A damsel-in-distress

“Start wherever you feel comfortable, Eric.”

“Right. Okay, thank you..” he sighs deeply then continues his monologue, “I’m just one man, Leah. Yet people that I work with, the same people that use the studio that I’ve put my blood, sweat and tears in feel that it’s alright to toy me around. They expect me to function as if I’m made up of five people. If I could clone multiples of myself, I would. To keep these people happy. They all know very well how hard I work at recording and producing music, and they’ve used that to their advantage. And even after all my efforts and all that I’ve done for them, I’m still not good enough. Not a single ounce of acknowledgement from any of them. Pity, isn’t it?”

I sense bitterness in his voice. I attempt to process all that he’s said to me so far. That angry feeling I had for him has now been lifted. Or perhaps he’s just trying to gain my sympathy so I can forget about how upset he made me this morning. Eric, whatever you’re doing it’s working.

“Are you still listening to me, love? Or am I boring you to death?” he lets out a soft laugh. Am I allowed to swoon a little?

“Yes Eric, continue. Please.”

“Well no, I don’t think you understand how this works. You see, I speak my mind then you’re supposed to validate my feelings.”

“Oh, is that right? So you’ve called me up just to get a free counseling session? You know I oughta charge you extra for this.” Again, sarcastically American.

“You best believe I will pay you however much quid you wa—”

“Eric, you know I’m joking, right?” I chuckle as I interrupt him, “okay, so let me get this straight..it sounds to me that you’re not getting along with your band mates, yeah?”

“Sure seems that way.”

“Right so, I don’t know if I am the right person to be giving you advice on how you can rectify your situation as I am not a licensed psychologist, however do you think it would benefit you and the rest of the group to talk it out?”

“Well you see, that’s what we’re struggle with at the moment. All four us—myself, Graham, Lol and Kev usually have these ‘truth sessions’ throughout the day while working in the studio. These are opportunities for us to take a break from songwriting and recording and talk about our strengths and weaknesses as musicians. What we like and don’t like about our progress on a record, for example. But lately, it seems that these sessions have become less..frequent. I don’t understand it, I mean why the sudden change in routine?”

“I see. Well in that case, have you tried to initiate these sessions?”

“No. I don’t know if I want to. I’m just—”

“Afraid of rejection?

He remains silent for a brief moment then produces a response.

“Yes.”

“Tell you what. From what I observed during our initial encounter, you seem very competent in your musical abilities, Eric. Do you agree?”

“Yes, but—”

“Hm. See? There’s the problem. You’re full of doubt. The word but says to me that you are doubtful about your abilities to create initiative. Not even as the leader of the group, but just as an equal member.”

He is mute on the other line.

“Eric? You see, the way this works is that I give you my two cents, and you give me yours. Tit-for-tat.”

“Tit-for-tat.” He chuckles.

“So..?”

“What are you doing right now? Are you free?” Funny how he changes the subject.

“Well let’s see..it’s 8:30 in the morning and you’re lucky you’ve caught me during my day off so to answer your question, yes I am free. Why do you ask?”

“Erm..I was just thinking..would you mind if we carried on this conversation in person? I’m not really fond of long telephone calls, you see?”

My goodness, bossy AND primadonna.

“It’s gonna cost ya.”

“I’ll pay for breakfast. Please say yes?” He’s ignoring my sarcasm this time. Begging, are we?

“Fine. You’re only getting an hour and a half out of me. Two hours if you’re well behaved.” I smile through my words.

“Hm..I promise to be on my best behavior.” The bastard’s probably smirking right now. Bet you’re proud of yourself. Jerk. He’s lucky he’s cute.  

“I’ll believe it when I see it. I’m about one block away from your studio. 11 Alberta Street. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“I know Alberta Street. Give me 10?”

“Great. See you in 10.”

“Fantastic. See you soon. Goodbye.”

“Bye.” I hang up and I don’t quite know what to do with myself at the moment. I feel happy, giddy even. A date? With Eric Stewart of 10cc? However, I do not consider this a date as I am just helping to console an emotionally distressed client.

For some strange reason, I feel I am doing something wrong agreeing to go out with a client. However, this man seems like he is in peril and is in need of a friend to comfort him.

“Gosh, what do I even wear?” I mutter to myself as I get myself sorted.

It seems as though we will blessed with lovely weather again today so I settle for something more casual and weather appropriate. I dig through my closet to find my yellow sleeveless sundress and scoop it out. I stride over to the mirror and lean the dress against myself, mentally critiquing whether this will be a good fit. I smile as I gander at the mirror, picturing myself with the dress on. This should do.

I slip the dress on and flatten out any wrinkles with my hands. I take another look in the mirror and not meaning to toot my own horn, but this dress looks rather fetching on me. What will he think of it?

I quickly apply some mascara and a little cherry red lipstick for good measure. My hair has maintained its curls from the day before so I decide to leave it be. And just as I am finishing up with the beauty works, the doorbell rings. My heart begins to pound. I snatch my purse then make my way downstairs and open the front door slightly at first to make sure it is who I think it is. I proceed to open the door all the way to ogle at the Adonis that’s standing right before me. I scan him from head to toe—black button down shirt, a navy blue suit jacket, denim bell bottoms and a pair of light brown platforms. He could be doubling as a runway model!

“Hi, Eric.” A teethy grin spreads across my face as I look at him in his eyes.

He examines me from head to toe, his eyes pausing briefly at my bust (eyes up here, pal!), then our eyes collide.

“Hello, Leah.” His voice is soft. It’s so comforting. “You look really lovely.”  

“Why thank you sir, you don’t look too bad yourself.” We both stand in silence for a brief moment, then simultaneously chuckle at our unspoken banter.

“So are we just going to stand here, then? I’m a hungry boy. I need fuel.” He rests his hands on his stomach, indicating his need for food.

“Well show us the way then, sir!” I chirp.

“Aren’t you going lock your door?” he looks at me with a boyish smile.

“Oh, you’re right. Where’s my mind?” It’s all your fault for being so uncanningly attractive. It’s so distracting.

“Would you like me to lock it for you? After all, you’ve done more than enough for me thus far this morning. It’s the least I can do.”

“Erm..if you insist, go right ahead.” I smile as I hand him the house keys.

“Right..er..” he swipes the keys from my hand and somehow correctly selects the key to the front door. He proceeds to close and lock, then hands me back the keys.

“Why thank you, kind sir.” I curtsy in front of him.

“Pleasure is mine, my fair lady.” He bows, then just before he straightens up, he takes my hand and plants a gentle kiss on my knuckles.

“Shall we, love?” He stands erect, smirking at me.

“Please, lead the way.” I gesture to the open road in front of us.

“Yes, madame.” He links his arm with mine and we proceed to stroll towards the alley way leading to the main road.

The smell of his cologne lingers against my nose. It’s gentle to the sensitive nose—a fresh clean linen scent, so it appears. I pat his upper arm gently as we continue to pace.

“So where are we going?” I smile up at him.

“The Red Bull. It’s this pub just around the corner from the studio. Me and the guys usually go there for lunch but I like to go there for breakfast as well on the days I’m working in the studio. Their full english breakfast is to die for!” he says those last words with such enthusiasm.

“So I take it breakfast food is your favorite kind of food?”

“Well I don’t discriminate when it comes to food, love. Breakfast, lunch and dinner food all sound appealing to me. I’ll have you know, I’m a bit of a foodie. Food makes me happy.”

I giggle at his vivacity in discussing food.

“Well then you wouldn’t have any second thoughts about finishing my leftovers? In case I don’t finish my meal this morning?” I raise an eyebrow at him, a girlish smile broadening across my face.  

“Say no more, love!” he widens his gaze at me, leaning his face into me.

I chuckle at his playfulness. I admire his quirky tendencies. I take note of how he hasn’t peeled his gaze off me. I feel my face growing warm. I look at him from the corner of my eye then tilt my head slightly as I gaze up at him.

“Eric, why do you keep looking at me like that?”

We take a brief pause in our walk. He looks at me earnestly.

“Like what? Like you’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve seen today?” he lets out a tiny smile, maintaining his gaze on me.

I gaze up at him dumbfounded, my mouth ajar.

“Erm..” I can only manage to let out a nervous laugh as I am at a loss for words. I feel my face growing warmer.

We lock eyes with each other, not saying a word. He smiles at me meekly.   

“You know, I was once asked how I would define the word ‘beauty’ and I simply said ‘woman.’ So pardon me for saying this but, I think you’re the most beautiful woman I have seen in a long time. And believe me, I’ve seen plenty in my lifetime. I think I’m entitled to that opinion.”

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too early for this kind of talk?” I bite my lower lip as I attempt to stifle my smile.

“Right. We’re stalling and I’m hungry. You must be hungry, too.”

“Not as hungry as you, Mr. foodie.”

“Well let’s quit larking about and get a move on!”

We quicken our pace through the alley way, then he grabs my hand as we turn right and make our way towards the crosswalk. We both look left and right to gander at oncoming cars, and clasping his hand with mine, we run across the street. Just from that short excursion, we’re both now filled with exhilaration and adrenaline.

He shakes his head, chuckling as he catches his breath.

“You alright?” I look at him a bit perturbed.

“Yes..” He responds breathlessly, “I’m..just..out of shape.”

“Ah, that means less food, more exercise for you, young man.” I tease him.

“Oi, keep it up you’ll see what happens.”

“What are you going to do to me, hm?” I smile at him girlishly.

“I don’t think you want to know my answer to that.” He smirks.

I playfully smack his arm. “Eric!”

“Oi! What was that for? You ask a guy a question like that, you will get a guy answer.” He says matter-of-factly.

I shake my head at him, chuckling. “Unbelievable..”

I begin to walk ahead of him, leaving him behind.

“Hey! Where are you going?!” he runs up behind me.

“I thought you were hungry? I’m growing hungry myself with all this stalling we’re doing.”

“Ah, we’ve got to feed the girl then. Come on.” He snakes his fingers through mine and he leads the way to the pub.

We climb the steps that lead to the front door and enter the abode. From first glance, I only see a couple sitting in the corner and eating their meal in silence.

“There he is! The man of the hour!” A voice echoes through the pub in that sing-songy Mancunian accent. A woman with long, flowy strawberry blonde hair gracefully walks towards Eric and I.

“It is I indeed and today I have company.” Eric snakes his arm across my shoulders and pulls me closer to him, smiling at me.

“Ellie, this is Leah our talented photographer. Leah, this is my good friend Ellie. She runs the pub and the kitchen. Power woman, she is.”

“Oh, you stop it.” she giggles at Eric’s remark and extends a handshake to me. “Lovely to meet you, Leah.”  

“Lovely to meet you as well, Ellie.” I shake her hand, a tiny smile breaking across my face.

She smiles at me briefly then turns her attention back to Eric.

“Table for two, is it Stewart?”

“Right on, El.”

“Well go on, you know where to sit. Are we doing the usual brekkie, Stewart?”

Judging by the way this woman talks, she knows Eric like the back of her hand. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have a history together. I want to roll my eyes at the thought.

“For me, yes. And for the lady..” Eric turns to me, prompting me to respond with my food order.

“You mentioned you were getting the full english breakfast, yeah?”

“Yes, madame.”

“Then that’s what I’ll have. Please and thank you.” I turn to Ellie, smiling meekly.

“Right. Eric knows where to sit. Make yourselves at home. I will bring you your breakfast shortly.”

“Cheers, El!” Eric chirps.

He weaves his fingers into mine and leads us to an isolated corner booth adjacent to the window.

“After you, madame.” He gestures for me to sit in the booth.

I slide into the booth and he follows suit. He rests his arm over my shoulder then gazes at me with admiration.

“What do you think?”

“Of this place?” I take a second to glance at my surroundings. “I like it. It’s quite cozy, isn’t it?”

“Exactly. One of the reasons me and the guys love coming here. And the workers here are all just lovely.”

“Hmph..I bet they are.” You don’t say. You seem to get on well with little miss blonde there.

“You alright, then? You’ve been quiet since we got here.”

I gaze up at him and study his eyes. “Eric, can I ask you a personal question?”

“You can ask me anything. It seems I’ve been doing most of the talking this morning, I think it’s time I hear from you.”

“Are you seeing anyone?”

He chuckles. “Is that what’s got you worried? No, love. I’m single. Divorced.”

What? Divorced?

He leans into my ear, seeing the deer-in-headlight look on my face. “That may be a story for another time. Today, I just want to get to know you more and to pick up where we left off in our conversation from earlier.”

“Okay. Sure.” I smile at him modestly.

“As I was saying earlier—”

“Eric, listen. You’ve got to stand up for yourself and show that you’re more than just a man with all these tricks up his sleeves. People will continue to take advantage of your good work ethic and kind heart. Sometimes, it’s good to let people know what’s on your mind so they understand you better.”  

He gazes at me with a demure smile. “Now where have you been all my life? Where were you when I was at my lowest?”

I lean into him. “Quit doubting yourself.”

“Right, you two. Make way for brekkie. Leah, I made this just the way Eric loves it. I think you’re going to love it as well.” Ellie deftly slides our breakfast platters in front of us. I can see our food steaming. Now I’m hungry.

“Thank you, Ellie. So lovely of you to do that!” I smile at her broadly.

“Cheers! Right, drinks. Eric, would you like your Guinness this morning?”

“No, thanks. I would like to take it easy today. Thanks, El. Perhaps Leah would like one?”

“Oh no, thank you. This is too early for beer. A glass of water would be nice.”

“Make that two, El.” Eric adds.

“On it!” Ellie scurries off into the pub then quickly comes back with a couple glasses of water and places them in front of us.

“Are you sorted now, then?” Ellie inquires.

“Sorted. Cheers, El!” Eric proclaims.

“Cheers! Enjoy breakfast, you two.” Ellie smiles at us both briefly then hurries back into the kitchen.

I take a gander at my plate and decide where to start. Everything looks delicious. Two hearty looking sausages, over easy fried eggs, baked beans, juicy red tomatoes, fried mushrooms, two slices of wheat toast and two dark patties that I’m assuming are what the English call ‘black pudding.’ I take a tiny scoop of the baked beans and nibble on them. Perfect. Just the right amount of flavor in the sauce. I proceed to slice into a sausage and take a bite. Mm..delightful. I turn to Eric who’s almost halfway finished with his meal.

He looks at me. Face stuffed with food like a chipmunk. Brilliant.

“Wait. Don’t move.” I snatch my smaller back up camera from my purse then snap a picture of him, giggling.

“Oi!” he groans through his food. He swallows his food quickly. “I’m going to get you for that one!”

“Your face..it looked cute. I couldn’t help it."

“You just can’t help yourself sometimes, can you?” His smile is demure again. He examines my face. His drops his silverware onto his plate then proceeds to caress my face, tracing my jawline his thumb.

“You know I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left the studio that night.” His tone has become more gentle, more vulnerable. Not aggravated, and rash like he was over the phone earlier.

“Is that right?” I’m imploring.

“Listen, Leah. The main reason I called you again was to apologize for being so harsh on you earlier. I went on a deep dive with my emotions this morning for you to understand why I may have acted the way I did. I’ve just had so much shit to deal with lately and not enough guidance. Regardless, it was not right of me to act that way towards you. Please, forgive me.” He’s genuine in his apology I can tell. But there’s more here that I don’t know about. I will let him decide when he feels comfortable to open himself up to me. When he’s ready. For now like he said, we should just try to get to know each other.

“Eric, I’ve already forgotten all about what happened this morning. Please, eat up. I love watching you eat. The joy on your face..it’s priceless. The delight of my day.” I place my hand against his rosy red cheek and I feel the full weight of his head as he rests his head against the palm of my hand. He plants a kiss on my palm then turns to me with a boyish smile.

“May I ask a favor from you?”

“Hm? And what does this favor entail?”

“Will you come to the studio again and do another photoshoot of me and the guys? I’m not going to tell King about it. It’s just for us as a group. For keepsake. I am willing to pay ext—”

“On one condition.” I interject.

“Eh? condition? what condition?”

“I get front row seating to one of your upcoming shows. I want to see you and the guys perform.”

He grins broadly at me. “Well that’s easy enough, love. Consider it done! We will be in London next week. We’d love to have you there. Me especially, I would love to see you again. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

A sudden wave of excitement and elation crashes into me. “Eric, you’re kidding! You mean you’re serious?! I can come to one of your shows?!”

“Am I bluffing, love?” he smirks.

Without hesitation, I scoop him into me, embracing him like he’s a lover of mine who’s been away far too long. And without hesitation on his part he returns the favor, embracing and almost melting into me. It quickly occurs to me that this may have been a very bold move on my part so I peel away from his hold.

“Eh? You alright, love?” he sounds concerned.

“Yes..er..I hope that wasn’t too forward. I’m just so ecstatic to be seeing you all in concert. This may be one of the few I will have gone to since seeing the Beach Boys back in my teens.”

He chuckles. “Well not to burst your bubble, love, but we’re nothing like The Beach Boys. A few of our songs may have that sort of sound, but overall it’s like apples to oranges.”  

“Sadly, I do not listen to The Beach Boys as much as I used to. I’m all grown up now and it’s the 70’s. The music is hip, and bands these days are all just far out!”

“Far out!” he says mockingly in his best midwestern American accent. “Aren’t you just the cutest little thing?”

“You know you could pass for an American with that accent. It’s pretty darn good!”

“Well you see, that’s the way we do it out here in good ‘ole midwestern America.” he says maintaining his pseudoamerican accent.

I fail to stifle a giggle at his little commentary. “Talented. Mr. Stewart. It’s as simple as that.”

“Eh, I was really enjoying our hug. May I have another one?”

My smile is demure this time and without hesitation, I scoop him into my arms again. We sit in this silent embrace. Feeling each other’s warmth. In this booth. In this pub. In this glorious place called Stockport. Life can’t get any better.

———————————————————————————

<<previous chapter next chapter>>

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[greentrickster]

I guess since I’ve mentioned the first reason I left Build-a-Bear (my insane boss), I might as well mention the other reason - one of my coworkers. They were one of those people who tended towards a chipper, upbeat attitude, and used this to hide a multitude of issues. They were also someone who expected their own boundaries and comfort to be respected while also being very unobservant towards and unthinking of other peoples’ boundaries. The sort of person who happily chatters away about politics, s*x stuff, and personal problems without asking if you’re okay or comfortable talking about them, but who also gives the vibe that they’ll take deep offense if you try to change the subject or offer a different opinion than their own.

Needless to say, I did not like them. I did, however, do my best to be a good coworker and mostly ignore their shortcomings. They were in their twenties, I’m in my thirties, they sounded like they don’t have a great relationship with their family, I can be the bigger person and assume that they’ll grow and learn with time; I wasn’t as adept in my twenties with social stuff either. People grow.

So yeah, the Last Straw for me wasn’t actually my insane boss giving me trauma, it was my lunatic coworker getting pissy because I enforced my boundary of ‘please do not talk about x horror game in front of me, I find it extremely upsetting’ for the good third time, accepting their apology and promise to do better, and then not letting them open the guard grate to leave the store (in spite of their protests that they could do it themself and didn’t need help) due to them being on crutches from a leg injury that had had them sitting their whole shift, and the grate being heavy enough that you had to lift carefully with your knees to prevent injuring your lower back, and I didn’t want them getting hurt worse than they already were. Because, you know. I’m a monster like that, the kind who likes to have my boundaries respected and worries about my coworkers’ health and safety.

Anyway, had had one good day since my boss made me sob my eyes out for multiple hours, even though I had to work with lunatic coworker for that shift, but we got on well enough. Then, near the end of my shift, insane boss pulls me aside and I discover, through a little conversation, that lunatic coworker decided to report me to upper management over something that had happened, in their own words, about a month ago. No, they had not talked to me about this incident. No, they did not talk to my boss about this incident. Yes, they did do this after another coworker of ours they were friends with (who got fired before this) reported our insane boss to upper management and got her in some trouble. Yes, they did do this during a time frame when I could name several recent incidents that they were annoyed with me about (see the previous paragraph, and also they were part of the reason why I couldn’t have lunch in the back room which led to the events of my boss chewing me out, because privacy~! (Yes, this all was a result of terrible choices and planning on our insane boss’s part))).

Also, yes, I mentioned a good deal of this to my insane boss. She first tried to suggest that lunatic coworker ‘obviously didn’t feel safe confronting me about it,’ which bullshit, I pay attention to my coworkers’ body language and boundaries to the absolute best of my abilities and always make it clear that, if I mess up, let me know and I will apologize and do my best to do better in the future. My top goal at work, besides doing a good job, is to get along well with my coworkers, as I know that that will make or break whether I can handle working there long term. They’d had a month to confront me, yes, but also a month to see that what I had done was a one-off mistake that I hadn’t repeated and had honestly forgotten about until it was brought up again - for all my dislike, we did tend to work together well.

My insane boss also tried to explain to me that lunatic coworker having to be consistently reminded that I don’t like hearing about x horror game wasn’t actually harassment, because, and I quote, “It can be so hard not to talk about things you love.” Lady, we are all grown adults in this store and that is an excuse that you age out of once you hit your teen years. Insane boss didn’t take me seriously until I made it clear that I have to deal with negative thought loops that can interrupt my sleep patterns, which can be caused by horror stuff, at which point she switched her tune to, “Well why didn’t you tell me about this problem immediately?!” Because, for some reason, my parents raised me to believe that, if I’m having a problem with a person, I should try and sort it out with them first before bringing someone else in, and I felt that the situation had been handled to mutual understanding. Wild, I know. I’m just a maniac who thinks that problems generally get solved fastest when people talk them out.

All this led to my boss finally having me also write a complaint to corporate about my lunatic coworker and the harassment I had faced from them, to even the playing field/get both sides of the story told.

Because all this is obviously the best way to settle an issue between two employees.

Obviously.

And this whole thing was still a strike mark against me - my second one within a week, the first one having been gained because of the incident with the crying that I keep mentioning. One more strike mark and she’d fire me, because that was the rule. Never mind that both of these incidents were accidents, or that I’d recently had my three-month review where my insane boss hadn’t been able to say enough nice things about how I was working out at the store. Nope, I was obviously showing my true colours as a problem child, so if I stayed at the store, then I’d get to have that sword of Damocles hanging over my head, with the knowledge that, since the first two strikes were given thanks to circumstances beyond my control that I couldn’t have prevented, the third strike could come at any time.

Oh, and also my insane boss saw no reason not to have me and lunatic coworker continue working shifts together. Because she didn’t see any reason why that would be a problem.

This was the point where I realized, “Hm, in this store I trust Lee and only Lee, my boss has proven herself actively untrustworthy, and I feel completely unsafe around my lunatic coworker. ... Cheque, please.”

The next day brought about the story I told earlier tonight, about how I quit. It’s been seven months since I did that. I honestly wanted to tell you all at the time, get some support and comfort since I know a lot of people here on tumblr have been done dirty by jobs and coworkers and bosses, but tonight turned out to be the first one where I could find the words to say it without making myself sound like a total asshole, or having a panic attack while I typed.

 I loved that job, and I don’t say that lightly. I loved the work I did there. There were aspects that upper management pushed on us that I strongly disagreed with, but I loved helping people find and make plushies, and making that experience as fun and joyful as possible. When I was first hired, I said that I was looking to work there for maybe a year or two before seeking new work - I certainly didn’t want to add an entry on my resume that said I’d stuck to my prior job for five months and then left, that’s not the best look, especially at the moment. I wanted to work there. And... all this happened.

A few days after I quit I caught an extremely bad head cold that laid me out for the rest of May and a good chunk of June. I started feeling better long enough to have one good week before my Mom and sister caught covid in quick succession of each other, with me catching it from them two days after my sister, in spite of my best efforts (which included masking in my own home). I only had it for about a week, and we all had blessedly mild cases, but I got the fatigue after effect and that wiped me out right through to the beginning of September. When I finally had enough distance and health to actually start processing what happened to me in those final two weeks at Build a Bear. It’s been... hard.

All this really ate into my energy and inspiration levels, as well as my overall mental and physical health. It’s been hard as well because I wanted to talk to all of you about it, but didn’t know how for so long, and felt truly ashamed of this, of the fact that I got accused of harassment, of my boss coming to the conclusion that I was selfish and not a team player, and of getting so sick and traumatized that I’m still struggling to get to the point where I can start looking for another job. Not being able to talk about it made me feel like I was, in a way, admitting guilt, as opposed to doing my best to be safe on a social media site where anyone can read my words and things can easily and quickly be taken out of context or misconstrued.

I made one comment to a coworker, a variation on a joke I’d made to them before and that I knew they were fine with, and they didn’t like it, but didn’t bother telling me I’d made them uncomfortable or trying to clear the air in any way. It was one comment after having known them for a minimum of three months, and then another month after that - plenty of time to learn what kind of person I am, and to figure out that it was a one-off oops. And they chose instead to sit on their feelings and use them as a weapon to strike at me when I annoyed them again. It feels so obvious now that I’ve written those words that those were the words to describe what happened all along, but it took me seven months to find them.

Please let the healing move faster now that I have. I’m tired of being in pain.

[ogradyfilm]

Recently Viewed - Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One

[The following review contains SPOILERS; YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!]

Objective. Obstacle. Solution. Complication. Rinse and repeat until the goal is achieved. Over the course of almost three decades, the Mission: Impossible series has refined its formula to near perfection. The latest installment—the cumbersomely titled Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning Part One—does it again, but bigger: the stakes are higher, the stunts more awesome, the locations more numerous, and the pace more relentless.

Beneath its surface-level spectacle, however, the film is also surprisingly intimate. The plot, after all, is rather basic and busy—with our intrepid heroes pursuing a vaguely defined McGuffin from set piece to explosive set piece—and shootouts, car chases, and train top brawls, no matter how immaculately framed and impeccably choreographed, can only carry a story so far; it is the characters that keep the audience invested in the action.

For perhaps the first time since the original movie, Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt feels like an actual human being (M:i:III’s awkward, unconvincing attempt to portray him as an average Joe between assignments notwithstanding). Make no mistake: he’s still a cape away from being an outright superhero; he jumps a motorcycle off a mountain, survives injuries that would reduce a mere mortal to pulp, and is explicitly stated in dialogue to be the one person on Earth capable of thwarting the villains’ schemes. But director Chris McQuarrie manages to find the chinks in our protagonist’s durable armor; Hunt doesn’t stick every landing, is frequently outmaneuvered by his foes, and occasionally fails to save his friends. Here more than ever, it is evident that his success relies more on luck than skill or cunning; indeed, the relative inexperience of rookie operative Grace (Hayley Atwell) serves to highlight the utter absurdity of his propensity for improvisation.

Hunt’s vulnerabilities aren’t just skin deep: he is fiercely protective of his allies—even at the expense of the mission. To him, casualties and collateral damage are totally unacceptable; while the Secretary is heartless enough to simply disavow knowledge of their existence, the loss of an agent would (and does) haunt Ethan for the rest of his days. This unwavering loyalty manifests as intense fear—and Cruise’s steely conviction absolutely sells it.

The supporting players are equally compelling. Of particular note is Henry Czerny’s Eugene Kittridge, returning to the franchise following a twenty-seven-year absence; the incomparably charismatic actor, who could recite a grocery list with gravitas, makes bloated, unwieldy exposition sound as musical as Shakespeare’s sonnets. His adversarial relationship with his subordinate likewise enriches the central conflict; Hunt is too well acquainted with his boss’ jingoism to trust him completely, and Kittridge resents Hunt’s tendency to “go rogue” at the slightest provocation—but each man nevertheless grudgingly respects the other, and they will immediately put aside their differences should the situation require cooperation.

Pom Klementieff delivers the real standout performance, though, lending depth and complexity to what could easily have been a generic minion. As the maniacal Paris, the actress—best known for her comparatively subdued role in Marvel’s Guardians of the Galaxy trilogy—projects a wonderfully chaotic energy; this is a baddie that thoroughly enjoys her violent work, relishing the wanton destruction left behind in her wake. But something resembling a conscience lurks within her cruelty and savagery, and its gradual emergence is the film’s most delightful twist.

These memorable minor antagonists compensate for the otherwise uninspiring heavies. As the enigmatic mastermind pulling the strings from the shadows, The Entity is adequate enough, propelling the narrative from Point A to Point B… but as a purely digital construct, it inherently lacks screen presence and personality. That’s where Esai Morales’ Gabriel is supposed to come in. As the AI’s handpicked flesh-and-blood avatar, he succeeds in providing Ethan with a physical foe with whom to trade blows… but there simply isn’t a whole lot of substance to him beyond this superficial function; essentially, he’s as anonymous and forgettable as the literally faceless computer program to which he’s pledged his fealty. And considering Hunt is implied to have a personal vendetta against him (owing to an encounter in their mutually mysterious past,  briefly glimpsed via poorly integrated flashbacks), this is a glaring flaw.

I assume that Gabriel, at least, will be further developed in the upcoming sequel, currently scheduled for a 2024 release. Fortunately, this is the sole thread that remains unresolved; unlike Across the Spider-Verse, which abruptly ends mid-scene, Dead Reckoning Part One arrives at an organic conclusion—the only “cliffhanger” here is the mangled wreckage of the Orient Express. And that sense of closure makes the wait for the next chapter significantly more tolerable.