#the indeed reviews on the company were..... mixed so who knows

[aidenwaites]

Torn between "if the interview works out I'm still going to be sad and hesitant about leaving two jobs I enjoy for an iffy sales position" and "thank god regular hours"

[mingiswow]

Chapter 23: the elephant in the room

Word count: 1.5 k

Summary: You always believed in the stars, the energy, the destiny, and that everything happened for a reason. But what if the oh so destiny put you in a group project with the music majors? And that one of the boys hated you guts for a reason you don’t even know why?

Pairing: Changbin x gn!reader, Hyunjin x gn!reader

You took your eyes out of your book for the nth time that afternoon, Hyunjin that sat by your side to supposedly study with you kept taking away your concentration with little giggles or when he tried to get your attention.

“Jinnie~ I need to study” you complained another time to the man, who just chuckled at your cute angry face and poked your cheeks. “Not funny! I have to ace this test Friday if I don’t want to fail this class” you pouted and took a look at the notes in front of you. It felt like all the letters and words were mixed together and your brain couldn’t understand them. 

“You need to take a break, babe” you felt your cheeks heating up at the nickname. It doesn’t matter how many times Hyunjin called you babe it still made your whole body shiver and then heat up. 

You two weren’t official or anything, not only because you never discussed the topic, but because you were just enjoying each other’s company. Hyunjin knew that you’d liked him for a while now, he unintentionally listened to you telling Hongjoong last semester. He never really thought of you this way. To be honest he always thought you were a little bit too weird for his taste. But he bit his tongue when he got to actually talk to you about something that wasn’t just college related that day he called you out. He just wanted to be nosy as he is and discover about your situation with Changbin. But he really enjoyed your company and he felt so comfortable with you that he couldn’t help his feelings. 

He was liking you. In more than a friend's way.  And truth be told he was scared. 

“I can take a break after this test. Right now I need to study” you got back to your notes and books, reviewing everything once again. 

Hyunjin went to his friends to grab another coffee for you before he left for his dance practice. 

“I’m so happy that you and yn got along” Jeongin spoke as he ground some fresh coffee beans. “Yn is a really nice person, they’re always so nice to everyone and never are afraid to be themselves. I honestly wish I could be more like them” 

“They are really nice indeed” he looked at you and smiled. “I can’t believe it took me so long to like them back”

“Sometimes is hard to see what’s on our nose because we are so used to the presence that we let it pass” the younger one said while giving his friend the cup. “You are my friend but don’t mess with yn, they are too nice for me not to break your face if you ever intend to hurt them” 

“Damn! Yes, boss” he left to go back to the table - but not before messing Jeongin’s hair - and put the cup in front of you, who stopped the studies to smile and thank him. “I have dance practice now so I’ll go before Minho kick my ass if I get late again” you nodded, smiling at the man. 

Hyunjin looked around to see if anyone was looking before giving a quick peck on your lips. “I’ll go now, bye bye” he waved at you before leaving and you waved back, feeling all giddy and happy inside. 

You kept studying for what felt like forever, but glad that you managed to finally focus more and make more notes that you thought were important for the test. 

The cafe was quite empty that day to be midterms period but it was like the universe was preparing the ground for Changbin to finally confront yn. 

“Hyung!” Jeongin waved to his friend, who smiled and walked over to him. “What are you doing here? Want some coffee?” 

“Hey, kiddo. I’m looking for yn. Are they here?” Jeongin squinted his eyes at his friend, he was aware of the whole situation between the two. “I have something to deal with them”

“Hyung if you’re going to fight with them…”

“I won’t” Changbin assured the younger one. “I just… it’s a long story. I need to talk to them. Are they here?” Jeongin pointed to the table where you were almost laid down on top of your books. 

The boy took a few breaths and walked in your direction. 

He sat in front of you, not saying a word, he didn’t want to disturb your concentration. He had to admit to himself that your face really helped him fall for the fake you. And seeing you there, moving and being your real self made him realize that if he had the chance to meet the real you, he’d fall the same way. The way your eyes scanned the words in the paper, stopping to make notes, your hands grabbing the pen like it was the last opportunity for you to study. How your lips were slightly open and plumped and from time to time you’d whisper the words to yourself, mouthing the lines you were reading, the ones you were writing like it helped you memorize. Once in a while, you’d stop to wet your lips and bite the lower one in concentration, especially when you were doodling some parts that were better explained in graphic form.

You finally took a deep breath in and raised your head to look for your coffee and take a sip, getting scared of meeting a shy Changbin.

“Whoa there, dude! You scared me!” you chuckled, putting your hand on your chest to calm the rapid beatings. 

“Sorry, didn’t want to disturb your studying so I waited for you to stop” he said, a shy smile on his lips. You had never seen a shy Changbin, that was an odd scene in front of you. Not only because he was shy but because he was talking to you. “Can… can we talk? Please?” his voice came lower and more cracked than he expected, announcing his nervousness to you.

“Sure. It’s everything okay? You seem nervous”.

“It’s because I am” you nodded, a silent way of saying for him to speak. “First of all, I wanna start apologizing for the way I’ve been treating you, I was very rude and immature with you. So, sorry for that”

“It’s okay” you took the last sip of your now cold coffee and smiled at him. “I confess that at first I was sad because I felt like it was out of nowhere but then I realized it was better if I didn’t pay attention to that”

“That’s why I came to talk to you. It wasn’t out of nowhere. At least for me” you tilted your head to the side, questioning him like a cute puppy and he couldn’t help but think that deep inside his brain. “You see… we dated for three months”

“WE WHAT?” you asked a little louder than you should and immediately apologized to the other few students.

“I mean, it wasn’t you you per se, it was a catfish using your face” you got lost for words, not in a million years have you imagined someone would use you as a catfish but here we are, sitting right next to a victim of said catfish. You signed him to keep going.

Changbin spent a good few minutes explaining how it all started, what the person did, how he felt, shy he acted the way he acted, and on and on. You listened to him carefully, trying not to get lost in the details. And things started to make sense to you. 

You felt bad for him, really bad. Not only he was tricked, but also he lost real money in this. You couldn’t help but feel guilty about this whole situation. It was your face after all. 

“And how did you find out it wasn't me? Did Hyunjin tell you?”

“No, it was Hongjoong actually. He came after me last class and asked me if you had done something to me, and then I told him” you let a little “oh” and nodded to the man, “Wait. Hyunjin knew?” you nodded.

“I mean, he kept asking me about you the day we went out and I told him I had met you this semester, so I guess he did knew. Only if he’s too dumb to join the points”

“Oh right, the date. Are you guys a thing?” he spoke before his brain could register. “Sorry, didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay” you cut him with a smile. “We’re not official or anything. We’re just… seeing each other” he nodded. “Why? Are you jealous?” you asked with a smirk, provoking him and poking his chest. “You fell for my face after all” you put your hands under your face and exaggeratedly bat your lashes at him, making him chuckle at you.

“Come on, I fell for your fake personality, your face didn’t help at all” you both laughed at the situation, finally glad that you could send the elephant in the room home.

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Taglist: @hanjistarss

[heloisedaphnebrightmore]

Bookish Controversy: Alex Aster and Lightlark 

‘Heloise the book addict’ masterlist | Heloise’s map

I don't often express my opinion about bookish controversies, but I feel this time I want to add my two cents on it because the amount of "I heard" or "I read" comments is over the roof without actually checking evidence.

Now, I don't really care about Lightlark or Alex Aster, but some of the information spread, the bullying attitude this generation is using and the herd of sheep behaviour is absolutely embarrassing. It was supposed to be a good beginning to discuss privilege in publishing and educate an author, but it turned into a circus attracting clowns all around the world.

First of all, Lightlark has been advertised as this Acotar and Hunger games mix of a diverse ya book. Arc readers expressed over and over again that the promised diversity wasn't in it as heavily as it was advertised. Besides, according to those who actually READ it, whilst there are Acotar elements in it, the Hunger games aspect of it is so very mild that you can easily miss it. Therefore, did she lie? No. But she did mislead to cater to her audience. That's where the first controversy came in. 

Secondly, throughout her publishing journey, she had shared excerpts of the book, quotes and the like. Now, many arc readers said that they weren't in the book, but if you go to those BookTokers who are reliable, only a handful if you ask me, they will tell you that they were indeed in the book however not word for word or significantly changed. Also, regarding Arc copies, many times books are adjusted before the initial release date, therefore, even if they weren't in the arc copy they could be in the book. But even if they will not be, editors can take out parts if it's not right for the story line or is overused etc. So, once again, did she lie? No. But she did mislead. 

Thirdly, people are on and on about how privileged she is. Which she is, she never said she wasn't. She even talked about her parents' money and her sister's business. She was never a rags to riches person and never claimed to be. Struggling with publishing might mean something to us little people than someone who has connections and money behind them. It doesn't mean it's that easy for them.

Fourthly, she is good at marketing. People go on about how she lied (once again, she didn't, she mislead) which as a Business Management student I completely understand. Marketing is mostly about selling something with possibly misleading context. She simply used marketing in her own way. Also, whilst I don't condone bullying, these people have not been raised well I can tell you that already, but all this attention is giving her quite a nice profit because people are purchasing her book even if to just give their own opinion. So hey, good for her. 

Fifthly, people have been leaving Goodreads reviews on the book not only to bully the author but to make their sorry self feel better. This didn't only damage the book, but actually made Goodreads' authenticity drop. Now you don't even know whose review you can trust because at this point you don't even know who read it. So this self-governing bullying behaviour has to stop. 

Sixthly (is that even a word o.O), it is not new to get a movie deal before your book gets published. It literally only takes a second to google it, but let me be your google. Companies acquire the rights many times before the book comes out. It doesn't mean there will be a movie, simply that a company wants to have it in their backpocket if in case the book blows up. It is actually so freaking common so let's not pretend that she is in some unique situation because, once again, it's a common occurrence. 

Lastly, as I mentioned before, this whole thing has been blown out of proportion. People have too much time and need to get a life because whilst it started good conversations about privilege in publishing and should have been about educating an author who mislead her audience, it ended up being a circus with a herd of sheep running to leave reviews on Goodreads for no reason.

[adorethedistance]

Party Hard - Owen Joyner x Reader

JATP masterlist

Warnings: drinking, partying, intoxication, non sexual stripping, swearing probably, 

Words: 6343 (which, if you know me, is a FUCK ton)

Summary: Going from tipsy to full on drunk is a terrible idea, but especially when you’ve got a secret to hide that could mean the difference between preserving and ruining your relationship with your best friend.

A/N: A couple items before we get started: I think I’m back on my bullshit? I mean I wrote this fic and it’s three times the length of my normal fics. Also I wrote this headassery as a literal self insert me(ace) x someone and so there are a couple flaws here and there that make this something I’m not 100% proud of. Owen picks the reader up a few times and I’m aware this kind of thing can really effect someone’s experience with this fic so I do apologize for the lack of inclusivity in regards to body type/ableism. I’m falling really behind on school work because I just can’t find the motivation which either means y’all will be seeing a lot more of me soon or absolutely nothing at all. Not sure which yet.

“You’ve got it so bad.” Charlie rests his left arm on his best friend’s shoulder, tipping back the half-full angry orchard bottle he’d been nursing for the better half of an hour. Owen’s stare is immediately broken and he crosses his arms defensively.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Sure you don’t.” Turning to meet his friend’s smug stare, Owen shoots Charlie a glare of annoyance before returning his attention to the girl on the dance floor. Surrounded by a gaggle of her closest friends, Y/n is dancing and singing her heart out to Fergalicious with Chelsea, Leila, Savannah, and Carolynn. The bunch of them share in sporadic laughs as they exchange ridiculous dance moves just to add to the fleeting moment’s laughter. An assortment of screeches and squawks blend together as they all prepare to sing the rap section of the song. Observing the level of excitement the girls have over the verse, Owen can’t help but laugh at the spectacle.

“Why don’t you just ask her out already?” Charlie inquires between sips of his cold drink.

“What?”

“Y/n. Why have you not asked her out.”

“We’re just friends.”

“Yeah. Because you haven’t asked her out.” Owen rolls his eyes before turning 90 degrees to fully face the smug guitarist. He turns about-face to prove a point, but another symphony of squeals at the next song choice drags his attention back to his other best friend on the dance floor. “You’re so whipped.”

“Am not.”

“Are too! Look, if you don’t ask her out tonight, I will.”

“You’re not even into her,” Owen protests unceremoniously. Setting the molasses colored bottle on the counter next to Owen, Charlie steps back and copies his position of crossed arms and a relaxed stance.

“You’re right, I’m not. But you are, and if that’s what it takes to light the fire under your ass then I’ll do it.”

“She wouldn’t say yes.”

“Are you sure? I mean, the only way to know for sure is to ask.” And with that, Charlie is off, speeding toward Y/n at a pace that launches Owen into an impulsive chase. To prevent his friend from doing something stupid, Owen shoves him in the opposite direction from the group of girls on the dance floor. What he hadn’t anticipated was Charlie moving so far so fast. Owen has longer legs, he’s supposed to be the faster one, not Charlie. That’s why he hadn’t anticipated turning away from his musical friend to come face to face with a very flushed Y/n. Her lip-gloss coated lips are parted as she catches her breath from all the dancing. They look so soft and inviting that Owen can’t help but stare, and doesn’t realize the several looks of confusion among the girls around him.

“Everything okay, Owen?” Snapping out of his hyper focused stare, Owen blinks a few times, trying to generate a reason for coming over.

“You’ve been dancing for a while.”

“...Yeah?”

“Let me fix you a drink?” His statement comes out as more of a question but the breathless girl agrees nonetheless. Owen extends his hand to her which she gladly accepts but not without a quick word to her friends.

“I’ll be right back, I’m getting a drink.”

Her friends aren’t stupid, quite the opposite actually. And they see right through Owen’s facade of fixing her a drink because she’d been ‘dancing a while’. Please. As if they didn’t know a desperate attempt at flirting when they saw it.

The pounding music from the backyard begins to fade and muffle once the pair step into the Shada’s beautiful kitchen space. Owen leads her to the kitchen island where he has her take a seat on one of the barstools in front of the high countertop. Stepping around the fixture, Owen busies himself with whipping up a drink for Y/n at the makeshift bar on the island. He doesn’t even have to ask what it is she wants. Ice, pink whitney, club soda, and a splash of lime juice mixed together in a red solo cup Owen had considerately written her name on before going all mixologist-mode.

“Your usual.”

“Thank you, sir. You know, I’ve only had a handful of barbecue chips since I got here, and I’m already tipsy, so this actually might get me completely drunk.” Taking a sip, Y/n hums out of pleasure, “Why do you make my favorite drink better than I make my favorite drink?”

“So you have a reason to keep me around.” At the sound of Y/n’s laugh, Owen cracks a smile in time with his favorite sound in the world. The blonde haired man leans forward to rest his weight on his left forearm. He stares at her with adoration seeping from his gaze, before lifting his own cup to drink with her.

“What is that?” she asks, sitting up taller to try and see into Owen’s cup over the island.

“Jack Daniels.”

“I want some.”

“No,” Owen answers swiftly albeit softly. Y/n, however, is not feeling as conciliatory.

“No?”

“Have you ever tried whiskey before?”

“Well, no-”

“You’re drinking a fruit flavored cocktail that’s like 30% nonalcoholic. A sip of this would knock you off your little ass.” Y/n frowns at his words and employs a fake pout of anger to guilt her now laughing friend. Despite her smile, she whines,

“You suck.” Owen merely shrugs unapologetically before sipping and wincing at his drink of choice. “So… how did your date go- with Amy?” And there it is. The question that’s been at the forefront of Y/n’s mind for the last 24 hours.

Owen met this girl Amy at a more professional house party type of event and they hit it off right away. They spent the night invested in conversation, sharing in a cacophony of laughter. Y/n had no right to be upset, but she was. Amy was drop dead gorgeous in that Mini length red, velvet dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. Her figure was snatched to the gods, and she was about 5’3”; a seemingly irrelevant thing to notice, but Y/n knew that was the height Owen loved in a partner. At least, based on all his previous flings. And not to mention, her beautiful golden blonde hair that extended all the way down her toned back. Amy was perfect to all standards including that of any straight man with eyes and undoubtedly Owen’s. They spent the entire night together, Y/n long forgotten despite having been Owen’s plus one.

Y/n on the other hand didn’t exactly view herself as the drop-dead gorgeous supermodel type. Seeing how Owen took an interest in her at that event, it was no wonder Y/n was jealous. In fact, she had been so jealous that she allowed their flirting to ruin her entire evening.

She had been invited platonically as Owen’s guest, but Owen didn’t feel guilty about leaving her alone once he saw Charlie was by her side the whole night. Little did he know Charlie was only there for her because Owen wasn’t. It was pity company. Pity company that she was grateful to have as she cried into a few gin and tonics. Y/n avoided telling Charlie about her feelings for the adorable drummer, but with the way events transpired, he had figured out what it was that had upset her.

Charlie so badly wanted to give Owen the guilt trip of a lifetime. And he did once he and Owen were alone, heading home in Charlie’s orange hatchback car. He did so by telling Owen about how his best friend had spent the entire evening crying into gin and tonics. ‘Y/n doesn’t even like gin and tonic’ was all Owen could come up with.

When he inquired about why his best friend was crying, Charlie said he didn’t know, but it may have had something to do with the fact that the person who invited her spent the whole night ignoring her; he left it at that, leaving Owen to connect the dots, sort of. Owen had come to the realization that Y/n must have been crying over him, but why? Unable to comprehend a reason, he pushed the situation to the back of his mind. So far back that when Amy texted him that same night, he immediately responded and eventually set up a date for them to get dinner alone Friday evening.

The date was fine. Objectively there was nothing wrong with it. But every time Amy took a sip of the gin and tonic she had ordered, he couldn’t help being reminded of Y/n that night. It took Owen a solid thirty minutes to finally conclude that maybe Y/n was... jealous? Of what? Of Amy? Quickly reviewing a long list of qualities, identical to the one that Y/n had thoroughly checked through when she first saw the blonde, Owen realized she was indeed jealous of Amy. But why? What did Amy have that Y/n didn’t?

Oh.

His initial conclusion in the car with Charlie had to be right. Y/n was crying over him, and seemingly jealous of Amy, all because Amy had his attention. Why was that a problem?

Oh… no. No, Y/n does not have feelings for him. Y/n is... well, Y/n. His best friend, his partner in crime, his confidant, there’s no way she’s in love with him. There’s a different reason as to why she’d been crying into drinks she didn’t like. And that different reason is why her text replies have been short and cold when he had asked for date night conversation pointers. And that different reason is why her smile kept faltering on FaceTime when he was asking for fashion advice for his date.

Y/n is not in love with her best friend.

Owen had spent the past year pushing down his feelings for the girl that threatened to bubble over the top. If Y/n was truly into him, he would’ve acted on them. But she isn’t, so he didn’t. At least, that’s what Owen told himself…

“It was alright,” he offers lamely as a reply to her inquiry. Y/n simply nods and takes another swig of her drink to dull the ache in the center of her chest.

“Just alright?”

“Okay, it was better than alright. She was great.” There’s a hole burning in the center of her heart, and against her better judgment, she expands the deficit by asking for more information.

“What does that mean- that she was ‘great’?”

“You know…” Owen trails off in search of the right words, some words, any words, but nothing comes to him. To sell her nonchalant demeanor, the hopelessly devoted girl is staring down into her cup as if it’s the most interesting thing in the room. She didn’t expect Owen’s eyes to be boring into hers when she looked back up, so she quickly musters a polite smile. Maybe the average onlooker couldn’t tell it was fake, but Owen knows something is off. He just knows. Because he knows her.

“How did those conversation pointers pan out?” She’s deflecting, he thinks.

“One of them worked.” I’m just feeding into it, he thinks.

“Only one of them?” He’s holding back something, she thinks.

“Well, yeah. We didn’t really do much talking if you get what I mean.” I don’t think I can handle this, she thinks.

“I see…” The pair stands together in a silence so tense they felt like strangers. It’s awful. Y/n and Owen hate every second of it, but what could they do? In a moment blinded by upset, Y/n reaches across the island to grab the newly opened bottle of grey goose and pours what must’ve been no less than three shots of liquid into her cup. No club soda or lemonade this time, she chugs down the rest of her drink in a flash; Owen stares at her in disbelief and shock.

Y/n hates being drunk, she likes being the designated driver, she’s never had straight up liquor in her life, and she’s a lightweight, that’s for damn sure. Owen knows all of these things and is even more surprised to see her reaching for an almost empty bottle of gin.

“Hey. Maybe you should take it easy, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re a lightweight and you know it. Put the cup down.” When Y/n shakes her head no, something in Owen snaps and his desire to be gentle is long forgotten. “Y/n. Put the drink down.”

“Why do you care, Owen?” In taking time to respond, Owen sees the opportunity and goes for it, taking the cup from her loose grasp and splashing it down the drain of the vegetable sink. “What the fuck?!”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink. Come on.” It’s only a matter of time until Y/n becomes an incoherent human being that’s impossible to wrangle, so Owen is very aware he’s on the clock. Snagging two Arrowhead water bottles in one hand, he takes Y/n’s hand in the other and brings her into the Shada’s den. There are only a few other people in the room, one is a couple and the other a pair of pining idiots, to which Owen becomes slightly wary. Not that the dynamic would change much. He and Y/n are practically a couple according to everyone around them.

Chelsea and Charlie are sitting fairly close together for just friends, on the chocolate brown loveseat facing the couch that Owen has plopped his increasingly intoxicated friend onto; Leila is sitting in a single armchair that a very tipsy Taylor is hanging over the back of to hug her shoulders. Upon seeing Y/n’s pouting expression Chelsea seeks more information,

“You good, fam?”

“He threw it down the sink!” She’s fading faster than Owen had hoped.

“I did. I poured what would’ve been her fifth and sixth shots down the sink.”

“Jesus, Y/n, are you trying to kill yourself?”

“What are you, a cop?” Even tipsy she’s still sharp as a tack. If Owen wasn’t frustrated with her at the moment, he would’ve probably laughed. But he is, so he didn’t. Slipping back into caretaker mode, he hands her one of the water bottles he snagged from the cooler on the way out. In her typical stubborn and petulant fashion, Y/n weakly throws the unopened bottle onto the couch cushion next to her. All their friends laugh but Owen isn’t having it.

“Y/n.” And it only takes a firm call of her name for the slumped over lightweight to glare at him but oblige. She retrieves the bottle and sticks her arm out straight toward Owen’s still standing figure.

“I can’t open it.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucked up,” Leila comments.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you fucked up period,” Chelsea adds on. Charlie laughs lightly before resuming whatever conversation the four of them had going pre-Owen and Y/n’s entrance.

Satisfied with the small sips she’s taking of her water, Owen relaxes and takes a seat next to her on the couch. The temporary break in her temper tantrum allows Owen to save his breath; he opens his own water bottle, taking a few drinks which ended up being half the bottle. He’s given her a good bit of room on the couch but it isn’t good enough for Y/n. It takes her a few failed attempts to screw on the cap of her water but once it’s properly sealed, she moves closer to her best friend. The water has acted like some magical temperament cure as Y/n’s previously permanent pout has disappeared.

Owen knows he and Y/n are close enough to where cuddling wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. But the way she’s burrowed into his side, picking up his seemingly ‘heavy’ arm to place it around her own inebriated frame, laying her head high up on his chest, and unintentionally resting her hand on his lower abdomen, something feels off. Her hand isn’t dangerously low, but low enough that the side of her limp palm has met the waistband of his jeans. Owen can’t help but feel his skin tingle and burn under her touch. Why is he so affected by her touch all of a sudden?

Owen is pulled from his snowballing thoughts by the sound of Y/n’s muffled voice against his chest. He leans down as far as he can which places his head on top of hers gently.

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t need to be sorry,” he whispers just loud enough for her to hear. A tiny drop of warmth on his shirt under her head triggers Owen’s memory: Y/n’s an emotional drunk. She doesn’t get drunk often but when she does, she goes all in and becomes somewhat manic as a result. That accounts for her previous anger. Now it’s sadness, so in about ten minutes, she’ll be easily excitable and bouncing off the walls.

Y/n had carpooled with Leila and Chelsea to the party, and though Owen was upset about her not picking him up like they’d briefly talked about at first, he’s suddenly thankful for the arrangement.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?”

“Unhhh.” The lack of a coherent response is enough for Owen, and after finishing the rest of his water, he sits up on the couch.

“Where’s your house key? Hm?” The prospect of losing her key is absolutely devastating to Y/n as she begins to weep. Her imminent distress in response to Owen’s question has all their friends laughing once more; Leila speaks up,

“Check the left chest pocket of her jacket.”

Owen nods, noting the directions, and gently rolls his friend over on her back. Deciding against using her strength, Y/n flops over onto her other side which still allows Owen access to her pocket. His long fingers dwarf the button fastener on her jacket that she often struggles to open, and sure enough her sky blue house key is in her pocket just as Leila said.

“Thanks,” he acknowledges Leila before taking Y/n’s cold hands in his own larger ones to help her stand. It’s a bit of a struggle to stand and as a result, the fading girl leans a bit of her weight into Owen’s side. “You gonna say bye to our friends?”

Y/n nods a goodbye to each person in the room, moving from left to right naming Leila, Taylor, Chelsea, and then Charlie. Upon saying bye to Charlie the small girl starts to cry again, harder this time, much to everyone’s confusion.

“What’s wrong?”

“Charlie looked a-at me like he didn’t l-like me.” The entire room bursts out laughing, Owen included this time, but she’s still crying. “It’s no-not funny.”

“I know. You’re right, it’s not funny.” Owen’s exaggerated sympathy goes undetected by the very emotional Y/n as she presses her face into his grey long sleeve shirt. She reaches up to hug her arms around Owen’s neck for stability as she adds more tears to the tiny spot from before. “Can you walk?” He asks genuinely as more of her weight leans into him. The only response Owen gets is a few soft sobs, and in reaction to her messy state, lets out a subtle eye roll. He shakes his head before bending down to place one arm under her knees and the other behind her shoulder blades, sweeping her off the ground before she can protest.

“Would you guys tell Jer thanks and that I had to take her home?” A symphony of affirmations and goodbyes usher him out of the house, and once outside Y/n’s crying diminuendos into short sniffles and the occasional sigh.

“Here, be careful,” Owen panics as his friend nearly bangs the front of her head against the roof of his car. Once he cautiously places all her limbs in the passenger side, Owen shuts the door and hurries over to the driver’s side as if Y/n could hurt herself in the next five seconds. He places the key in the ignition but before he even touches the gear shift, he turns and looks quizzically at his best friend. The sniffling and sighs coming from her puffy face have lulled her into an almost unconscious state; Owen puffs out a frustrated sigh as he reaches across the entire car to grab Y/n’s seatbelt for her.

Another thing about drunk Y/n is that her emotional state makes her more likely to give in to physical impulses. So after she registers Owen leaning across her lap for the seatbelt, she grabs his shoulder so he doesn’t move away. The action surprises Owen and he turns his face to look into her half-lidded eyes. He’s trying to make sense of the action but his trailing thoughts are interrupted when the girl in the passenger’s seat leans forward slightly to put her face against Owen’s neck.

“I like your smell.” Owen tries so hard not to laugh in fear of upsetting her again, but he can’t conceal the smile growing on his face. He then gently pulls away from her grasp in order to actually start driving,

“Okay. Thank you.”

The car ride is composed of mostly comfortable silence with the occasional inebriated comment or nonsensical sound from the girl in the passenger seat; Owen had been so captivated by Y/n’s uncharacteristically relaxed state, he’d been driving on autopilot and instead of turning left to get on the highway that runs south to where her apartment is, he’d gone north to go to his own place. No big deal, Owen didn’t plan on leaving her intoxicated and alone, and she’s stayed the night plenty of times before now. What’s one more night? It isn’t until he puts the car in park and helps her out of the vehicle that Y/n clocks her surroundings.

“I don’t live here.”

“You don’t, no, but I do,” Owen replies simply before he slides out of the car. Y/n stays in the car as if Owen told her not to move, and looks up at him confusedly when he opens her door. In her tipsy state, she is able to recognize what Owen is doing and smugly places her hand over the buckle of her seatbelt. With her tiny palm over the red button, she begins giggling maniacally.

“What are you doing?” Owen asks with a frustrated sigh although he can’t help the small smile overtaking his features at the sound of her growing laughter. He doesn’t get a response, just more giggling which lets him know he’s going to have to do things the hard way now that she’s in a lifted mood. “Kid, you have to get out of the car.”

“You can’t make me.”

Owen takes a step back from the open door to reevaluate. Y/n always tells him to work smarter, not harder. Another one of her many bouts of wisdom is that you can keep the attention of children and adults alike with a vastly dynamic change in volume. The question is will she notice Owen using this tactic on her in her drunken state?

“Hey, Y/n/n,” his speech drops to a low whisper. “I’m sad, can you hold my hand?” The change in volume works exactly as described; completely convinced by the sincerity of his whispering, Y/n gives him her right hand. “Can I have the other one?”

When she nods a small ‘yes’ and gives him both of her hands, Owen finds himself fighting the urge to laugh at how easy that was. He takes both of her cool hands in his larger left one to reach across her body and release her seatbelt with a swift CLICK.

Luckily Y/n didn’t tangle herself up in the seatbelt, but she had other ideas for causing trouble. Owen helped her out of the car but once she was standing on her own two feet, she began running away from him. With a slam of the car door and a string of breathy curses later, he chases after his best friend before she can hurt herself on literally anything in the parking garage. The sound of Y/n’s laughter carries through the vacant space, and despite all her best efforts, Owen quickly catches up to her. Her giddy intoxication allowed for the suspension of disbelief that she could outrun the much taller Owen Joyner, but she’s sorely mistaken when his strong arms wrap around her waist and lift her feet off the ground. Y/n’s bouts of laughter are contagious; Owen finds himself laughing alongside his best friend. Setting her feet back on the ground he asks,

“Are you going to run away again if I let go of you?”

“Yeah,” she chokes out through the tail end of her laughing fit. The candidness of her reply prompts Owen to throw his head back, shaking it as if in disagreement with the universe itself,

“I appreciate your honesty.” And with that, Y/n screeches in glee as her best friend maneuvers her body in his grip to lift her over his right shoulder.

“Owen!”

“You did this to yourself, kid.”

The silent elevator ride up to his flat is comfortable relative to the current position they’re in. Y/n’s no longer fighting being carried but instead entertains herself by tapping out an intricate beat on the surface of Owen’s back.

“Guess what song this is.”

The beat she’s playing is close to incoherent and Owen tries to stifle his full laugh in fear of making her cry again. He’s been successful so far, but now having Y/n over his shoulder, she can feel the movement of his abdomen that was unintelligible by sight alone.

“Your favorite song,” he guesses insincerely.

“No, my favorite song doesn’t sound like that. It was sicko mode.”

“That was not sicko mode.”

“Owen, how come you don’t wear a badge?”

“What?”

“Because you’re the song police?” Owen can’t help but snort out a laugh even though the comment was made at his expense. Still sharp as a tack.

Once the pair reach the front door of Owen’s ‘bachelorette pad’ as Y/n liked to call it, he sets her back on the ground albeit reluctantly as he recalls why he was carrying her in the first place. Thinking quickly on his feet, Owen forms a plan that’s more likely than not foolproof.

“Hey, Y/n/n?”

“Yeah?” Her voice is still right behind him thankfully.

“Can I have a hug?” After a few seconds of silence in the hall, Owen begins to doubt his plan until he feels the weight of his best friend leaning on his toned back. With her cheek pressed against the middle of his spine, Y/n brings her arms around his waist, clasping her hands tightly together. Her semi-public display of affection allows Owen some time to unlock his front door. Once he props the door open, Owen realizes that Y/n probably isn’t going to let go any time soon and opts to waddle through the threshold with her still attached to him. He’s able to turn around and lock them back in for the night which makes the girl begin to laugh.

“Was this your plan all along? To get me drunk so you could lock me in your apartment and hold me prisoner for the rest of my life?”

“And I would’ve gotten away with it, too...”

“If it weren’t for those meddling kids and their dog.”

True to his imagination that Y/n wasn’t letting go any time soon, Owen swivels her around his torso so that he could hold her to his side rather than support her with his back. He now has his right arm over both of her shoulders as she continues to hug her best friend. The way she leans her head onto his chest makes Owen’s heartbeat the tiniest bit faster. ‘She’s drunk, she doesn’t know what this does to you’ is the mantra blaring through Owen’s subconscious. Shaking any and all sort of romantic thoughts out of his head, he begins to lead her back to his bedroom.

Flicking the lights on proves to be a mistake once Y/n starts groaning miserably, and Owen decides the floor lamp is a better option than the overheads. Much to Owen’s surprise and relief, Y/n moves to sit on the edge of his bed on her own volition. She’s not upright for long as she collapses into the sheets of his unmade bed that contemplated neatening before leaving the house; hindsight is 20/20.

“Hmm. I like your smell,” Y/n parrots despite already bringing up the topic on the ride home.

“This is the same cologne I always use.”

“No. I like your natural smell.”

“What?”

“I was reading up about pheromones the other day. And there was this thing that said when couples like each others’ scent, it’s like a primal way of seeing if you’re immuno-compatible with someone so your offspring have the best chance for survival. It’s an evolutionary thing for the survival of our species. Ants have pheromones, too.”

Sometimes she has trouble remembering to feed herself, but leave it to Y/n to remember extensive information about pheromones whilst intoxicated. The concept is intriguing to Owen, so he proceeds to ask questions, ignoring the tug on his heart he felt after hearing her say the word ‘couples’.

“So, if I like your scent, we’re immuno-?”

“Compatible, yeah. But it’s mostly me because you can sniff out my period.”

“I can what?”

“I read that men can tell when a woman is at her most fertile because that’s when they like her smell the best. They did a study where a bunch of men were introduced to a few different scents, and without fail, the one they liked the most or would describe as ‘sexy’ or ‘attractive’ was the scent they took from the woman who was ovulating.”

Y/n continues talking about what she learned about pheromones as Owen picks up a bit of the mess around his room. She returns to the topic of ant pheromones as he digs through his surprisingly large closet for something for his friend to sleep in. His temporarily bubbly best friend also notes that he should ‘sniff her now because she’s ovulating and he would like that’ which makes him laugh into the drawers of his waist-height dresser. Returning to find her still slumped over on the bed, he pats her leg and beckons her to sit up. After Y/n’s upright again, Owen hands her his classic black ‘BEANS’ t-shirt and a pair of briefs that won’t properly fit her but will fit better than a pair of his actual pants.

“Can you put these on for me?”

“Yeah.” Owen’s conflicted with both wanting to respect Y/n’s privacy by leaving the room, and prioritizing her safety, and not leaving her unattended at any moment. He comes to a compromise which is staying by her side but turning a full 180 to face the wall of his bedroom. A couple of moments pass until Y/n begins whining frustratedly.

“Owen.”

“Huh?”

“I can’t ubns-” her words become incomprehensible as she begins to cry again and Owen turns around to find her struggling with the buttons on her shirt, her jacket long discarded on the bedroom floor. This shirt: her white, cap-sleeve crop top with a peter pan collar that she wore for anything mildly significant, this was her favorite. Owen remembers her fussing about how she ruined it only to find that she just forgot to steam it one day. So with a little heat and water, Owen had fixed the shirt like nothing ever happened, and he’d do it a million times over again if it meant he got to relive seeing the smile that graced her face for the first time again.

“What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do the buttons.” She runs the back of her right hand against her tired eyes to wipe away her tears and Owen internally curses himself for the way the small action makes his heart flutter.

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah.”

“Listen to me, you are okay,” he sinks to kneel in front of Y/n as she sits tiredly on the edge of the bed. Owen doesn’t miss the slight tremble of his hands as he reaches up to unbutton her shirt, but he prays that she will. Through tiny sniffles and teary eyes, she watches his hands effortlessly work down the length of her shirt, each button modestly dancing between his fingertips. Once the short top is fully unbuttoned, Owen returns to his normal standing height and Y/n attempts to shrug the fabric off her body. She struggles lightly and knowing her frustration is imminent, Owen reaches down to gingerly push the sleeves off her shoulders. The light graze of his rough, calloused skin against her own skin sends electric-like shocks through the both of them; yet neither of them believed the other felt it too.

Owen hastily withdraws his hands and, without warning, Y/n quickly removes the bralette she was wearing. Owen’s eyes widen slightly at her lack of inhibition. He does his best to be a gentleman and swiftly redirects his gaze to the white ceiling fan that has all of a sudden become the most intriguing object in the universe. His lower peripheral vision indicates that she’s finally slipped the black tee over her head, but she begins sniffling more fiercely as she struggles with taking off her jeans. Owen sighs and drops to his knees once more in spite of himself, and aids his best friend in slipping the material over the length of her calves and off the tips of her toes. Hoping to speed up the process, he grabs the briefs he had brought her and unfolds them in preparation for helping her into them. His efforts are all for naught as Y/n forgoes the need for any more clothing and slides under the covers of his unmade bed. Owen then turns to leave the bedroom, opting to set up on the couch for the night before Y/n’s small voice is cutting through the comfortable silence.

“Where are you going?” He sighs,

“I’ll be right back, okay? I’ll get you some water and Advil for when you wake up tomorrow.” Y/n then nods acceptingly and allows her eyes to flutter closed as he leaves the room. Despite how tired she feels, Y/n won’t quite yet let herself sleep--not ‘til Owen is beside her. When he returns he sets the ibuprofen bottle on the nightstand before uncapping the Kirkland brand water bottle he had in the fridge. He coaxes her into sitting up just one more time so she can drink some of the water before falling asleep. She sits and rubs her tired eyes as she drinks and Owen has to physically force himself to look away from the adorable sight. He just wants to take care of her forever but things have always been strictly platonic between them.

The risk of making their friendship weird or awkward was just too great.

“Goodnight kid, I’ll be right outside if you need me.” Owen leaves without awaiting a response and lets out an annoyed sigh before setting himself up on the couch in his living room. He was so focused on getting Y/n to bed safely that he forgot to grab clothes for himself. Not a big deal. He simply strips down to just his underwear and climbs underneath the thick Pottery Barn throw blanket Y/n had gifted him as a housewarming gift. That and a fire extinguisher because ‘you don’t notice its absence until you need it’ she claimed. The memory makes Owen smile and he allows his eyes to close after a long day.

A long day that was about to get longer. Owen finds himself sinking further and further into sleep until he hears the padding of footsteps that are now in his living room. He’s too tired to open his eyes, and it’s not like he doesn’t already know who it is. What does surprise him, however, is the feeling of the familiar weight squeezing between the couch and his turned back.

“What are you doing?” He half mumbles into the night.

“You’re warm.”

“That was not the question, Y/n/n.” After not receiving a reply, Owen turns as best as he can to look at his friend who’s nestling her way into his sleeping arrangement for the night. “Kid-”

“I just wanna be with you.”

“Alright,” Owen sighs out of irritation, exhaustion, and a sliver of adoration before sitting up on the couch, “Come on.”

He stands up, fully expecting to have to drag her back to the bedroom, but finds relief in seeing her struggle her way off the couch. Slipping her tired hand into his unexpecting, larger one, Y/n allows her friend to lead her into the bedroom for the second time that night.

Owen considerately lifts the covers for her to climb back into before getting into the other side of the bed.

“Owen.”

“Hm?”

“Guess what.”

“What?”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too, kid.”

“No,” Y/n speaks in a casual tone as if she’s not divulging into her biggest emotional trepidation to date. “I love you, Owen.”

Owen can’t help the way his heart seemingly stops. The way the butterflies in his stomach are going wild. The way he wants to smile like he’s the biggest lovestruck idiot on planet Earth.

She’s drunk. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. She won’t remember this tomorrow.

“I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

She won’t remember that tomorrow.

***

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[neoaevis]

How Much I Love You/Hate You 3

Taglist: @ijuuy​ @brrrrrrah

Word Count:1689

Warnings: None

A/N: Aaah finally part 3 is up sorry if this is short and kinda fast paced but I wanna get into to it so yea expect part 4 is into it(the arrange marriage scene will start there proly) and I feel like the last part is really rushed but plss give me some feedback I ish need it alsoo plss chat me or ask me if you wanna be tagged.

Y/N’s POV:

The bright light of the sun hurts your eye the moment it tries to open up making you groan and stretch your arms as you were now getting up slowly from your deep slumber, you eye your room and notice the things you failed to notice the night of your arrival, your childhood room has undergone changes with example the colors that used to be in a pastel shade now in a dark shade to compliment your mature taste but you will never fail to see how all the pictures of your childhood were still on full display on the desk you used to use whenever you were studying, getting up you can’t help but smile how things change so fast the girl who was once playing around in this very room was now getting ready to enter the corporate world, you wash yourself up before coming down to the breakfast that your mom asks the maid to make every single time. The bath made you smell like a full bloom rose which is one of your personal favorites, the outfit you chose for today was the Versace mini blazer dress with a pair of black Louboutin heels and underneath is a sexy lingerie from Victoria secret, the scent you went in for today was from Giorgio Armani Sì.

As you went down everyone was in awe seeing you big smiles evident in their faces, when you were munching yourself with breakfast your mom can’t help but compliment from head to toe and tell you how much she misses you and things she plans now that you are here, her stories made you really miss her so you also told her stories about your stay in New York “Mom, did you know there was one time I was actually really drunk in this one party and when I went to class the next day with a massive hungover my shit ass professor dropped the bomb at how we have a quiz the next day because of that I had to cave myself up the whole day and review this much” you showed her your hand and she chucked at your story remembering how she was during her college days, more exchange of stories went on and that made you feel your mom’s warmth once more( well you were always close to your mom she was the only one you had growing up) the breakfast was special today not until your mom dropped a question you find odd “Honey, do you perhaps have a boyfriend or any potential husband right now?” she asks with a smile plastered on her face which makes you raise your brows “Mom, why talk about that you do remember me saying that I don’t want to get married right?” you tell her with a firm tone but she begins to sigh “You’re only saying that now Y/N, I was like that once but eventually I got married” she counters what you said but you feel frustrated “You got married and dad cheated” you tell her while eyeing her “Y/N not all men cheat, it doesn’t mean if your dad cheated all the boys cheat” she tells you to comfort you a little “Either way I have no plans on marriage, but why the sudden question mom do you perhaps plan to get remarried?” you ask her as you stand up to tuck the chair back in to leave but she replies “M-me no I prefer being single’ she said feeling flustered “ So am I mom” you tell her as you now finally make your leave to go to the company

Mark’s POV

Mark was awaken due to his alarm but truth be told he was never actually been able to sleep well ever since the day his heart got broken and maybe that’s the reason why he would drown himself from too much workload or sultry nights with different girls, as he got up he eyes his room that he never thought he would go back to because this was the room that witnessed his lovely passions to his miserable state but he knew he should not dwell into it much because he is different now, this room should no longer remind him of the girl that tore him, he should move on and be stronger to prove to her how she wronged him. Mark decided to take a shower to finally get ready for another dreadful work day, he did not really enjoy working in a corporate world rather he enjoys creating music but due to too much guilt towards his parents and how he gave up on the life he enjoyed with her he decided it was best to follow the footsteps of his parents, honestly it was hard at first but through time he learned that it was not that bad after all, today he wore a grey suit from Armani that perfectly showed his toned body.

Mark did not bother to have breakfast as it was not really his thing even though his mom insists he eats something, he was fetched by his secretary Taeil and the car ride was rather cold he did not bother to chat with Taeil like would do normally, arriving in the company he was greeted by different department heads right from the entrance and was escorted towards his office, his arrival was a gossip amongst different staffs some saying he was a “playboy”, “spoiled” ,”kind” and many different mixed opinions but one in particular has caught his attention “he got a girl pregnant before they say and the baby died” that caught him in his tracks and immediately diverting his attention towards the girl “What did you say?” he asked with anger filling his eyes making the girl feel small as she was caught red handed “N-nothing s-sir” she said stuttering “Let me just remind you, you don’t get paid to gossip you get paid to work” he said slamming the desk of the girl and immediately heading towards his office Taeil seems to catch on so he gave small apologies towards the people and then following Mark after “S-sir are you alright” he asked the moment he entered Mark’s office but Mark just signaled him to leave to which Taeil cooperated too, deep thoughts occupied Mark’s mind especially since every day he dreams of his baby that died, it always fills him with guilt how it died so soon not even given the chance to see the world.

When Mark’s father knew that he was now in his office he immediately wanted to see his son that he misses so badly, “Mark” his father exclaimed opening his door to which he smiled at “Dad” Mark replies while giving the same enthusiasm “You look great in the office son” he compliments his son to which Mark replied to with a small “Thanks” but since Mark has a meeting soon he tells his dad “I actually have a meeting in about 10 min, let’s catch up later dad” but his dad stops him as he has something really important to tell him and it’s about the most awaited event where there big announcement will be known “I actually have something important to tell you son” Mark raised an eyebrow towards his father at him being so serious suddenly “What is it dad” he asked “We are hosting a charity ball son and I need you to be present” he announced “Yes, you told me” Mark replied “But son this ball will not just be a ball but we will be merging with another company-“ but before his dad can finish his phone rings “Excuse me son” his father said but then left immediately cause he also has a important meeting, Mark just shrugged it and went on about his day as he did not really think of it as something serious.

Y/N’s POV:

You were chilling in your office when your friend Yuna barged in “Y/N,Y/N” he said with a full glee to which you chuckled at “Don’t you have a company to run” you ask her while welcoming her for a embrace, the embrace was rather long with how much you miss each other, well before coming to New York , Yuna was your best friend as you have known each other till you were in diapers “Well I do but it’s lunch time” she said with a smile on her face and a cute doe eyes, you can’t help but giggle at how adorable she is “What brings you here” you asked her while motioning her to sit while you page your secretary to bring you some tea “First of all I miss you and second of all because you are merging with the Lee family and third we need to go shopping for dresses for the ball” she said while pointing her fingers at you “W-wait what merging and what ball?” you asked her very confuse about what’s happening “Oh you don’t know?” she asked again as if she could not believe you don’t know “Well yes idk” you repeated “ Well your mom is merging your company with the company of the Lee’s” you were shocked as your mom did not even bother to tell you “Second they will be holding a charity ball to announce the merge” at this point you really don’t know anymore “When is it” you asked her to which she happily replied to “Saturday”, well it’s basically three days from now “My mom hasn’t told me about that” you tell her as you tea arrived “Thanks” you tell your secretary “Maybe she will, but at least I told you didn’t I?” she said while taking a sip of the tea. Your Mom did indeed tell you within the day that there will be a ball that you need to attend to and it’s with the Lee’s who she wants to merge with, the whole situation made you feel like you are in a very fast paced world because it’s just your first day in Korea yet there are too many surprises that awaits you.

“All Rights Reserved”  © sibehpoor  2021

[dontwarnthetadpoles]

Best Buffy & Willow platonic and romantic moments: Season 1

I changed the order of the words in the title because the scenes i’m commenting are more platonic than romantic. The romance is mostly an effect of my interpretation and writing at this point (it will be true until season 4). I also removed the end “ love at first sight” for the same reason. It seems more clear to present it this way.   

Never Kill a Boy on the First Date (Episode 5). 

Finally an episode with ambitious writing and a decent budget!  The stakes are upped with a new prophecy, a new enemy raising, and Buffy’s personal life starting to collide with her professional calling as a slayer.    

Let’s focus on Buffy and Willow:

Remember this during Welcome to the Hellmouth?: 

Willow: Oh, I could totally help you out! Uh, if you have sixth period free we could meet in the library? 

Buffy: Or not. Or we could meet someplace quieter. Louder. Uh, that place just kinda gives me the wiggins. 

Willow: Oh, it has that effect on most kids. I love it, though, it's a great collection, and the new librarian is really cool. 

Buffy: He's new? 

Willow: Yeah, he just started. He was a curator at some British museum, or The British Museum, I'm not sure. But he knows everything, and he brought all these historical volumes and biographies and am I the single dullest person alive?

That’s Willow in a nutshell: so very bookwormy and nerdy. I can totally relate.

Someone else who relates to Willow’s passion for books in this episode is Owen, Buffy’s new love interest. He’s obviously a book lover: he goes everywhere with his copy of Emily Dickinson’s complete poems that he enjoys so much that he doesn’t shy from calling it his security blanket in front of the girl he likes. Even Xander who tried to distract Buffy from her gloomy thoughts after she missed a date with Owen, picked up on this detail and said that a lot of guy can read and that he himself can read. 

To draw from this the conclusion that Buffy has a thing for avid readers and serious students and that sweet Willow fits the pattern, is something i won’t shy neither from doing. 

It’s  also worth to note that even Angel’s personality has been retconned later in the show to fit the type: he offered her a poetry book and was seen reading a french philosopher.   

More parallels that make me smile: seems that Buffy has also a seduction technique to approach her crushes. Like waiting for the lunchtime, to see if they are alone and to offer to keep them company. Owen Is just like Willow more than happy to share any time of the day with her.

Meanwhile Willow is working very hard to win the award of the best friend of the year: she supports dutifully Buffy’s amazement at everything that Owen does or says, which (short off topic) made me reconsider the coldness/neutrality of her reaction toward Angel in the last episode. 

Contrary to Xander, she wasn’t much impressed by his looks and seemed more amused by Xander’s jealousy than curious to know more about the mysterious stranger. An important detail for me because i’m a little obsessed with the Angel/Buffy/Willow triangle - it exists mostly in the subtext and my obsession comes from littles clues i see in the script and directing - though the writers stayed very subtle about it.  

How cute did Buffy and Willow look when they were falsely arguing about Owen’s invitation to the Bronze being or not a big deal? On a scale of 1 to 10, they were at level 20. It’s almost a superpower.

 I love especially this dialogue with Giles just after::

Buffy/Willow: What are you talking about?

Giles:What are you talking about?

Buffy/Willow: Boys.

Giles: I'm talking about trouble.     

Boys are indeed trouble but girl friends are safe and loyal, and that’s why Buffy relies on Willow to help her pick an outfit for her 1st date with Owen.

Which leads us to their best scene of the episode: in Buffy’s bedroom. 

This first Willow and Xander visit to Buffy’s house and how they felt immediately at home in her bedroom is the kind of scene written to make you fall in love with the show if it wasn’t already the case. It’s such a pure, wholesome and true moment.

It worked so well on  the young me who was discovering the show and for who invitations and sleepovers were something so hard to be allowed to do because of family rules. In the show, it means promise of intimacy, trust and shared secrets, and that Buffy’s home will be a place to feel protected for my favourite characters. 

And the show didn’t disappoint: the Summer’s house will become for all of them an integral a part of their life. Willow will live literally in it for two years. It was almost a character, just like the town before its destruction.

However beyond the nostalgia, the scene gives me also mixed feelings: 

I loved without hesitation everything about Buffy and Willow having already reviewed and picked her outfit, hair and make up way before Xander arrived. Sharing fashion tips (and shopping too) with your girl friends as a teenager is one of the most satisfying experience. It intensifies the relationship like nothing else. So they clearly have reached a new friendship level here. (Though i wasn’t aware that they were so close that they could change clothes in front of each other. Like how else did Buffy put on her golden/yellow dress!?).

There is in those moments a sense of normality that both Willow and Buffy are craving for different reasons (Willow because her solitude keeps her away from it, Buffy because of her mission). 

But i’m really against her decision to use Xander to test on him what Owen would think of her looks. 

The less depressing interpretation is that Buffy might be trying to show to Willow that she got her message from the last episode (Teacher’s Pet) about her feelings for Xander: 

Willow: No, no, no! See? Xander's, I like his head! I-it's where you find his eyes, and his hair, and his adorable smile...

But Xander is doing the same thing to Willow, and the fact that Buffy who has so much influence on them, joins them in this attitude validates this way of thinking that people can be used if they have feelings for you.

It will complicate their relationship for the rest of the show to the point that 7  seasons later Willow will still think that people won’t stay with her or love her if they don’t need her.   

But back to this episode to conclude: sadly after this point our heroines are taken away from each other and dragged to the land of love triangles, located at the Bronze. While Buffy doesn’t know anymore to who give her attention between Owen and Angel, Willow fakes a date with Xander and meets Angel officially. 

The episode ends with Buffy making a choice to not keep Owen in her life  because of the danger, while she never had the same doubts about Willow (and Xander)...

And though she has very reasonable reasons to not want Owen around, who can blame her to dismiss him and keep Willow close when they both look like this together (their matching colors are making me melt)?

[adurowrites]

A Percy Weasley Snippet

The lecture hall was quiet, but not perfectly silent. Percy could hear the scratching of quill on parchment, the creak of wooden chairs, and every now and again, a hard exhale as someone met a question they weren’t prepared to answer. 

There were twenty test-takers in the room, Percy included. One proctor sat at the front of the room, the other took slow laps about the room, sometimes muttering revealing charms to ensure no one was cheating. The soft footfalls paused somewhere in the back of the room. To the left, a witch coughed, hoarse and rough and momentarily distracting. Some of the test-takers had put silencing bubbles around their desks, wanting absolute quiet to focus on the exam. Percy preferred the ambient noise of the room. It made him think of Hogwarts, of taking his NEWTs in the Great Hall with the rest of his year. 

For as much as he hadn’t been particularly popular, or even well-liked, Percy had enjoyed his time at Hogwarts. He’d gotten along well-enough with his housemates, but he had found true camaraderie in the Ravenclaws of his year. He’d often wondered why the Hat hadn’t put him in Ravenclaw. He’d asked for it at his Sorting, even though he’d be breaking a family tradition and the thought of disappointing his parents terrified him. But it was the logical choice, and so he’d politely asked to be sorted into Ravenclaw. Apparently it was that request, and his bravery to buck tradition, that had the Hat put him into Gryffindor instead. 

But he was too studious for most of his house, and he’d spent most of his time studying with the Ravenclaws. There wasn’t much conversation, just quiet focus and the sense of belonging. Percy had missed that comfortable atmosphere as he’d been studying for the barrister’s exam. His flat, as cozy as it was, had the tendency to make him feel lonely. He enjoyed peace and quiet, but he also enjoyed company. Rather than sit alone, he’d done most of his studying in the Ministry library, keeping company with the various interns, undersecretaries, and paralegals.

He came to the end of the exam and glanced at the clock. There were four hours allowed for completion, and he’d hoped to save an hour and a half for review. He was behind by fifteen minutes. He grimaced and turned back to the start of the test. 

Just before the three-hour mark, a wizard got up and strode towards the proctor at the front. He handed his parchment over and left with a self-satisfied smile. A witch followed a few minutes later, looking a bit disgruntled. Percy figured she had wanted to be the first to complete the exam. He used play such games with his classmates at Hogwarts. Who was the first to finish? Who could write a paper the fastest? He used to think that finishing first was a sign of intelligence. But as he’d gotten older, he’d realized that taking his time with his work was a sign of maturity and wisdom. After all, the quality of the work was far more important than winning a silly race. 

So Percy stayed in his seat and reviewed his answers with the time remaining. There were only a few others that stayed to the end with him, although they appeared to have lingered out of necessity rather than patience. One witch looked disheveled, her hands twisting at her hair, and another wizard appeared damp with sweat. Or tears, Percy couldn’t tell. They filtered out into the hall where the other test-takers were waiting. The two who had finished first were arguing over a couple of questions, and they’d created quite a debate. 

Percy didn’t join. Instead he grabbed his portfolio from the locker and checked it for any messages. The Ministry knew he was taking his test today, but there were still a couple of work-related messages that had appeared inside - questions about the Minister’s meeting with the court, a few requests for paperwork, and a couple of messages wishing him luck, including one from Minister Fudge himself. 

Percy felt a flush of pleasure at the notice. (Yes, his name was spelled wrong, but Fudge was notoriously bad at names.) The personal note meant that Fudge was indeed considering him for position of Assistant. Now, all Percy needed, was just to have passed the bar. 

He took a seat on the benches along the wall and responded to what questions he could while he waited for the proctors to tally the scores. it only took half-an-hour, and then the door to the lecture hall opened. There was a rush and a minor traffic jam as the other test-takers raced inside. The results would be posted on the blackboard, and Percy felt a wave of nervousness. What if he hadn’t passed? What if the Minister had wished him well, only for Percy to have to re-take it? There was no harm in retaking the exam, of course. Plenty of barristers and government officials did. But Percy had never failed a test in his life.

....Divination didn’t count. 

He got up, hands clutching his portfolio to his chest and slowly walked into the room. He logically understood that he hadn’t failed. He logically knew he’d done well, very well in fact. But what if he’d somehow mixed up his answers? What if he’d forgotten to put his name on the test? What if - ?

The other wizards and witches were crowded around the parchment posted on the board. Some of them were celebrating. Some of them were swearing. All of them turned as he approached, and he saw a myriad of emotions cross their faces as they looked at him. Some were openly envious. Others looked impressed. Some gave him congratulatory smiles. 

“There he is!” the proctor said, stepping forward, his hand outstretched. “It’s not every year we have someone achieve a perfect score. Congratulations, Mr. Weasley.”

Percy automatically shook his hand, his eyes going to the parchment, and there it was. His name at the top, and beside it, a 500, a perfect score. He felt a relieved, incredulous, proud smile spread over his face. 

“With that score, you’ll have your pick of law firms,” the proctor said. “Might you consider Bolgers and Fawcett?” A card was slipped into his hand.

“He’s not going into law,” one of the test-takers said. “He’s in government. Senior Assistant to the Secretary.”

“I know,” said the proctor. He gave Percy a sly sort of smile. “Just in case you’re looking for something more lucrative.”

Bolgers and Fawcett was one of the wealthiest, most powerful law firms in the Wizarding UK. Percy knew the starting salary was easily triple what he was making now. 

He shook his head. “I’m quite satisfied with my current position, thank you.”

“Not if you’re taking the bar,” the proctor said. “You’ve got your sights set a bit higher. Well, when you tire of life as a public servant, let us know.”

“Thank you.”

The proctor left and Percy accepted more congratulations from the test-takers, some given more graciously than others. He responded with his own, and then once he was able, he slipped away, back to the Ministry. He still had work to do. 

He did divert by the Ministry’s owlry to jot down a quick message. I passed the barrister’s. A perfect score!

At another time he might have written more. He might have written about how rare a perfect score was, and that less than a hundred people had ever achieved a perfect 500 in the history of the exam. He might have written about the proctor trying to poach him for Bolgers and Fawcett, or about the test-takers recognizing him. But he knew by now that such additions would only be taken as arrogance. It seemed unfair to him, that only his boastings were considered prideful. In truth, Percy may have been boastful as a child, but he’d been forced to speak out about his achievements because no one else seemed to recognize them, or understand how significant they were. He’d grown up insisting on his own merit, celebrating his own accomplishments, and because of it, he’d been labeled prideful. He’d tried to be quieter about it lately, but it seemed even small comments on his success was enough to considered bragging. 

“Where shall I send it, sir?” the postmaster asked.

“The Bur -,” Percy cut himself off. He remembered the last time he shared such news with his parents. They ignored the message. They were unimpressed. No, worse than unimpressed. They were disapproving. 

His siblings had been happy for him though - they’d gotten him a gift for his office. And his parents had seemed apologetic over Christmas. He could try to reach out again, see if the fences had been mended. 

But if they hadn’t... Percy swallowed hard. It had hurt, when no one knew about his promotion, when his mother and father had kept it secret, like they were ashamed of him. It had felt like he’d done something wrong. It had felt like he didn’t belong. If it happened again... Percy didn’t think he could bear it. 

“Charles Weasley,” Percy said instead. “The Dragon’s Repast, Romania.”

“Very good, sir.”

Percy left, feeling slightly easier at his decision. Charlie wouldn’t ignore the missive. Charlie wouldn’t disapprove. Percy could imagine him, getting the owl and reading the message, and letting out a big whoop of joy for him. Charlie might even tell his friends about it - how his younger brother had gotten a perfect score on the bar exam. And the next time he came to visit, he’d insist on taking Percy out to celebrate. 

Percy nodded. That was enough. As long as he had Charlie, it would be enough. 

-----

(So, I have more head-canon about Percy, but it doesn’t really fit into my fic. I thought I’d plot a bit here on tumblr because I didn’t think it was hefty enough for Ao3, and it was just meant to be a little drabble, a tidbit, a snippet. But it doubled in length and then turned a little angsty at the end. So I may have to put it up on Ao3. 

For those folks confused, this is my interpretation of Percy Weasley from my fanfic series The Code, found on Ao3 and FFN. It’s not really about Percy, but Draco Malfoy and Bill Weasley.)

[failedthetopikexam]

Korean This vs That Word Difference #8

의류 vs 옷

Firstly, big shout out to @epfks ​ for messaging and asking for this to be included in the next post!

Both of these mean ‘clothing’ or ‘clothes’ - I’m sure all of you will know 옷, but fewer people will know 의류. 옷 is a native Korean word, whereas 의류 has a Chinese root (衣類 - 衣 means ‘clothes, covering’, 類 means ‘kind, type, category’). In the past I have mentioned that words with Chinese roots tend to be more formal than the native Korean word - that is also true here. 옷 is an everyday word, but 의류 is much less used unless you’re using it in a professional sense. You could think of clothes on two different scales, a small (personal) scale and a large (industrial) scale - 옷가게 (a clothes store) vs 의류 산업 (clothing industry) - you couldn’t interchange 옷 and 의류 in these situations, it just doesn’t feel right. 옷 refers more to the actual clothes that a person wears, but 의류 is often used to refer to a type of clothes (e.g. 남성 의류 - men’s clothing), the clothing/fashion industry, or to sound more formal, like ‘garment’.

목표 vs 목적

Both of these words mean ‘goal’ or ‘aim’ like to have a goal/aim to achieve something, but there is a subtle nuance between them. It can be easy to confuse the two, and whats worse is that, often, translation apps translate both of these words to ‘goal’ in English - but there is a difference: 

목표 refers to a goal or target that you might have - an overall large thing that you are working towards, maybe like a goal for next year (New Years Resolution), a goal to get into college, or a sales goal/target that your company might meet. For example: 제 목표는 올해 TOPIK II 시험에 합격하는 것이에요 = My goal is to pass the TOPIK II exam this year. Here I used 목표 - it is an overarching target I am working towards.

목적 however is talking about an aim or purpose of something rather than a goal - it refers to the reason/purpose for doing something, such as the aim of a lesson, the purpose for the meeting, etc. For example: 제가 한국어 수업을 듣는 목적은 올해 TOPIK II 시험에 합격할 수 있도록 도와주는 것이에요 = The purpose of me taking Korean classes is to help me pass the TOPIK II exam this year. Here I used 목적 as it is an aim, objective, purpose of something.

관념 vs 개념

These two words mean ‘idea, concept, notion’, like you have an idea about something, or you understand the concept of something (abstract thinking). Actually, the meaning of these two words are quite similar so it is easy to get them mixed up, but largely it is understood if you were to confuse them - the difference is almost a philosophical thing....

관념 refers to ideas and opinions that people naturally have about something (ideas that naturally appear in the mind), as well as any abstract/not realistic ideas about things (e.g. stereotypes about things/people, beliefs etc). e.g. 강박관념 = an obsession (literally: a compulsive idea), or 고정관념 = a stereotype (literally: a fixed idea)

The Hanja (觀念) means: 觀 = to see, observe, view; 念 = to think of, study, recall. So it means, you see something and form an idea (without knowing more).

개념 refers to concepts (ideas) about something that have been formed after reviewing evidence on the topic (e.g. the concept of space, or time etc.), e.g. 시간 개념이 없었어요 = I had no concept of time (I lost track of time).

The Hanja (槪念) means: 槪 = generally; 念 = to think of, study, recall. So it refers to generally held thoughts (concepts understood by many people)

법 vs 법률 vs 법칙

If you are this far in your Korean studies (or like a good legal KDrama, like me), you will have come across as 법 as a word to mean ‘law’. 법 indeed means ‘the law’, as in ‘You broke the law - 너는 법을 어겼다’. 법률 talks about a specific law, act or legislation within the legal system e.g. ‘새 법률 = a new law’. 

Meanwhile 법칙 doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with the legal system. It refers more to ‘principles of something’, like Newton’s Laws of Motion, or the law of gravity. 

There are actually numerous nouns with the 법 stem in it, which I don’t want to overload everyone with - but these are some common ones that come up a lot. I’ll cover some other ones in a later post.

변호사 vs 법률가

Keeping with the law theme for the final word difference (was I watching a lot of legal dramas when I was making my list for this post? I can’t remember). When most Korean learners learn occupations, we all learn 변호사 to mean ‘lawyer’ - this is a typical lawyer who will argue a person’s case in accordance to the law, and who you may often find in a courtroom. 

So then.... what is a 법률가? I saw this in a book and was like.... wait, is this a lawyer too? Actually if you look closely at the word, it has 법률 in it (legislation) - these people are experts in laws and legislations, and have studied the law in great detail (and sometimes are lawmakers too). This is a term that is used to describe a legal scholar more than a lawyer arguing a case (although these people might also be practicing lawyers too!)

[ciggylungz]

Rivals. c2

Rivals: chapter 2

3.2k words

Summary: Y/n and Harry are both CEO’s of their parent’s companies since they inherited the businesses from them, they’ve been rivals since they were kids- now that they’re professional adults how will their rivalry affect them?

__

When Friday rolled around Y/n was excited, she’d had a grueling week and been working 18 hours a day for the past 6 days so she was more than thrilled to have a break. Friday’s were usually pretty tame in the office, but just her luck that day a new product design was dumped on her desk and she was tasked with going through the mountains of papers filled with advertisement ideas, promotion pictures and commercial ideas for the new line of clothes and perfumes coming out for the winter season since they were a few weeks away from December. Due to the time crunch she couldn’t really afford to push it off, so she sat at her desk and reviewed everything well past her normal hours.

It was around 7 in the evening when she pulled out the bottle of tequila she kept in her desk for late nights like this, grabbing some ice from the office kitchen and a tonic water from her own mini fridge stashed in the closet in her office. She kept the lighting low, her eyes already feeling the strain of the fluorescent bulbs and fine print papers after hours of reading and she’d like to save the headache for the next morning if possible.

She was a tad bit startled when a knock sounded at her office door, she glanced to the clock seeing it was nearing 10 at night and she knew her assistant left at 8 so she was a surprised by the interruption. Of course, he had to be the one knocking. Even through her mild intoxication she could tell that curly mop of hair as him, his face joining his locks a second later as he waltzes into her office. His lips were tugged in a small smile, hands holding a binder with a plastic bag cradled in his left one.

“Ah! Getting a bit wild in the office tonight? Tequila, you naughty girl!” he gave her a fake disapproving look companied with a stern finger pointing between her and the now half empty bottle. Y/n was always a bit looser after a drink, so she didn’t have her usual bitter comeback loaded she instead felt a strange shot of happiness? Relief? Fondness? She couldn’t put her finger on it. It was too foreign of a feeling to be associated with the man. The woman didn’t understand why she didn’t feel the sense of loathing tugging at her when he spoke, instead she let out a small laugh before flipping him off.

Harry was surprised yet pleased at her reaction. He always loved tipsy y/n, the booze seemed to soften her overly serious nature and make her a bit sweeter. They had some of their best moments together after they had a good buzz going, they’d even had a few instances of cuddling during their alcohol induced haze. He remembers those times fondly; he thinks back on them at times when they’re arguing or in the middle of a grudge holding session. Harry knew she’d never admit it, but deep down behind all her walls she really was a loving, sweet girl. She always had been yet her pride and fear of vulnerability would never let her admit it.

“Hello Harry, any reason you’ve broken into my place of work?” she tipped the glass back to her lips, taking another sip of her cocktail as she waited for his response. She watched him set his things down, shrugging his suit jacket off before rolling his sleeves to his elbows. “Saw you through the window, was workin’ late myself. Thought misery needed a bit of company, and knowing you I knew you’d probably need a designated driver for the night miss tequila.” He lifted his eyebrows in a slight teasing manner, a smile growing on her lips as she giggled quietly, raising her hands in surrender. “bad habits die hard, huh?” she retorted, the smile didn’t drop from her features and Harry loved it. She always had such a beautiful smile. Her plushy lips molded into the shape, her braces did their job giving her a perfect even smile. She had a genuine smile on, he could tell by the way it met her eyes that seemed to brighten when she was in a good mood. She was beautiful. He truly didn’t understand why she had always been so self-conscious. he hated when she’d talk negatively about her looks, weight, body etc. He’d always found her to be a very beautiful woman, and her strong personality amplified that even further.

“That they do miss Y/l/n, they do indeed.” He agreed with a nod, reaching his hand into the previously noted bag pulling out some bread, followed by small slices of cheese and finally a container of grapes. They both shared a love for the particular grouping of food, often having it for snack as kids or packing it when they went on little trips with their friends. It was their thing in a sense. He might amp it up a bit to feel a special bond with her in some way, even if it’s just over a love of the same foods.

“Brought some goodies, might share with you if you’re nice to m’.” Harry made himself comfortable on the couch, toeing off his shoes to leave him in his red dress socks. He liked to have accent colors when he dressed for work, often opting for pocket squares, socks or collar pins to tie together his outfits. He had decided early on just because he was in a work environment didn’t mean he had to dress boring, he worked in fashion for Christ sake so he enjoyed a bit of complimentary accessories. Tastefulness is key though, and he knew how to pick them right.

Y/n polished off her drink, reaching to pour herself another mixing it with a coffee straw she snagged from the kitchen during her original venture out. the woman shrugged slightly, taking a sip with a little smack of her lips at the strongness. She went a bit heavy on the tequila this time around.

“Eh, I’m on a diet anyway.” Her response amused Harry, chuckling lightly before popping a grape into his mouth. He always appreciated someone with a quick wit, and Y/n checked that box for him. He was starting to realize she checked most of his boxes regarding things he found attractive…and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

__

It was nearing midnight when Y/n started to show signs she was fully drunk. Her head bobbed slightly, body lightly swaying and Harry saw her eyes flutter every so often. He could read her like a book, he knew she was stressed, tired and wasted just from a single glance. The man found it quite cute, she looked so soft and cute when she was in this state. She radiated that type of energy that made you want to hug her; she wasn’t as guarded and flighty. She looked utterly trashed but relaxed and he didn’t mind the drunkenness if it meant she wasn’t as worked up as usual. She worked hard; the woman deserved to let loose once in a while.

“Hey, think it’s time to head out hmm?” Harry slowly sat up as he spoke, stretching with a few quiet pops of his joints. Y/n lifted her head slightly, giving him doe eyes and a pouty lip. “but I have work to do…” a hiccup sounded after she spoke, making her body jolt slightly. “It’ll be there on Monday, it’s late and you’re wasted love. C’mon time to go, hey don’t get all misty eyed on me it’s okay. Swear it’s alright, everything will get done.”

Harry frowned mid-way through his sentence seeing her eyes gloss with tears. She could be quite an emotional drunk, she bottled up her feelings 24/7 so in any sort of weakened state she began to crack. Harry had seen it only twice in the thirteen years of knowing her. The first time they were 15, she’d just broken up with her boyfriend at the time who was a total douche and he’d spent the six months the pair were together practically bullying the girl and mainly spending the time they had together fucking her. she had gotten absurdly drunk and walked to Harry’s home, sobbing and shaking only to spend the rest of the night cuddled into his chest. it was a toxic relationship and Harry always hated that guy; he gave the boy a few swift kicks to the ribs a few days after the incident. The second was during spring break, the pair were freshly 20 and someone had groped her at the club. Y/n had a panic attack on the bathroom floor and Harry sat with her the whole time, even though the filthy floor was sticky with booze and god knows what else he didn’t even think of leaving her behind.

Y/n took in a deep breath nodding her head slightly, letting Harry put the bottle back in it’s hiding spot and organize her papers before getting himself situated and heading to the car. With some episodes of tripping over her own feet and dizziness he’d managed to get her into the passenger seat, buckling her and joining her in the vehicle.

__

 “Y/n no, you can’t smash the window! Where are your house keys? Put the rock down”

Bargaining with someone who’s intoxicated was never easy, but he was worried about the woman chucking a random stone through her first-floor window instead of just unlocking the door. Drunk minds aren’t the soundest he supposed seeing as he was prying a rouge rock from y/ns hand.

Eventually the keys were located and used to forge entry into her modest town house. Unlike her parent’s y/n wasn’t into flashy mansions and cars. She didn’t see a purpose for such a large home when she was the only resident, plus it creeped her out knowing there would be more room for potential squatters if she had opted for an 8-bedroom 6-bath mansion like her parents had for the 3 of them. She was never someone who fancied showing off expensive thing, she found it tacky and risky because you’re flashing to people that you have expensive things to steal. So, when she purchased a home, she opted for a modest 2-bedroom town house and she really did love it.

Harry was greeted with a subtle scent of cedar and nutmeg, reminding him y/n always opted for fall themed candles and home fragrances. She felt it made places feel cozier and warmer. contrary to her guarded and sometimes cold personality, she always wanted her home to feel welcoming.

Her décor was nice, a large leather couch with some dark red throw pillows along with a fuzzy blanket folded and draped over the back of the furniture. Some arm chairs also filled the Livingroom, art hung evenly on the wall and a tv mounted right in the center of the adjacent wall. A nice area rug and coffee table really finished off the center room, it was an inviting set up and Harry had to resist the urge to sit on the large couch that seemed to be calling to him as he started walking her up the steps.

The bedframe groaned as she flopped herself down on her mattress, a content sigh leaving her lips as the woman kicked off her shoes. “mmmm love my bed, missed it.” The woman placed an affectionate pet to her pillow, Harry laughing slightly at her antics whilst searching her dresser for clothes to change her into. Pinching a pair of sleep shorts and a tshirt before tossing it on the bed making his way into her bathroom so she could change in private.

Once the girl was situated, he reappeared, picking up her dirty clothes and putting them in her hamper for her. everything was going well, they weren’t fighting and she seemed to really be enjoying his presence but because Harrys an idiot he had to ruin it.

“maybe if you weren’t such a raging bitch, I wouldn’t have to come take you home and you’d have a boyfriend who could huh?”

He intended it to be their playful teasing, how they usually pick on each other and make rude comments but it came across harsher than intended. He sounded utterly mean and spiteful, and after Y/n had spent the evening warming up to him and even enjoying his company that felt like a smack in the face. Just when she thought maybe he’d changed or wasn’t so bad he had to make a comment, picking a topic she was already very sensitive about because all her previous relationships were very abusive and put her in the position she was in now of being so guarded and cold she was left to a life of loneliness.

There was a beat of silence, Harry registering his tone and how he’d just switched the atmosphere entirely. There was no sense of playfulness anymore, just hurt and anger. He regretted ever opening his mouth, seeing the woman look away from him with veins visible on her neck from the restraint she was using to hold back her tears. She cursed herself for drinking, it always made her more sensitive and she felt like a fool for not seeing Harry was just waiting for her to become vulnerable so he could strike back even when truly it wasn’t his intention, his actions left her with only that theory to believe.

Y/n cleared her throat and shot him the best glare she could while her eyes burned with tears begging to escape. “You can see yourself out Harry.” The dismissal was curt and quiet, there was no option for bargaining or pleading because she didn’t want to hear anything else he had to say. Harry knew when to pick his battles with her so he knew it was best he left, sighing slightly before leaving the bedroom making sure he locks her front door for her on his way out. he’s never wanted to beat his own ass so bad in his life.

__

 As much as Y/n tried to hide it under her cold, blunt exterior- she was extremely insecure and broken inside. She never learned how to express her emotions or hurt. Y/n never had parents there to guide her nor comfort her in her times of need. She’d never had anyone who cared about her to look out for her besides neglectful nannies who left her to her own devices most of her childhood. She was emotionally stunted, and it had made her vulnerable to shitty people her whole life. It led to her having a 17-year-old boyfriend when she was 13 that pressured her into losing her virginity and emotionally abused her the entirety of their year long illegal relationship. It put her in the position of having a revolving door of toxic abusive relationships with cruel boys who treated her poorly, her father was never around so she never had an example of a good man so she resorted to getting attention and validation in whatever form she could even when it was harmful and a façade to use her body and status. The woman was never taught how to handle her emotions and it led to her clawing for control in any way she could, any sort of distraction and turned her to dark, destructive behaviors in her teen years that still haunt her in the form of physical and mental scars now that she’s in her adult years. She’d practically had to raise herself, and now that she’s grown, she’s running the company that stole her parents from her. she can’t tell who she hates more, her parents or herself.

Harrys word seemed to pop the stitches on an internal wound she thought was close to healing. While he was joking, she couldn’t tell. It was said with such a bitter malice it made her skin crawl. Sure, they’ve been mean to each other for 13 years but in her vulnerable state and the knowledge he had of her past his words seemed deliberate and cruel for the sole purpose of hurting her. not a stupid joke like he’d intended.

She couldn’t get it out of her head, she spent the remainder of the weekend nursing her hangover and a wounded soul. Her mind was screaming self-hating words, cruel statements towards herself and pushing her to look for comfort in another person again even when she knew she was vulnerable to falling back into the arms of yet another man who wasn’t good for her but she couldn’t bring herself to care enough about herself to make the best choices for her. she felt like she had something to prove to Harry, herself and the universe that she wasn’t so horrible that no one could stand to be around her even if the person she chose only stuck around to leech off her. it was a stupid mindset, one that’s left her torn to shreds numerus times since her early teenage years but the spiral Harrys verbal bite sent her into had her internally turning back into 14-year-old y/n who just wanted to feel like she mattered. She was setting herself up for pain again, she knew it. But like she stated before, old habits die hard.

and y/n decided she must be a glutton for punishment when her fingers started typing in the familiar number of her ex.

[welcometomy20s]

July 2, 2021

HoloServer Quarterly Report

Usada Constructions - Buy

To understand the current position of UsaKen, we must look to its history. At first, UsaKen was a joke, a riff on Majima Constructions, a potemkin company only existing to serve the whims of the founder and CEO. Pekora’s project was sophisticated and massive, her pranks simply legendary. But out of the blue, Moona enters. The mutual awkwardness worked in their favor, in fact this will be a prevailing theme, what might seem like a highly dysfunctional group, actually turns the whole thing into strength.

The Rabbit and Moon theme didn’t hurt them either, and the idea of Usada Construction as an actual entity enters the public consciousness, especially as a point of comparison to the fledgling Akukin Constructions… although it could be said that Akukin was the remnant of Hololive Resistance in some sense. This led to the initial expansion with the hiring of Coco and Kiara… but again this was more of a joke, a fleeting thought before UsaKen was about to come on its own.

It was the Akukin Relay that really set the ball rolling. Not only did we have the fortuitous event of Kanata accepting a position in UsaKen before finding out she did get a callback from Akukin, it spurred Pekora into focusing on Minecraft, especially her gaming plans were dirtied by corporate pressure. Pekora started small, with her misbehaving cannon and putting out her petty anger onto Noel, but soon Pekora unveiled her grand plan, Pekoland, and immediately set out to organize the company as a whole.

By now, the company was fairly-sized. It added Botan and eventually Towa into the mix, although Botan is still technically an affiliate and Towa first came with revenge, before using the company as an opportunity to learn how to be evil. Now the company measured seven strong, although they were quite disparate, having members from all three branches and across three generations. This was quickly noticed and a discord server was made in response, which led to another group project immediately after Pekoland, which was already a pretty big project. Combined with Coco’s final innovation, the Summer Festival became an even bigger project in the end.

And it would be odd to think this would end soon. There’s an actual structure to things now, people can communicate and build on ideas and the whole thing seems pretty democratic, even with its autocratic start. And Summer Festival brought UsaKen into the center of Hololive narrative. UsaKen is now the de facto face of HoloServer, and perhaps even Hololive itself. People look at the former loner as the master organizer. Things only look up from here, which is worrisome, but there’s enough in UsaKen that I’m less worried than usual. UsaKen will always come out stronger in the end.

Akukin Constructions - Buy

Meanwhile, Akukin completely collapsed. It felt like Aqua would return from her Apex marathon, but it turns out prior and prep for the solo concert meant a month break is what she needed, therefore Akukin was without a leader for one more month.

Lamy and Nene managed with their own projects, but the rest kind of fell apart. But the Summer Festival changed all that. Just as Akukin Relay signalled Pekora a restructuring was needed, Summer Festival meant Akukin had to show up. So, the skit continued. During the Akukin Relay arc, the mysterious yet feisty boss with two second-in-command who actually runs the thing scheming and fretting was a hit, with a hint of blackness in its blasted scaffoldings. Now, the blackness is very much apparent. Aqua cannot let the failing company go, and has become vicious. Considering Marine's past, this works to their favor. Lamy and Nene would be their own thing. Roboco and Mel would pop in now and again. As for Iofi and Aki… well, I’m not sure.

Choco, which I deemed the liaison for Shiranui, which has a contractual relationship with Akukin, now liaisons for Oozora Group as well. Choco might be the next important person just because of that connection factor. Akukin might be a contracting company now, although Aqua would not be happy about where they stand now.

Oozora Group - Hold

I know that Oozora Constructions, now Oozora Group, is not a publicly traded company anymore, but I still suggest holding onto that now-worthless piece of paper. The problem with Oozora Constructions was that its story went nowhere. Korone’s house was interesting, but it rarely had an ending, since it required Korone to cooperate and that’s usually an awkward thing at best. Her other projects were half-baked, and most importantly Subaru never really had that recognition. She wanted to build a company but others laughed at the prospect. So Rushia lost faith and moved to UsaKen. Oozora was tanking before it started to fly. But Matsuri took grace and joined Oozora, at which point it became a group. It’s not like Matsuri and Luna, the other employee, haven’t been together, and Subaru was called Matsuri by Sora, so why not?

In the last report, I said Matsuri is more like a government employee than a free agent, and indeed it seems Oozora Group now acts like a governmental organization, with building a police station being the first undertaking after restructuring. This is actually not bad. Public utilities are dearly needed in HoloServer anyways, and Subaru acting as a public servant removes the desperation in her actions that would make interactions much more friendly and interesting. By falling, Subaru might have turned a corner.

Tangent - Using an extended analogy, when the age of giant reptiles was wiped out by a meteorite, there were small survivors, which we now know as birds. So, it looks like Coco’s legacy would also be held by birds, holotoris to be exact. To explain why, let’s look at the current functional part of Coco. Coco is the bridge that connects East to the West, not just in terms of language, but also in culture and mores. In that way, holotoris nicely distributes this responsibility. Subaru might be the best JP member after Haachama in terms of English comprehension, and she is quite cognizant of recent foreign perspectives as well… so she could be a good future ambassador. For Reine, her Indonesian teaching stream reminds me of Coco’s early streams. And Kiara’s Holotalk has been the counterweight to Coco’s meme review since it started… Not to mention, these three are the most extroverted of their respective branches.

Shiranui-Elite Conglomerate - Hold

SEC is an organization of my own creation, but it’s a useful one, because it fits the current situation well. To sum up, Elite Construction was starting to fall apart as Minecraft activities waned, one of the replacements was GTA V, and the three major players were Miko, Flare and Suisei. Their collab together was probably the highlight of the last quarter and gave us a bright spot during a time of troubles.

As Minecraft activities increased, due to PekoLand and HoloID mall and Mel and Roboco popping in and out, the connection before was starting to bore out in Minecraft. Shiranui was originally a contracting company, working with Akukin for example. Therefore it had a family business type, indeed the only other employee was an honorary one given to Flare’s wife, Noel. But a series of interactions with Polka and Choco led to this master and apprentice relationship, which was a major hit.

Flare, pardon the pun, was always the black sheep of the Hololive Fantasy. While the other four have something to stand out and something to back the flash (Pekora draws with her laughter and manic behavior which is backed up by her earnest shyness, Rushia draws from her yandere metal screams which backed up by her sincerity and fragility, Noel draws with her upper assets and ASMR which is backed up by her erogaki silliness and her charming singing, and Marine draws from her horny nature which is backed up by her wit and almost motherly wiseness), Flare never really landed a character. Indeed, Flare is a straight man through and through. Not quite a tsukkomi like Subaru or Kanata at times, since there is not that retorting arrogance the two can exhibit, as people call, Flare was your comfy older sister...

But the Western audience and this Polka relationship changed that. In the West, the fatherly figure has more of a distinct and prominent role, and Flare can emulate this pretty well. A dad is grounded and serious, but can be silly and childish at times. But the silly and childishness does not undercut his serious nature… and that goes well with Flare (perhaps even more so than Calli, who is on a goofier side of things). Therefore Flare could finally breathe and express herself. And the introduction of Miko and Suisei brings the crew into full focus. They are reminiscent of early UsaKen, except while UsaKen was disparate, SEC most closely resembles… well, a D&D party. With your typical silly arguments and trials leading to growth and so on.

Adding Marine or even Nene might disturb this. Flare is fine with the size and I am too. It’s not like there are any real pickings left anyway. Shiranui-Elite conglomeration have a long journey ahead of them, but a brighter future that goes along with it too.

Haachama Construction - Sell (but buy Watasheep)

It was inevitable. Haachama/Haato thing was not going to be settled soon. Haato barely finished the Coexist arc, getting the Anno disease in the process. It was pretty clear that the Haato/Haachama thing became overblown and unfitting to what Hololive was now.

But this leaves us with Watame, and Watame is in an interesting position. Watame is between a lot of companies now. With Shiranui-Elite, she is part of the four heavenly lords, and as Watasheep, she does the delivery of Menya Botan and KFP, both part of UsaKen, who inadvertently cornered the fast-food business. And she is part of the 4th Gen, who has come much closer due to the departure of Coco.

Watame has always made the safe choice, she revolutionized the server with her excellent Janken machine, but it was Kanata who became the seller. Watame might choose to leave herself out, since her Minecraft streams are kind of meant to be relaxing. The reason she deliberately chose to level her field, instead of building the sign outwards like the rest of the signs. So, perhaps nothing comes of this…

OkaKoro Constructions & Shirakami Forestry - Buy

This wave of HoloServer was so large that even the rarer visitors felt a need to visit. Flare has reached out to Okayu, who has pointed out the reason for her absence was the loss of her basement and Korone has followed interest in the server as well.

Fubuki returned to finish her massive sakura tree, of course she acts alone, but she has been increasingly open to hiring people, but it’s not sure if this will become reality. Perhaps if Akukin finally dissolves, there would be enough workforce…

Kureiji Constructions - Buy

Ollie had a roller coaster of three months… Like a burnt fuse, Ollie has had several physical problems… that didn’t stop her from doing math streams (there are precedents Yashiro and Gwelu being good examples) and returning recently with late contributions to the Summer Festival. Reine has been helping on the side as well…

Free Agents - Sell

There is not much of this category anymore. Anya is the One who does not play Minecraft, in fact her demeanor is quite different from anyone else. Ayame not only has been gone from Minecraft, she has been gone, period. She really just returned to streaming after about three weeks? Risu is the only one remotely available, but she has the gene of OkaKoro, which does not induce work ethics in Minecraft, no matter how skilled she is. (Her roller coaster MLG is still one of my favorite clips)

Overall, 2021 Q2 was the best of times and the worst of times. There was a lot of big progress and a lot of setbacks as well. It’s a deeply uncomfortable but adventurous position, as it always has been for HoloServer and HoloPro as a whole. Next quarter will be further accomplishments and further challenges, and the company and the personalities and the audience will bear it through it all, as they always have.

[gypsydanger01]

THE STORM - Part six

Fandom: The Boys (Amazon prime tv series)

Pairing: Black Noir x Reader

Disclaimer: I don’t own The Boys, only my OC characters and certain pieces of au plot.

Comments, reviews, constructive criticism, and other requests are always more than welcome!

      Posting new chapters every Wednesday and Friday!

          Getting to know you

While a certain member of the Seven entertained violent thoughts at the upper levels, Sarah sat at her desk filing papers. To be honest, she was studying more than she was doing her job, but there wasn’t much of a workload anyway. Keeping her textbook laid flat against her knees, she quickly went through the lines of text before typing away at her computer for a few minutes.

Martha was perched on her desk reading through some folders.

“You do know you’re not fooling anyone, right?”

Sarah sighed and finished the paragraph she was reading on molecular recognition.

“I know,” she conceded, before defending herself. “At least I’m doing something constructive.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and shot, “Look at Sierra, over there.”

Her friend moved naturally, looking over at the clock while noticing the young woman taking a string of selfies with her coffee. Martha grimaced, shaking her head.

“No girl, just no.”

“I know.”

“Someone needs to tell her, she won’t stop.”

Sarah laughed, “She’ll learn someday.”

Checking the clock herself, she found herself growing hot. She pressed her sweaty palms into the wood surface of her desk, letting her legs stretch out underneath it. Her fingers twitched slightly, and she masked her unease by bringing her hand back to her mouse, clicking away at the screen.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Sarah made a noncommittal sound, not letting her eyes move away from the screen in front of her.

“You look...” Martha trailed off before finding the right word, “squeamish.”

“Well that sounds lovely. Just what I like to hear.”

Martha sighed, her eyes narrowing at her friend. “You know I worry. You sure everything’s okay?”

The sight of Black Noir occupying her couch was seared into her mind. She could no longer hide. She could only face it and be smart about the information she disclosed.

Her friend was still watching her, and Sarah finally pushed away from the desk.

She pushed her glasses back up and, pinching the bridge of her nose, she bowed her head down.

With her hair falling around her face in soft curls, she murmured, “I’ve made a contact.”

Martha immediately put her papers down and turned to fully face her. “What do you mean?”

“Someone reached out. It’s dangerous, but it could be very rewarding.”

“Who is it?”

Sarah looked around and brought her hands back to the keyboard.

“I really can’t say.”

At Martha’s pointed look, she further explained. “I really can’t tell you. It’s someone—,” she wasn’t sure how she could describe Black Noir without giving it away. “It’s just someone really high up. Lots of info.”

“Oh my gosh, it’s B.N. isn’t it? You said he made contact.”

Sarah shrugged. “Maybe.”

Martha stared at her for a few moments before accepting her friend’s silence.

“Just be careful, okay?”

Sarah nodded, “You know I am.”

Her friend shook her head. “I know you are, but we’re getting closer. Things could get hot.”

The room grew even louder and more boisterous as lunch time rolled around. Sarah proceeded to close the files she’d been working on.

“Oh, and you’ll have to tell me all the deets, understood?”

The young woman laughed, wondering deep down if she’d be able to tell her anything at all. The dead don’t speak.

“I’m ready for lunch, let’s go find Annika.”

.

The hours after lunch were spent worrying and suffocating that same preoccupation with fool-proof schemes. It was an endless cycle, really. Every time she found a flaw in her set of questions, it sent her spiraling into self-doubt. Could she truly pull this off?

She was more and more convinced that he hadn’t been sent by Vought, simply because he was a trained assassin who didn’t need these long and ambiguous methods to extract the information he needed. He was more than capable of inflicting mind-blowing amounts of pain. And pain always loosened the tongue.

So maybe he wasn’t doing this for Vought. Maybe his fixation and stalkerish tendencies towards her could be chalked up as misguided and genuine. In that case, he was still a dangerous wild card since she wasn’t who he thought she was. If he’s truly loyal to the company, her identity might prove to be an issue.

And so, it went on and on. She went through potential questions she could ask, and questions she should steer clear of. She recalled all the tips and tricks Mallory had taught her, from the phrasing of the questions, to the body language she should maintain. The goal was to ask a series of common questions and sparsely slip an inquisitive one into the mix. But would this work on him?

She’d have to work much slower to access some, if any, information.

Most of all, she was afraid of her body giving her away: her fast heartbeat and shallow breathing, paired with the subtle interrogation could give it all away. And this terrified her.

Sarah watched the clock tick closer and closer to five o’clock with increasing dread.

When it arrived, she waved over to Martha, gathered her things and walked out the door with as much confidence as physically possible.

.

In his living quarters, Black Noir stood in front of a mirror. He remembered Sarah’s reaction. The woman apparently concealed it well, but he’d caught onto her fear, her state of agitation and turmoil. Was it because of his dark appearance, or was it something deeper, a reaction to the violence he represented? He tilted his head to the side. Or did it have to do with her file, something she’s hiding?

The tall man couldn’t think of any way to convince her of his good intentions towards her. All he could do was respect her boundaries and listen to her; hope she’d accept him.

He usually avoided the mirror in his room, not really needing it for any aesthetic reason. He wore the same armored suit every day and was almost always covered from head to toe in tough black material. And yet now, he stood tall in front of it and took in the sight. He was closed-off, impenetrable, dangerous and stealthy. He appreciated the simplicity of the reinforced suit. It wasn’t flashy like the ones his teammates wore. And it didn’t convey any light-hearted or patriotic meaning. It was functional and allowed him to blend into the shadows and kill. His skull-like mask was the last thing many men saw before he proceeded in tearing them apart. Seeing it in daylight had nothing on witnessing it come out of the shadows at night. Like a nightmare taking form right before their eyes.

And now Sarah had witnessed a small violence on his part, the skull he hid behind and the strength he possessed. It was perfectly normal for her to be afraid.

But the knife, a small part of him reminded. Yes, that was a puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. But he’d take his time, god knows he could be patient. Especially if it was for her. The mysterious Sarah Burns.

.

As eight o ‘clock crept closer, Sarah could be found in her kitchen, finishing up her dinner. The creamy pasta she’d made sat heavy in her stomach, the knowledge of her impending doom adding an extra ton. After quickly washing the dishes, she sat at the table and scrolled through the memes Martha had sent her. When she realized they revolved around Homelander, she grew interested. There was no way the Seven’s leader would accept this, and the inner conflict it would produce was the perfect cover for her plan to proceed.

Suddenly, the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Sitting still, she tensed, ready to whip up and out of her chair. A dark clothed hand came up and over her shoulder moving towards her cell phone.

She almost jumped out of her skin as her mind thought of the worst possible outcome of having his hand so close to her neck. And yet, he simply leaned over and promptly pressed the heart icon below one of the memes. He liked the meme.

Sarah opened her mouth to speak and closed it a few times. He finally retreated from his spot hovering over her and went to stand at a respectful distance, his back to the wall.

She spun around and stood up, her heart still clogging her throat.

“Jesus Christ,” she hissed, eyes wide and a hand raised to her chest.

He simply watched her with that magnetic gaze she couldn’t seem to escape. She picked at the hem of her shirt, not knowing how to proceed. How had he even entered the house?

His gaze settled on the small notebook she’d left on the table for their upcoming meeting. He moved slowly and gave her wide birth as he took it up into his hands. He flipped to a blank page and wrote.

Are you afraid, he paused before adding, of me?

He passed the notebook to her. She took it hesitantly, and once she read his message, her eyes kept flicking from the page to his mask. You could snap me like a twig. She was indeed very much afraid.

“No,” she answered, with a slight shake of her head.

He tilted his head slightly to the left before raising his hand to his chest. He lightly tapped right over his heart. Sarah initially didn’t understand the meaning of the gesture, but soon realized he was referring to her heartbeat.

She brushed it aside, “Oh...” You probably have a dozen different instruments of death concealed in your suit. “That’s nothing, I’m just jumpy, I guess.”

She hummed, looking for a way to grow her confidence and gain control of the situation.

“Plus, you kind of came out of nowhere. In my house.”

He was still, unsure of how his sudden appearance would pan out. He almost wanted to hit himself for not thinking it through.

“How did you even get in here? I know everything was locked.”

He shrugged, almost imperceptibly, before offering his hand. She passed him the notebook and pen.

Trade secret. If I told you, I’d have to kill you :)

Her heart almost stopped cold before she regained composure. If it weren’t for the smiley face he’d added towards the end, she might have died right then and there. And she laughed, she actually laughed. Maybe it was the tension, or the insane fact that Black Noir was in her home, attempting to crack a joke.

“I guess I don’t really need to know,” she surmised with a small smile.

He nodded before adding more to the page.

Your day?

“How was my day?

He nodded, captivated by the fluid movements her hands naturally made as she spoke. He’d noticed it immediately the first night he’d seen her at the gala. Over the next week of watching her, he’d quickly filed it as one of her mannerisms.

“I can’t complain. Honestly, I don’t really like that job, it’s more something to keep the bills payed until I get the position I want.”

He wrote, PhD student. Applied Physiology

“That’s correct,” she confirmed. “Why am I not surprised you know that?”

I know some things. Not everything.

He wanted to apologize for making her uncomfortable but ultimately found it too difficult to actually write down. He wasn’t accustomed to apologizing; he’d never actually needed to. Not out loud, or on paper.

She accepted the quiet confession. “That’s okay. I’m not all that interesting, and there’s nothing to hide.”

They both knew it was a lie, but Black Noir understood her need to protect herself. She’d share the truth with him once he’d won her trust.

“How was your day?”

He straightened and thought of how to approach this question. Thinking on his toes, he went with the easiest, most believable story.

Meetings, promotional event. He added for emphasis. Boring. I slept.

There was no way he could tell her he’d spent most of the day fantasizing her ex-boyfriend’s murder, only to have it executed a few hours ago.

She laughed lightly, “Who knew, I thought you’d be off on some top-secret mission.”

Her hopes were crushed when he answered with a simple shake of the head. She hummed. He leaned against the wall, ever observant of the woman facing him.

“Oh, you can sit. Here let me—”

She got up to pull a chair out for him, but he stopped her with a raised hand. He crossed over to her side of the table and angled the chair she’d been previously occupying before abruptly standing and knocking it out of the way. She slowly sat and let him push her in. He calmly took a seat in front of her.

“Thank you”

I have manners :) 

She nodded, “Yes, you do.”

She squirmed under his stare, under the black mask she was starting to grow accustomed to.

Sarah broke the silence, “I wanted to thank you for the other day. I could’ve handled it, but I’m glad you intervened.”

He watched her and she continued, “It was a bad relationship, and seeing him really threw me off balance. Then you showed up, and I was just…,” she trailed off.

He reached out and briefly touched her hand before sharply retrieving it. It was what he’d seen other people do in society, or in the movies he watched in the privacy of his living quarters. As he understood, it was meant as a way to show affection and give comfort. But were they at a stage where he could do that? He honestly didn’t know.

He jotted down a line, I understand

“And thank you for the gifts, I mean, the flowers and the earrings—they’re all so beautiful but you really don’t have to go through all that trouble.”

I want to

She smiled reading the words. She leaned back in her chair and took him all in. Who was this man? The Black Noir she’d gathered intel on for Mallory was nothing like the man sitting in front of her. Well, maybe that was extreme, she had seen proof of his deadly work. And yet, she was not seeing the ferocious, sinister monster she’d come to imagine over the years.

He was a more complex sort of enigma, one that was maybe as complicated as her own. While she needed to maintain her guard around him, she found herself slightly relaxing in his presence. There were multiple layers to this man, and maybe she could appeal to the human, well-mannered side of him.

.

They spent the rest of the next hour exchanging questions. They mostly revolved around their likes and dislikes, jumping from books to foods, and finally to movies. She quickly realized he was well cultured on cinema, especially war and action movies which he clearly enjoyed.

“Hmm, how about Tears of the Sun?”

He nodded. A favorite.

“Black Hawk Down?”

The large man nodded with enthusiasm.

“What about Saving Private Ryan.”

He snorted. Don’t insult me

“What’s your favorite movie ever? Like the perfect mix of action, shooting and humor.”

He thought for a few seconds before deciding. Die Hard

When he pushed the notebook towards her for her to read, he emphasized his point by tapping on it and sitting back, arms crossed.

“Well, I like what I see. Yippee kay ye, am I right?” she said with mirth. “Yeah, I think that’s Bruce Willis’s best movie.”

He was glad she liked it as well. Early that morning, he’d made a rapid search on the Internet before having to attend meetings. He searched, “How do you know your first date is going well.” He wasn’t quite sure if it was an official date, but in his mind, it was as close to it as it could get. His search gave a wide range of answers. After reading through a bunch of them, he gathered that for it to go well they needed to click. There had to be a spark, whatever that meant.

More precisely, there had to be common topics, common likes and dislikes. The conversation should come easy, and awkward silences should be avoided at all costs because, while they might not disturb him, they may be uncomfortable for her. And while they’d gotten off to a rough start, things were now going quite smoothly.

Sarah thought long and hard, “What about Pearl Harbor? It isn’t as action-packed but it’s still a really good historical war movie.”

No

She nodded, and shyly added, “Well, if you’d like to, you could come over and watch it. Actually, we could watch Die Hard one time, and Pearl Harbor another.”

He watched her, the way she was so self-conscious. Sarah constantly touched her cheeks, her curly hair, her neck. If only she could see herself the way he saw her.

He wrote. I would like that

Checking her watch, she barely contained a yawn.

“I’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s just late for me,” she assured.

I’ll go

“No, it’s okay, really.”

He shook his head. I don’t need sleep. You do

I’ll be back for those movies

Sarah smiled, “All right.”

Black Noir rose to his full height and she watched him with a twinge of fascination. Who even was this man?

When can I see you

“Well, tomorrow night I’m going out with my friend, but we can definitely schedule Die Hard for the night after. Eight pm?”

I’ll be here.

She walked him to the door and leaned against the wood. The doorway seemed smaller as he walked through. He clicked the switch turning her porch lights out and quickly jotted a few lines down.

Turn them on when I leave. Safer

She nodded with a small smile. How could someone as dangerous as him be so concerned with her well-being, she didn’t know, but she found herself liking it regardless.

He quickly scribbled something down before shutting the notebook and handing it back over.

Facing her, he raised a hand as if he were about to wave. His hand twisted into a thumbs up before he took his leave. Walking away, he crossed under a single streetlight before disappearing into an alley.

She stayed there for a few more seconds, just peering into the darkness. Heeding his advice, she shut the door and switched the porch lights back on. Retreating further into her home, she flipped through the pages looking for his last note. It was a small smiley face he’d doodled on the edge of the page.

She steeled herself against feeling anything but contempt. She reminded herself of the danger he could pose to her. But as much as she wanted to suppress it, she couldn’t help the small smile on her face as she fell asleep.

Giulia

PART 7

Tag list: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @ellejo @dust-bun @coco724​  @proximio-5​ @damiminator

Let me know if you want to be tagged!! Or you can like this post and I’ll add you :)

[shadow-assassin-blix]

A Christmas to Remember

Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Reader/You

This is my Secret Santa gift as part of the #Pedros12DaysofChristmas to one @mickeymouse-moshpit​ who wanted some fluff. This is my first time writing for Whiskey and I had a lot of fun with it. (Also, I sent an anon a while ago but I dont know if you ever saw it, or if tumblr ate it, so if you specified anything else my apologies!) I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings: Talks of loss of childhood dog, Whiskey mentions his deceased wife. Some anxiety issues in the form of trying to be a people pleaser. 

It was a few days before Christmas Eve, and most of the Statesmen were spending the day catching up on paperwork before heading out on vacation. That is where you were; stuck in your office finishing up reports.

It has been a rough couple of weeks for you. A mission you went on a week ago, went terribly. Your CI had gotten killed, and you had almost walked into a trapped that could’ve been the death of you and your team.

Thankfully, another agent who had been your backup got you out of there before anything could happen. Agent Jack “Whiskey” Daniels had been a literal lifesaver that day.

Then on top of that, your childhood dog had passed away over a month ago. He had been about 15, so his passing wasn’t too shocking, but it still broke your heart. He had been with you through so many changes: college, jobs, moves, break-ups. This was the first Christmas in years, that you would be spending it alone.

So, here you were typing up the last report before the holidays, with a smidge of dread.

It was as you were editing the report that you saw Whiskey making his way out of his office across from yours. You had always thought he was extremely handsome. He was a flirt, sure, but he was damn good at his job. You had been trying to figure out how to properly thank him for days since he saved your ass.

You bit your lip as an idea popped up in your head, and found yourself chasing after him, trying to catch up before he got on the elevator.

“Hey Whiskey!” You called out when you see him waiting for the elevator, just ahead of you.

He turned around, slight confusion on his face as he watched you run up to him.

“Where’s the fire darling?” He asked slight concern in his voice.

“Sorry. Um. Was wondering… do you have any plans for Christmas Eve?” You slowly asked, trying to not sound too winded.

“Uh. Not much. I’m on the graveyard shift both nights. Why you ask honey?” He questioned curiously.

“Well. I tend to have a small dinner at home and watch cheesy Christmas movies. I was wondering if you would like to join me? No one should spend the holidays alone or at work,” You offered with a small smile, scratching the back of your neck awkwardly.

Whiskey stared at her surprised. He wasn’t expecting that.

“Um. That’s mighty kind of you. I may take you up on that. I’ll let you know, yeah?” He finally answered not knowing what to say.

You nodded your head, somewhat excitedly.

“Great. No pressure though! I just… don’t want to be alone to be honest. But um. Just let me know, okay?” You said with a wave as you walked back to your office.

You go back inside, finish your edits and sent off the report for review. It was as you were gathering your things, that you realized that what you said… sounded a little guilt trip-y.

You winced as you thought more and more about it. When you got down to your car, and was simply sitting in it, you decided to text him.

‘Hey, umm. I’m sorry if what I said early made you feel awkward. I just wanted to do something nice for you after that mission last week. If I overstepped or made you feel weird, I am sorry.’

You hit sent before typing out one more thing.

‘If you want… we can just ignore that whole conversation.’

You sent it and then threw your phone over into to the seat next to you, not wanting to look at it ever again.

You made your way home and soon enough you were walking upstairs into your apartment. As you set your stuff down, you checked your phone expecting something horrific. There was nothing. You unlocked it to see the conversation, wanting to be sure nothing had been said. All that was there were your two messages. So, you continued on with your night, checking your phone occasionally.

Two days later, it was Christmas Eve, and you still had yet to hear from Whiskey. You simply sigh in resignation that he was either weirded out by you, or just wasn’t interested.

You began cooking your dinner at about 11am. You tended to make a lot of food, despite it usually only being for one person. You loved leftovers and it meant not having to cook a lot for a few days. It was about 3pm when you were fixing up the ham, getting ready to put it in the oven, when you heard a knock at the door.

You stared at it confused before walking over to it. When you opened it, there was a man you didn’t know standing there.

“Uh. Can I help you?” You asked awkwardly looking at him and the dishes he was carrying.

He looked at you then at the door number, and went, “Aw. Shit. Sorry. Got off on the wrong floor. My bad. Um. Merry Christmas?”

You laughed a little and said, “Merry Christmas to you. Enjoy whatever you’re about to eat, it smells delicious!”

He threw a ‘thanks’ over his shoulder as he walked away. You close the door and went back over to your ham. You finished preparing it and set it in the oven, creating a timer for it.

You were in the middle of cleaning up the slight mess that had been from that and was setting the table with everything that you had made earlier when another knock came to your door.

You walk over with a sigh, mentally preparing to direct another person who was at the wrong door. But upon opening it, you were surprised to see Whiskey standing there instead. He was wearing a simple black polo and jeans, a white cowboy hat in one hand and a bottle of wine tucked under his arm.

“Hi,” He greeted with a small smile.

“Hey,” You were shocked to say the least.

It took a moment for your brain to start functioning again before you realized you had yet to let him in. You stepped aside and he walked in setting his hat on a rung on the coat rack.

“I uhh… I brought some white wine. I remember you saying you’re not a fan of red,” He stated showing you the bottle.

You smiled at him meekly, and asked, “You remembered that?”

He nodded with a small smirk, “I only remember the important things.”

“My preference in wine is important?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Indeed. I find most things that you tell me about yourself important. How else would I be able to woo you?” He fired back his smirk growing.

You felt your face warm with embarrassment before clearing your throat, “Ahem. Um. Dinner will be ready in about 30 minutes. There’s plenty to snack on as well, so help yourself.”

You made your way into the kitchen to get a bottle opener and a pair of wine glasses. Whiskey followed you, taking the opener from you gently. He quietly opened the bottle and poured the both of you glasses.

He then picked up both glasses and took them over to the couch, holding them, waiting for you to join him. You sat down next to him and took one. You clinked your glasses together before taking a sip.

You turned slightly to look at him, leaning back on your couch.

“Are you uh… still doing the graveyard shift tonight?” You politely asked, fiddling with the stem of your drink.

“No. I’m not. Decided against it,” He answered softly.

“Why uhh… why did you agree to do them in the first place, if I may ask?” You inquired, propping your arm up on the back of the couch to rest your head on it.

“Nothin’ better to do. Haven’t really celebrated the holidays in years. Not uhh. Not since my wife died,” He admitted with a flinch.

You stared at him, horrified. You didn’t know what to say. What does one say after that?

“I’m sorry… if this.. if this bothers you, you don’t have to stay,” You whispered feeling awful.

“It doesn’t bother me. Not as much as I thought it would. To be honest, I had planned on saying no. But. I don’t know. Somethin’ kept naggin’ at me to go. Maybe it’s cause yer the first woman in years that I’ve truly been interested, if it’s not too forward of me to say?” He confessed looking you in the eyes.

As you met his gaze, could see the honesty in his eyes. You set your glass of wine down, and got up, to walk over to the fridge. You reached in and pulled out 2 beers.

“Drinking wine doesn’t quite feel right for the current mood,” You lamely joked handing him one of them.

He chuckled softly and murmured in agreement.

“I lost my dog a month ago… Old age. Passed away in his sleep. ‘Best way for a pet to go’ as I’ve been told by everyone. Never really knew just how quiet this place can get without him. Thought about getting another to fill the void but I don’t know… None quite measure up I guess,” You told him before taking a swig of beer wincing slightly at taste of it mixing with the wine.

“I was about to ask, I remember you talking about him a lot,” He said with a nod.

“I know it’s silly, to not want to spend a holiday alone when your usual company was a dog-” You began to explain before he cut you off.

“It’s not silly to me. Now, I’m not quite sure who put that in ya head, but he was yer family. Just because he was a pet, doesn’t invalidate that or your grief,” He began, his hand gently brushing against your cheek. “I’m just… happy that ya asked me to come be with you.”

You smiled in appreciation, your hand reaching up to touch his as you leaned your cheek into it.

He slowly moved forward, his eyes glancing between yours and your lips, silently asking for permission. His lips slowly met yours a moment after you nodded your once. You kissed back just as hesitantly. His hand at your cheek, slowly slid into your hair bring you closer.

The kiss was slow but with each second that passed, the both of you gained more confidence. The kiss became deeper and more passionate. Your hands slid around his neck, slowly burying themselves into his hair. His other hand was fiddling with the hem of your shirt, brushing against the skin he found there.

The only reason why either of you pulled away was to suck in some much-needed air as you felt your lungs burn a little.  You wanted to go back for more, but the kitchen timer was going off, signaling the ham was done. The both of you chuckle as you took in the state of each other: lips swollen, hair a mess.

You quietly stood up to go take the ham out of the oven. The both of you fixed up a plate, and began to watch a few Christmas movies, curling up next to each on the couch. You were about halfway through the Nightmare Before Christmas when you paused it to put your plates into the sink.

“Before we continue… I.. I got you something,” You said to him walking over to your tree.

You picked up a small box that you had labelled as “Whiskey.”

The both of you returned to the couch, as you handed him the present.

He opened it stating, “I didn’t get you anything. Now I feel a bit bad ‘bout that”

As he opened the box to reveal a watch his breath caught. He looked at it and then slowly turned his wrist to look at the watch he had on. It was almost identical to the one he wore now, just silver instead of gold.

He pulled it out gently, examining it. What really got him was when he saw the engraving at the back. It had his name… and the name of his wife.

His gaze turned to you in confused amazement.

“I’ve seen you prepare for missions a lot, and when I first started, I was one of the people who had to lock up personal items when the mission called for extreme discretion. I noticed on your watch it had a name on it. I didn’t know who she was, but I figured she had to be pretty important to you. You mentioned a while back that it broke, and no one’s been able to repair it. So, I tried to find one that looked similarly,” You explained biting your lip.

He looked at you for a moment longer, before turning back to the watch. He gently set the watch back into its box.

You opened your mouth to apologize when he stopped you… by pulling you into a kiss. The kiss was brief but passionate.

“Thank you, darlin’. That’s… that’s the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a long while,” He whispered against your lips, as he reached up to wipe away a tear that had escaped.

“You’re welcome. I was hoping you’d like it. I was worried you’d hate it,” You admitted.

“You worry too much. You need to stop worryin’ about upsettin’ everyone all the time. You are one of the best agents we have, and everyone adores you,” He assured you, kissing you again and pulling you into his arms.

You smiled sheepishly at that and nodded. You curled back into his side, and he held you as close as possible. You continued to watch movies until you fell asleep, feeling safe and warm next to him.

As morning came and you slowly woke up on the couch, a blanket covering you. As you sat up, looking around, you realized you were alone. You got up looking around trying to see if he left a note.

As you walked toward the kitchen to your phone, you realized that it had been cleaned up. He had put away and saved the food that had been left out.

She checked her phone and saw that there was one message waiting for her.

‘Needed to go do some things. Merry Christmas, beautiful. If it’s alright, I’d like to see you again tonight?’ -Whiskey

You sent a quick response back, ‘I would love to see you tonight! Merry Christmas!’

The rest of the day you went and hung out with some friends for Christmas and did gift exchanges. When you finally came back home, it was late in the day. You set the presents down and freshened up really quick before Whiskey arrived.

It didn’t take very long before you heard a knock on the door; perfectly timed since you had just finished cleaning up. You could feel yourself get excited at the thought of seeing Whiskey again. You walked over to the door to see Whiskey standing there with a large box in his arms, that was brightly colored.

You stared at him, slightly confused at the box. It was as you stared at it that you noticed a shimmer of silver. He had put on the watch.

“Hey darlin’. So. Funny story. I went out planning to ask a friend a question… when I saw something in an alleyway,” He began to explain hesitantly.

He slowly lifted the lid off to reveal a puppy. “He was alone. Took him to my friend who works with a shelter and had one of those fancy scanner things that checks for microchips. Found none. When I told him where I found this lil guy, they said it’s a common place for people to dump pets.”

You stared at the puppy wide-eyed, vaguely aware of what Whiskey was saying to you. The puppy gave a small bark, and his tail wagged excitedly. You could feel your heart melting as you stared at him. You could feel your eyes swelling up with tears.

You slowly reached forward, holding your hand out to his face to sniff. He sniffed it once and then began to lick your hand several times, causing you to choke out a laugh. You then picked up out of the box and held him close to you.

He gave you several kisses before snuggling into your arms.

“I uh… I think I’m gonna have to keep him,” You said tearily as you held him.

“Those are happy tears, right?” He asked nervously.

“Yes. Very happy,” You answered with a laugh, moving back to let him in.

“I had planned on just askin’ my friend about any available dogs for you, thinkin’ maybe we could go find you one tomorrow when the shelter was open. Then I just found him on my way over. I ain’t a big believer in fate but…” He trailed off smiling as he watched you.

“You wanted to take me on a date to find a puppy?” She asked setting the puppy down to let him explore.

“Yes ma’am. I did indeed,” He replied stepping toward her. “Now, however, I think it’s gonna be a get supplies for the little rascal kind of date.”

“I’m good with that, but uhh…  I do believe that I need to kiss you right now,” You said with moving closer to him.

“Oh? Is that right? Well then... please don’t let me stop you,” He drawled as his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you in as close as he could.

You giggled in response as you kissed him slowly and thoroughly, your arms around his neck. He kissed back, his arms lifting you slightly off your feet.

You broke apart when you heard a little bark at your feet. The both of you looked down to see the puppy staring up at the two of you, tilting his head.

You reached down and picked him up and as you held him, you looked at Whiskey who was smiling brightly at you.

“Not gonna lie, honey. This has probably been one of the better Christmases I’ve had in a long time,” He said fondly.

“Same here. Maybe uhh… when the holidays are over, we could go on some proper dates?” You proposed.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot,” He remarked pressing a kiss to your lips, before giving a small kiss to the puppy’s forehead.

You smiled and as the two of you spent the rest of the evening together, the both of you realized something. This wasn’t what you were expecting for Christmas at all, but neither of them will ever complain. This was a Christmas to remember.

[jaywrites101]

Five-Star Reviews Suck (And they blame you for doing reviews wrong.)

Tonight on Thoughts that Keep Me Awake in Existential Horror, Amazon and Google's rating systems are killing your puppies.

As someone whose job is to review various creative projects and work with creators to improve them, I can say with absolute certainty that no one should ever review things unless it is their job. Now, I could very easily write an entire essay twice the size of this one to back that claim up, but tonight I have an even bigger fish to fry. So if you take affront to that claim, stick around; I'll get to it eventually.

No, tonight I'm breaking down the Five-Star Review. What it is, what it means, why EVERYONE is using it wrong, and how the companies who implement these rating systems blame you for its failings.

Let's start with what the Five-Star review is. And the most important fact to know going in is that Five-Star Restaurants are a globally recognized symbol of excellence, and the companies asking you to leave Five-Star Reviews deliberately want you to mix these two up. They want you, the reader/consumer to think:

Five Stars = Unrivaled excellence.

But that's not what the Five-Star Review is. At its most basic, the Five-Star Review is one of those questions you see all the time in surveys where you pick one of five:

[Strongly Disagree] [Disagree] [Neutral] [Agree] [Strongly Agree]

They do this for two reasons. 1) This system is simple and anyone can understand it. 2) If you take the average of 100 reviews, you get a number that feels predictive. More on that later.

This system is not a review. It is a rating. And it is also officially called a review. But, and I cannot stress this enough, it is not a review!

A Review is a system in which one person breaks down the product or service they have used and provides targeted feedback to the creator or fellow users about the pros and cons of this product or service.

Literal Definition according to Google:

a formal assessment or examination of something with the possibility or intention of instituting change if necessary. a critical appraisal of a book, play, movie, exhibition, etc., published in a newspaper or magazine

A Rating is a generalized statement about a product or service to determine if said product or service is adequate for its promotion.

Literal Definition according to Google:

a classification or ranking of someone or something based on a comparative assessment of their quality, standard, or performance. the value of a property or condition that is claimed to be standard, optimal, or limiting for a substance, material, or item of equipment.

One of these things is to provide a flexible analysis, the other is to determine the value of a thing.

Companies want YOU to treat the Five-Star Review as a review. But internally they treat the Five-Star Review as a rating.

So why does this matter? So the two biggest companies on Earth got the definitions of Review and Rating mixed up, big deal, right? There's certainly no possible way this affects your life. Right??? Keep reading, they didn't get these definitions mixed up. They mixed it up deliberately. And they do this as a measure to screw every body out of every thing.

Once again, this comes back to you, the consumer. You see a Five-Star Review and it leaves you with opinions. Even though the "Review" is not actually telling you anything of value. Experts comment on this all the time. Five categories are just too narrow of a field to get an accurate assessment out of anything. That's why most legitimate review sites leave a rating out of 10, or even 100. Five... five just oversimplifies everything. And the problem with oversimplification is that it sweeps a lot of sins under a big 'ol rug.

People fall through the cracks in a Five-Star system. Lots of people are miscategorized, undervalued, and barred from receiving the benefits they deserve.

Remember when I said that the Five-Star Review feels like it gives a number that's predictive? Turns out, that's not how numbers work. In most things when you average together massive amounts of numbers, you end up with numbers that support the trend. (I'm not a math guy, so these are my generalizations.) But with the Five-Star Review the more numbers you get, the closer to 3 it becomes. To break it down into even less math: if enough people say "Thing Good," the reviews show the thing is indeed good. But with the Five-Star Review, the more people who rate and leave ratings; the more average your product appears.

This is because the companies are selling the Five-Star Review as a review but treating it as a rating.

Now let's talk about you, the consumer who leaves reviews and the consumer who reads the ratings.

Picture this, you bought something on Amazon, and now you're leaving a review of the product. You give it four stars because it was pretty good, but not flawless-

Already you are being too critical.

If you give a product three stars out of five; that means it was an average product. This statement would prolly surprise many of you. Because we've been conditioned to think of the Five-Star Review as a review whose stars are awarded depending on excellence, no review is supposed to be a sign of an average product. So how do you tell people the product is bad? You leave a critical comment telling people the product was bad.

Anyone who's ever sold a book online will tell you otherwise. Comments, no matter how bad, are considered positive by the algorithm. The Five-Star Review system favors large numbers over nothing. One hundred One-Star Reviews will far outweigh any product that has twenty Five-Stars Reviews. Even though anyone who looks at these statistics should clearly see that they are equal.

And when you look at a product that has an average review of fewer than four ratings, you dismiss it out of hand.

But the more ratings a product has, the closer to three its ratings will become.

Don't get me wrong, plenty of bad sellers has used this to their advantage. Some writers who were just terrible make use of this system to look average. It favors them.

But if you're just starting out, you are already going to get crushed by the algorithm. And then, when people don't leave reviews because your product was averagely good; you suffer. And then, after struggling to get reviews, people leave reviews that are less than five stars; you suffer. And the more rating you get; the more you suffer.

This, despite what it may seem, is the system working perfectly. Because it's tricking you into believing that it's an effective system for weeding out low-quality products while stifling anyone trying to use it.

Anyway, this has been my rant. Thank you for coming to my Ted talk. Like and Reblog and all that. 'Night.

[popculturebuffet]

Simpsons Review: Simpsons Comics #102 “Uncle Burn$” or Homercore Nudity!

Whelp out of all the commissions Kev has thrown me this one’s kind of a curveball. I mean it makes sense why cover it: It’s a pastiche of Donald Duck Comics done in the pages of the Simpsons long running comics. I cover duck stuff on here, and not only do I love the Simpsons but I tend to reference it for jokes a LOT. I just genuinely never thought of reviewing it till now, likely because earlier on in my new career of reviewing animated shows, I wasn’t really convinced I could do pure comedies. With my regular reviews of Darkwing Duck and as it comes out coverage of the Loud House (I still need to get around to Band Together), that’s no longer a real issue and I should consider doing the show in the future, especially since I have an unabashed love for the first 10 seasons and a few episodes beyond that. 

As you can tell, I love the Simpsons. While I do genuinely wish it would end and have no real intrest in the current seasons, though if you’d like me to take a look i’d be willing to. The show in it’s prime was funny, witty and each episode was crammed with jokes. And refreshingly for an adult cartoon show of it’s time,  the show genuinely wasn’t afraid to mix things up: Milhouse’s parents divorced and stayed that way for so long that them apparently getting back together decades later is itself a huge status quo shake up.  Lisa went Vegetarian which stuck thanks to sir paul mcartney, and then went Buddhist, both of which have never wavered since and both fit her well. Skinner and Krabbable started dating. Barney went sober for a few seasons. Apu got married. These are minor changes but the show does have things happen occasionally and doesn’t just snap everything back and it adds genuine tension to plots knowing they might stay the status quo They usually don’t but the occasional change gives things stakes. I could go on for days, but I couldn’t go on for 8 weeks, point is the Simpsons are awesome, and deserve the praise they get early on I just wish they’d stop as by this point people really have stopped carring and it’s time to pass the torch and Let Bob’s burgers be the wholesome family comedy that runs forever.. and even then that one should stop at 10 seasons. Or if not at least let the kids age dammit.  But that aside, while many of you simpsons fans looking at this probably have at least seen the comics, or a collection of them over the decades, many of you like me are wondering what the hell Bongo Comics is and how they managed to last so long. Bongo was founded by Simpsons Creator Matt Groening in 1993. Matt Groening had noticed that at the time there just weren’t any funny books on the shelves, funny books being comedy based comics primarily targeted for kids, with Archie and Disney being really the only ones left at the time. So he founded Bongo to rectify that, and given Fox naturally liked the sound of more merchandising dollars, the publisher was primarily used to produce simpsons comics, though looking at wikipedia there were one or two that weren’t including, of all things, a Coldplay comic tying into their album. Why did Coldplay publish a comic book at a primarily simpsons comic book company?

Though most series seem to be either short lived or one shots, there were a few exceptions: Naturally the company put out an annual Treehouse of Horror issue, there was a Bart Simpson ongoing focusing on him and the other kids of Springfield, I had a trade for that one once, and once Futurama premiered it too got a comic book that held through both cancelations. But standing above them all was Simpsons Comics, a 245 issue long runner that ran all the way up to the company’s closing, likely due to a combination of a lack of profits and the then upcoming Disney-Fox merger depriving them of the very heart and soul of the company. 

Naturally being a Simpsons fan I have a connection to these comics having gotten the trades out of the library multiple times as well as the collection of Bartman’s solo series, which was my favorite and I might cover some day. In addition to the Free Comic Book Day issues i also picked up scattered issues over my life since, much like Archie, Simpsons comics were a mainstay of bookstores and super markets and the decline of both comic markets is likely why the Simpsons comics started to peter out in the first place. The quality and memorability of the stories varied but they were a fun thing to have around and it’s sad to see them go, as well as see Disney not even make a remote attempt to bring them back or at the very least republish the vast library they now have access to. Also finally if your wondering yes, there indeed was a Simpsons/Futurama crossover. And no I have not read it.  So with that history, most of which I just learned some of which I already knew, in mind, it is very fitting the comic’s did a tribute to the Uncle Scrooge comics. Though it does feel very weird that I have yet to cover any Donald Duck or Scrooge comics.. yet i’ve already covered one of the Ducktales tie in comics and a Simpsons homage to it. I’m going to have to correct that but until then, join me under the cut as I dive into adventure with the Simpsons. 

This issue was written by Ian Boothby and drawn by John Delaney, I feel mentiong the writers and artists should be important in comic reviews and I kick myself for not having done that or gone into them as much before. Boothby was apparently the Ian Flynn of these comics, writing more simpsons comics than any other writer according to wikipedia and winning an Eisner for his work on the comic if sadly not this issue. He was nominated for an outstanding Canadian Writer award for it though so that’s good. Point is the guy is a decorated vetran of this series and it shows in how good this issue is and I felt he deserved some recognition as most Comic Book Readers, myself included up till now, likely weren’t aware he even existed nor took over the comic in the 2000′s. 

We open with Burns getting attacked by a mummy! Gotta say wasn’t expecting this as where we started out but the simpsons have started with wonkier premises to end up somewhere. I mean there was the time a bag boy strike ended up with them in Africa. Also i’d say Burns should call the police, being the kind of privileged white guy they actually care about protecting and all, but frankly the Springfield Cops don’t have the best track records with Mummies:

But no it’s just Smithers, who dove in heroically to save the company 15 dollars after Homer took a bet to see how many fire crackers he could jam in his computer’s disk drive. Lenny said 20 but he proved him wrong. And yes those are all actual jokes from the comic, this issue is very funny and feels very much like a Golden Age Simpsons episode. They also all gather to sign Smither’s cast.. which naturally is a legally binding contract.  Burns takes his loyal minion to get some quality medical care only to find an arcade because he traded the Medical Bay in for one during an outbreak of Pac Man Fever... again I really can’t top that and there may be a good reason why I haven’t covered the Simpsons till now. But yeah as Buns gives Smithers a roll of Pennies, he wonders who to have replace Smither’s on their annual summer treasure hunt.. which would come out of nowhere but we genuinely don’t know what they do most summers. I assumed Burns just road Smithers like a horse to play cricket while Smithers enjoyed it way too much. But a stray comment from Homer getting a Krusty Doll from a crane machine about being king of the treasure hunters leads to this. 

I mean it’s an easy joke but damn if it didn’t get a laugh out of me. So later at the old Simpsons place, because this comic is fantastic, Marge and Homer talk things over, but Homer insists Burns said he’d split the treasure, and Lisa wishes she could come along. And Marge says he should, especially for his own saftey.. and when Bart complains, says all the kids should go, she already packed their bags, she’s heading to Rancho Relaxo byyyyeeeeeee. Once again, this comic is amazing, and I would say this is out of character for Marge, but frankly that’s the whole point. Plus it really isn’t when she has to deal with 4 children on a regular basis, and her sisters, and a town gone mad.. yeah can’t blame her here. 

The next day at Burns Office, Homer is wearing his navy outfit.. or rather Donald’s Navy outfit. But given I did a quick google and found him having at least 4 different outfits during his time in the Naval Reserves, it’s not a stretch to assume the Simpsons Version of the Navy gave these out too. Seriously Ian Boothby has put more thought into continuity than most writers on the show proper. Also Simpsons Tide, season 9 episode, still very memorable and hilarious and not due to childhood nostalgia. Just looking up this bit had me laughing hard. 

I now  want to watch that episode sometime soon so thanks Kev. Anyway Homer seems to have misplaced his plants. Now I could spare you the image since I don’t do things panel by panel anymore and only use panels from a comic when relevant. Buttttt

This traumatizing of my audience brings me to a point about this issue and why it works. While there are tons of nods to the Donald Duck comics and what their homaging is very clear, the issue doesn’t REQUIRE you know them to enjoy it.  Knowing them I obviously enjoy it more, but most of the jokes aren’t reliant on you knowing anything about the barks comics and even someone with a passing knowledge of  the Original Ducktales can still get the reference if not why Donald is here. It helps this is less of a parody, with the exception of some jokes, and more of an homage, using stylistic elements of those comics while telling i’ts own story as a loving tribute to it’s predecessors. Speaking of one of those jokes poking fun at the source material, Burns is delighted Homer brought child labor, which kept me laughing for a good minute, and when the kids introduce themselves we get this bit. 

Not only am I 100% sure every version of Donald or Della did this to make sure they could tell them apart, very much including the reboot with Donald, but it’s a genuine hilarious bit. Donald’s response as they head off is “there’s somehting hooey Dewey and screwy about this. “ Also I will criticize the fact Bart isn’t the one wearing a blue outfit. For those wondering why, after all Maggie wears blue shouldn’t she get it, who haven’t seen this a LOT of merchandise early on had Bart in a blue shirt, due to early Merch being rushed out pre-show and since he wore one in some earlier concept art, he got to wear blue. He also wore it late into the 90′s. 

Sidebar: I just found this and while it isn’t a bad joke given his character it is  questionable to have a fourth grade boy tell you to buy him. Just saying. But the reason I bring it up is partly because the show itself referenced it at one point. 

As well as it’s sister show Futurama

And you remeber that Bart Simpson solo I mentioned? That one frequently, both in and out of story, had Blue Shirt bart show up for some variety. 

Also why yes each issue does have it’s own fun “Superman’s Pal Jimmy Oleson” Esque subtitle. And I love it so. Point is Blue Bart is part of the series legacy and this very comic company, so it’s VERY weird to not have that here. That being said there were  a few Green Shirt barts apparently as a printing error, so he could just as easily be 80 steps ahead of me. I just don’t know. 

Back at the plot Burns and the Simpsons show up at Frink’s lab, Frink rather obviously filling in for Gyro, with his own version of little bulb named F.L.O. who gladly shakes Lisa’s hand.. and releases a Pterodactyl but hey you can’t win em all. It’s a nice nod, though one only fans of the source matieral will really get, but the pterodactyl bit right after helps distract from it. Frink slotts into the roll well, as Frink has no reall affiliation with anyone and is basically, much like Gyro, there for various characters to go too when the story or joke needs him. Frink has two gadgets for them: Some Scuba suits that can go to any depth and a grappling claw that accidently gets him gripped to the pterodactyl. Also homer accidently switches suits with maggie, so we get an adorable shot of her serenely sleeping in a diving helmet while her daddy chokes to death. 

So the next day it’s out to the open seas where The Simpsons are doing all the work while Burns lounges.. which yeah this is a typical uncle scrooge adventure all right. While the man unlike Burns does work hard and do things for himself, he spent most voyages talking about the destination while putting all the hard work on Donald, in case you thought there was at least one universe where Donald isn’t miserable most of the time. Lisa wonders what he’s doing and we get this lovely bit. 

I just.. can’t stop finding that hilarious or a nice way to get the Uncle Scrooge bit in there while still fitting the Simpsons, and it at least explains what happened to Herb, whose been mentioned all of once in the 30 seasons since he last showed up. I checked. And yes for those unaware, which is fair, or who just now remembered Homer does indeed have a brother, one his dad had out of an affair who showed up twice, once with Homer unintentionally, and largely due to Herb’s own foolishness, ruining his life, the other time with Maggie helping him get back on top and him and Homer reconciling. He’s also voiced by comedic legend and your friend and mine, Danny Devito, whose still making us all laugh to this day and is a wonderful person from all accounts. Rock on Danny, here’s the only way I can think to honor you. 

But yeah it’s a good gag. Burns claims to be watching for a Giant Squid.. and turns out to be right. So it’s up to the simpsons to fight the giant squid, a sentence I genuinely didn’t expect.. I thought like the Griffins they’d just ignore it. 

I miss that show.. oh i’m aware Family Guy is still running but much like the Simpsons the show it USED to be is long gone. Anyways Bart tells a worried homer octopus suck out the innards and drink it first quipping “It’s not like you haven’t been drunk in the morning before homer. Homer chokes bart only for the squid to choke him which is easily the second best “Homer getting choked after Choking bart” gag i’ve seen.. the best being this one I found on youtube. 

Though personally my faviorite part of that whole bit is Bart’s proud “THAT’S BECAUSE I SOAKED HIM IN SLIME!” Anyways Lisa figures out a way to beat the squid, painting the likeness of each of them on it’s tentacles and letting the thing devour itself. Lisa lampshades it making no sense PHysics wise but with that she reluctantly accepts calling Mr. Burns, Uncle Burns and we’re off to our next location.  Next up is Mt. Donrosa, a very clear nod to Uncle Scrooge maestro Keno “Don” Rosa, an avid fan of Barks work who expanded on it and turned it into a solid continuity, most famously, and what got me into the ducks in the first place, with the epic “Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck” which I proudly own and.. well I did say watch this space didn’t I?  Enough hinting at the future as the Simpsons scale the mountain with Homer carrying burns up on a rickshaw. Burns however looses his lucky #1 penny, SUBTLE, and cuts Bart down to get it. We then get the best line of the issue:

Bart thankfully survives and we find out the Penny, much like Scrooge’s Dime is how Burns started his fortune.. for this issue and nowhere else but that’s standard for the Simpsons. Specifically loading it into a gun and threatning to kill Jasper’s grandfather with it during the gold rush, a nice twist. At the top of the mountain they find the fabled key of Strobl, which comes from the Taliaferro tribe.. more refrenes this time though I didn’t know them and had to google. Tony Strobl was an artist on the Duck Comics at one ponit  and Al Taliforino id forgotten about. He did the Donald Duck comic strip which I had heard of and weirdly hasn’t been collected yet despite Fantagraphics covering mickey, as well as reprinting barks and rosa’s respective works. 

The key is suspended in the air by what Lisa suspects to be magnetics, and while Burns plan is naturally “Have Bart swim in it and see if he surivives”, Bart, still pissed from the penny and not wanting to die today, grabs the Penny and uses his slingshot to fire it at the Key. The bad luck from the penny casues an erruption, but Bart once again saves the day and has them surf down, with naturally tons more great jokes.  The family enjoys some steamed Seafood, except Lisa whose eating Seaweed, while Homer enjoys a sting ray “It tastes as good as it stings, Ow, Ow.” ON to Goddfrodson Trench, an odd choice given Floyd Goddfrodson was barks equivalent for the Mickey Mouse Comics and not really a duck writer, but he still deserves the honor regardless.  Under the Sea, no accusations just friendly crustaceans here.. our heroes are close to the treasure but loose the map to the Jailbird Boys, aka Snake and his cousins, who found out due to Lisa’s blog. She didn’t want to loose any more readers to Sheri and Teri’s Olson Twin’s Fan Page.. which.. it’s 2004.. weren’t they dead by this point? Nope still alive? Still are today in fact? Alrighty then. Also this bit, and some of the other references are a bit heavy handed, I will admit that, but the jokes are high quality enough otherwise that it just comes off as a bit of an adorable wink more than laziness. 

Snake and co cut their air with Starfish used as throwing stars. 

The gang tie their air suplies to avoid dying, and Maggie, in a clever bit, talks with the starfish, since they communicate via sucking, to attack the Jailbird Boys. Again.. 

I genuinely don’t know, but our heroes find the fabled vault of Barks Billion.. named after Bark Barks, that polar bear from the sonic games.. no of course it’s named after Disney Duck God Carl Barks, who created the Duck’s share of Donald and Scrooge’s supporting cast: Uncle Scrooge himself, Daisy Duck, a fact I just learned but given he created her first short “Mr Duck Steps Out, shouldn’t of surprised me, The Beagle Boys, Magica DeSpell, Goldie O Gilt, Flintheart Glomgold, Gyro Gearloose, Gladstone Gander, The Junior Woodchucks as a whole, Neighbor Jones, John D. Rockerduck, The Number One Dime, Gus Goose, April, May, June and Whitewater Duck. Just the sheer impact he’s had on the comics on all continents cannot be overstated. He is also the one who refined Huey Dewey and Louie from hellraising little shits to the good little boys they are today.. well okay they were, thankfully the reboot has created much better versions. Point is what a man, what a man what a mighty good man, he is truly missed.  We get two great homer gags in the same page, one where somehow he’s put the giant key on a key ring and still can’t find it.. with Bart helpfully taking it from him, and then we get this, which I missed on my first read through. 

Naturally Burns betrays them, using a Gold Magnet, kay, to suck up all the gold and naturally planning to leave the Simpsons for dead to no one’s surprise. But thanks to Bart teaching Maggie how to use the spittoons, Homer gets one stuck on his head.. and starts getting sucked up with the Simpsons using them to escape. Naturally Lisa’s first instinct is obvious. 

But Burns weasels his way out by promising them free gold after their free lunch. Naturally the next day this turns out ot be a trick as their lunch came from frinks and thus, for now, their weightless.. but Karma gets Burns when he tries swimming in his new gold vault... only for the natural result of what happens when am an who never exercises and who doctors once described as having so many diseases packed into his body at once they tripped each other off and that a strong wind could kill him, trying to do with a similarly aged but still physically fit and well trained at swimming in money man does on a daily basis. 

We then close on a quick gag of weightless homer getting caught on fire and we’re out. 

Final Thoughts:  This was a really excellent comic. It captured the tone of the Simpsons at their best and while stiff in a place here or there, it’s mostly just really funny, entertaining and a nice and warm tribute to Donald and Scrooge’s long comics history, not really mocking it but instead just homaging it, while still throughly feeling like the Simpsons. It honestly feels like the Treehouse of Horor Segement on the shining, a bit that parodies something, but for the most part the jokes still feel firmly rooted in the simpsons and their cast. This was a treat to review and i’m glad Kev comissoned it and I may take a look at more Simpsons in the future. If you guys like this review, you can follow me on patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet, or if  there’s a specific simpsons or ducktales episode or a specific comic you want me to review, you can comission your own review for just five bucks. Just send me a direct message on here through Tumblr, or take a look at my ask box or submit. However you want to do it. I take payments through paypal and until next time: Happy Days are Here Again. 

[doomedandstoned]

Gangrened Conjure Dizzying Atmosphere in ‘Deadly Algorithm’

~Review by Billy Goate~

Before us lies an enigma called 'Deadly Algorithm' (2021) by Finnish band GANGRENED, whom we've introduced you to before, when they dropped that wonderfully dreary doomer 'We Are Nothing' (2014). Let me share with you the diary of my thoughts as I immersed myself in their recently released full-length.

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

Deadly Algorithm starts with gentle, quiet picking that echoes faintly, but already surrounds us with a strange, if inviting, airspace. A melodic line develops as "Harrbåda" gains volume, building it seems towards a crescendo -- then suddenly stopping as a drumroll interrupts. The atmosphere returns to quirks and quarks, increasingly distorted notes, spikes of reverberating rhythm. All the while, the same short impermanent melodic motif makes its statement, until it flitters away into the void.

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

"Triptaani" makes a strong entrance, this time with galled vocal attack and a slow, but strong, guitar lead girded by the fuzz-sparked gears of bass and drum languidly moving this machine along. A hail of shredding follows, with cymbals crashing to a throbbing beat, leading to one ardent chord laid upon another. Eventually the pace slows to a crawl, with dissonant harmonies, and a wild solo from Jon Imbernon that's almost overcome by the industrial crunch of Lassi Männikkö's dumming, Joakim Udd's vile spew of noise, Mikko Mannistö's declamatory singing.

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

"Hologrammi" features more familiar doom pacing with a searing riffage, a slow burn flow of bass and drums, and clean (but pissed off) crooning. It's surrounded by a mesmerizing jumble of pedal effects, noise, downtuned instrumental buzz, and crackling amps -- of which make its climactic moment of vocal delivery emphatic and powerful.

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

Intricate guitar trilling action introduces “Kuningatar” and it sounds almost like temelos dancing upon its appointed harmonic scale in those opening moments. By the time the rest of the crew sounds off, it turns into a frightening ensemble, indeed. I imagine this would be quite chilling to experience in a live setting. While the vocals feel swallowed up in the great reverberating wall of sound, it seems to add to the mystique of the whole dim sound environment. Psychedelic noodling returns six minutes and if you listen carefully you can hear a seething malediction pronounced sternly beneath the fray of scattered noise, synth, and pedal effects. Great doom returns to ground us to reality and the band improvises a swirl of activity that makes me think of the wandering spirits released from the Ark of the Covenant in Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

”Triangeli” grabs hold of us with a rumbling bass line that establishes the song’s basic theme, soon to be reinforced by guitar. Meanwhile, words are spoken with accented cymbals and hypnotic drumming. The song ends with whispered lyrics uttered over a soundgarden of riffage, soft cymbals, omnipotent bass rumble, and the cycling sounds of amp feedback. I don't know the words, and the singer refuses to share them, so that means what he's singing is left up to your fertile imagination. Or you can just enjoy the vocal aesthetic and what it contributes to this dense, dark atmosphere.

A cathartic journey, indeed, which I ventured on while I was in an especially discouraged and pissed off mood. Even though I understood not its words, I felt its sentiment and it was in some way cleansing. Available digitally, on vinyl and compact disc as an independent release (order here).

Interviewing Gangrened Guitarist Jon Imbernon

By Billy Goate

You've been a band for quite a while. I understand you are one of the founding members, too. How did Gangrened form to begin with?

Well, we were a bunch of guys living in the same area around ostrobotnia, between kokkola and new karleby, here in the center west coast of finland. so few of us had the idea to do the band so we asked the others, but none of those guys except me are still in the band. high level of mobility because studies in this area of small towns, to bigger cities of Finland.

It sounds like there are challenges keeping a band together in Ostrobotnia? I imagine it makes it ver5y challenging to get new band members to replace the old. Is there much of a music scene to speak of?

Yeah, actually I'm not from here myself. I'm Basque/Spanish and in the specific area I live, like around 110 kilometers or so, there's no real bands or scene, but if you go forward you reach Oulu in the north or Seinajoki, bigger cities with more bands and such. And yes, from the exact spot I live now, I have needed to look more than 100 kms to find new members. I'm moving in a near future to Tampere, so that should help in strengthening the line-up.

So how long has the most recent crew of Gangrened been together?

Since May of 2015, just after some dates we played with Bongzilla in Finland, the entire line-up shifted.

Gangrened basically means "gangrene" right?

It's like "corrupted," you know? Yes, the name comes from the illness.

My grandfather's big toe got infected from a cut because he didn't treat it properly. When he finally went to a doctor, they told him he would have to amputate his foot to live. He refused, stating he wanted to die with both of his feet on. So he officially died of gangrene!

Ouch! Okay...

Did you pick Gangrened for any special reason, like the corruption of society or something like that?

Yeah, that kind of reason. I wanted some grimmy name, but actually now it's getting a bit inappropriate, as we are not so typically doom sludge anymore.

How would you describe/characterize your sound now?

Well, I would say it is deep and varied. Actually, I think this record is like transitional, just because, for example, one song "Hologrammi" is an old song we included. But newer stuff goes beyond what has been previously recorded, take songs like "Triangeli" or "Kuningatar."

Deadly Algorithm by Gangrened

We reviewed 'We Are Nothing' back in 2014, and at the time we described your sound in terms of: "Slow, behemoth sized riffs. Excessive feedback. Fuzz worship." What would you say has changed or is different now, as your sound, style, and general musical approach has evolved?

Well, at some point, just as an exercise of abstraction to what we were doing, how it was turning out with songs like "Triangeli" or "Kuningatar" I decided to look into my whole musical background, and keep on adding elements from it. Also I got bored of the regular sludge-doom thing. So I considered it more interesting, and more comfortable to me, to keep an essence of slow and heavy music, and atmospheric at times, but not so defined inside the regular sludge-doom thing. The atmosphere feels very trippy, even psychedelic at times.

Let's talk about the new album. Why is it called 'Deadly Algorithm'? I think about 10 years ago, I never used the word "algorithm," but now it's a common word that most people at least understand in concept.

Well, I'm studying now in the university again, engineering in information technology, and at same time i'm a person a lot with strong progressive values, so through my studies and also digging on related topics like online privacy or the evolution and development of the new technologies I found alarming how the new technologies are going and its implications.

There are several key things that many people do not think about: smart phones have like six sensors on average to spot your location, plus no company gives services for free. If so, it's because the product is the user of the service. There's no other reason for that. So beginning with these facts, there are a lot of things going on that everyone should be aware of, and the album theme is all about that. Nowadays, data algorithms are making more and more decisions in our lives that no more take into account true needs as humans.

It seems like we have created our own virtual prison, without even realizing it.

Yes, but the thing is who runs the prison? not ourselves at all.

Getting into the songs themselves, are they all sung in Finnish?

Yes. At first some were in english but then the singer decided to sing all songs in Finnish.

Starting with the first song, can you tell us what each title means and what themes you explore?

The first song ("Harrbåda") is simply the name of a coastal area around here. The second ("Triptaani") is a medicine for headaches. The third song ("Hologrammi") is named obviously after a hologram. The fourth ("Kuningatar") means "Queen" and the last ("Triangeli") is "triangle."

Is there any conceptual, thematic, or spiritual relationship between these tracks?

It's quite a personal thing to the singer, he wrote the lyrics and I can't exactly tell you their meaning because Mikko Mannistö is a bit secretive about it. But personal things, yes. Personal matters to him.

Tell us a little bit about the recording process. Where did you record, with whom, and are there any memories that stand out from that time?

Well, we started recording the record in june 2018, with a friend of the singer, at some big rooms in a youth center house. We did most of the recordings with him until February of 2019. At that time, we asked a few people to mix, master, and finish the process. but nothing worked and there was some time wasted waiting for answers.

I decided moving forward we would go with someone who is recording records all the time and known by us, so we asked Tom Brooke, an English guy who lives close to Jyväskylä, runs a studio, and is the live sound technician for Oranssi Pazuzu. So we finished the record, a few more guitar tracks, mixing, and mastering with him.

I remember there was a long time between sessions, so new ideas were constantly coming to us to add to the songs for the next session. That’s why some guitar tracks were added for mixing just the day before starting to mix.

I'm sure you were relieved once all the recording, mixing, and mastering was finally done!

Yeah ! like this is the record and now its totally defined and wrapped up. As a guitarist, what can you tell us about the guitar writing on the new album? Anything that you are especially proud of or that you think the listener should pay special attention to?

The intro is all played by me, and then the weirdest stuff, noisy guitar here and there, and the first half of riffs of triptaani , i'm quite proud of the first two or three riffs, and I used to be proud about some riffs in the middle of "hologrammi." The noisiest and more psyched out guitars of kuningatar.

Tell us about what you, as a guitarist, used in the studio while recording 'Deadly Algorithm'

Well, so I used three guitars to record the album: one Gibson SG Standard from the late '90s, another SG Standard from 1980, and a Gibson Les Paul Classic from around 1991. The SG from the late '90s was ultra-modded -- I changed the finish, pickups, electronics, tuners, but in the end sold it and now it's owned by David from Slomatics. The 1980 I just bought for the recording, so it was all stock. Later, I changed the pickups. The Gibson Les Paul also had all replaced tuners, circuit pickups, and so. It's my main guitar and I used it in most of the songs. The SGs I just used for "Triangeli," the last song.

About effects, I use a Big Muff Fuzz mainly, but also a custom Dunwich Amps FuzzThrone for the ultra heavy parts, like at the end of "Kuningatar." Other effects I used were the Dunlop Echoplex pedal and the Strymon Capistan. I love tape echo sounds and these pedals emulate it. Also, another effect I really like and couldn't live without is the Earthquaker Devices Transmisser. I used it in three of the songs.

Amps used included an '80s Laney AOR Pro Tube and Orange OR120 from 1975 and a late '70s Matamp GT120. Every rhythm guitar track was recorded with two of them at same time, mainly the Matamp and the Laney. That probably is the main sound of the album, but I think "Hologrami" I recorded with the Orange and the Matamp. About cabs, I used two Orange cabs -- one with Eminence speakers the other with WGS speakers.

Have you had a chance to play live at all since the pandemic?

Nope, we haven't been rehearsing either.

If you had your choice to tour with any five bands and play in any five places, what would they be and why?

We are keeping it for when there's no risk of cancellations, we have some date plans and so on, but it sucks to cancel things so we are just waiting. I would play with Unsane in New York for example then some bands I have liked recently, even if some are inactive at this moment. Belzebong, Nightslug, Domkraft, Follakzoid, and the body also.

That would be a sick line-up!

What parts of the world would you like to travel to?

Well, I've never been to America or Asia. I have been to Europe, the UK, and Russia only.

Okay, yeah it would be cool to have you come over here and play for us sometime.

Yeah, would be nice

Lastly, did you all wear your heart on the opposite sides of your head for this photo to give the illusion that your heads are on backwards? Or was it digitally manipulated to make it look like your heads were on the wrong way? I love the concept!

I made that pic myself. I took two photographs, one of us in front and another in the backs. So then I took the heads of the back picture and put on our front bodies pic, with Photoshop. David lynch-ish vibes!

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[thenakedgingerwrites]

Would You Rather [Chapter 1]

The guys laughed at my addition to game night but were, at minimum, sarcastically supportive to try. The weekly ritual of me and a couple of my friends from work consisted of beer and board games every Thursday.

Matt and Jim both worked on my team, sort of, while John was our boss’s peer. Honestly having John invited to these probably wasn’t the most ‘ethical’ thing but we all genuinely enjoyed each others’ company and all loved games. I didn’t think John’s presence would be an issue and it hadn’t been.

Oh, and me, Kyle.

Sometimes another guy, Robert, came but he was spotty. He worked near us but was usually busy with something or another. Tonight it was just the four of us.

The game I found was from one of my favorite online board game stores and included very little in the box. There was, believe it or not, a DVD for the instructions, some stacks of paper and pencils, what looked to be a scorecard for up to 8 players, and a baggie of different board game pieces (dice, little colored squares, some coins, and other loose garbage). Online it had pretty good reviews and promised to be a unique experience unlike any other.

So after the laughter of the DVD instructions and clear scam I submitted to, we popped over to the living room and put the disc into my xBox. Man was this video old. It looked like a DVD copy of an early 90’s VHS.

A man came on screen and welcomed us to the game of “Would You Rather?” I had personally played a game by the same name where you had to guess what the other players would answer. It was a cute quick game that spawned good conversation. I assumed this would be similar.

As the host went on, I started to feel a little tired. Long day at the office I suppose. I accidentally dropped my head for a second but came too quickly just as he got to the rules of the game.

“Each player should write 2 options on a piece of paper for another player to choose from. That player will then have to choose to do one of the options or lose a point. Each player starts with 3 points and the last player standing is the winner.

Please pause the video now and have each player write a card for each other player. Resume the video once that is complete.”

Matt asked, “So I write one option per paper?”

“No,” John answered. “I think you write both options on a single sheet and then do the same for two other sheets. So you have a ‘would you rather’ question for each person.” “Oh, got it.” Matt looked up to the ceiling and scrunched his face while thinking of his options.

I added a bit of my strategy out loud, “So, I want you guys to pass on these right? That’s how you lose points.”

“Oh, yeah,” Jim confirmed. “I guess they should be pretty hard then.”

“Well that’s pretty easy then, right?” Matt asked. “I’ll just make you get naked.”

“And who said I wouldn’t do that?” Jim joked.

The guys were all straight, to my knowledge. Maybe bi, who knows. Each of them were married though with kids, except Robert who wasn’t here. I myself was gay and I think they knew it but we never really talked about it. The idea of any of them getting naked was kind of hot I had to admit.

Matt was pretty short but proportioned so nicely. I found myself staring at his butt through the week. Jim was like the complete opposite: a walking bear. Probably 6’5” and big all-around. I’d be lying if I didn’t secretly wonder if everything was big. John was the oldest in the group, maybe late 40s, but in great shape for his age. He had started to get some salt in his dark hair the past couple years and it suited him well. I, myself, was pretty average across the board. I kept in shape but mainly due to diet. I only hit the gym a couple times a week at best.

Back to the game.

I scribbled down some would you rathers that were pretty tame; mostly embarrassing stuff even though I would have loved to write out explicit acts. I didn’t want to weird anyone out.

When we had finished writing ours down, we put them face-down in front of us. Matt and Jim had been snickering the entire time. I pressed play on the video to figure out more specifics on the rules.

“Ready to continue and start the game? Good! Don’t turn away and keep watching and listening to me. You may not have known, but you’ve been hypnotized from an earlier part of this video. Sorry about that, but we found it to be a much more exciting game this way.”

What the fuck, I thought. I wanted to turn to see the other guys’ reaction but I couldn’t stop looking at the screen. I couldn’t even speak.

“The game will go as follows. You’ll all put your pieces of paper in a bowl or hat and take turns drawing them until all slips have been taken. Which means it’s possible to get your own card. I hope you weren’t too hard on your fellow players…

Also, there’s no opting out. Tonight is about the thrill of learning what your friends or family really would rather do. Once you read the options, you have to pick one and complete it unless physically impossible.”

What the fuck?!

“The game is over once all cards have been read. That’s it! Two final little adverts before I let you get on with your night. Firstly, once the game is over all you’ll remember is that this game was really fun, so be sure to leave us a good review online. And secondly, while leaving us a good review, check out our other selection of amazing games for your next party.

And with that, this video will finish and you can begin the game. Youngest player goes first and will continue in that order. Have fun!”

Once the video ended I was back to myself but we all exclaimed the same things. What the fuck. What is this shit. Oh my god. Fucking fuckers. Holy fuck. Etcetera.

“Kyle, what the fuck man?! Did you know about this!?” Matt asked.

“No! Honestly! It just had good reviews so I bought it. I had no idea!”

Jim layered on, “and you didn’t think to look over the rules first before you brought us into this shit?”

“You saw me open it up with you guys! Why would I have thought this was a possibility?!”

There was clearly anger in the room. There was very little question in anyone’s mind that it was real because I’m sure everyone had tried to turn away or speak or something during that monologue and none were successful. That’s when a tingling started in my mind, forcing me towards my first move. I knew I was the youngest.

“Fuck.”

“Me too,” John said. “It’s like I’m physically getting pushed back towards the table to play.”

We all tried to fight it but couldn’t and walked back to the table with our slips of paper. I went into the kitchen to grab a popcorn bowl and brought it to the center of the table. We each threw our cards into it and I mixed them around.

“I’m so sorry guys.” Matt had anguish on his face. “I just wanted you all to pass on my cards.”

“Fuck! Same. Shit fuck fuck,” Jim said.

I mixed the cards around and pulled the first one out. It felt like I was playing Russian Roulette. I recognized Jim’s sloppy handwriting instantly and my eyes darted to him.

He just closed his eyes in shame.

“Piss your pants or put hot sauce on your dick.”

“Sorry.” Jim clearly was ashamed but I assumed we would all feel that and many other emotions tonight.

“I.. I get it. No sorries, Jim. I guess… I’d rather piss myself.” I decided to stand, for some reason. It took me like 30 seconds to start since it’s foreign to piss with your clothes still on but was finally able to let loose. The warm liquid filled around my crotch and went down my leg, darkening a path on my jeans as it went. Luckily I had gone before the guys came over but I was still one beer in and had some volume backed up.

“Not what I was hoping to do with my night but better that then getting an infection on my junk or something…” I sat back down.

We all knew each others’ ages, relatively at least, and knew that Jim was next. He scrunched his eyes, clearly not wanting to grab a slip but couldn’t really help himself. He pulled one out and yelled, “Fucking A!”

We were all silently looking at him as he read aloud, “WYR, I assume that means ‘would you rather,’” Shit, I thought. It was one of my cards. “Do a naked hula dance or eat a tub of mayonnaise.”

I think we all wanted to laugh but were all still intimidated by the night to come. I should make it clear that none of us had seen each other in any sort of undress. Matt and I went to the same gym but almost never were there at the same time and never in the locker room together.

“My answer would probably have been different, but I’m hoping the hypnosis was right and no one will remember this tomorrow… Fuck me. I’d rather do the hula fucking dance.”

Oh god! Jim was going to get naked? I honestly expected the mayonnaise, while gross, wasn’t that bad and I only had like a fourth of the container left in my fridge. It was a couple spoonfuls at best. Should I tell him?

The internal debate was immediately thrown away when he reached for the button on his jeans. He slid down his denim and then removed his shirt as well. Standing in front of me in just his boxers I was speechless. He really was bit everywhere. His gut was big and hairy, pecs were massive, shoulders, arms, legs, …bulge. I couldn’t tell too much with his semi-baggy boxers but a second later he shucked them to the ground as well.

Jim stood there covering himself with his hands with another heavy sigh. “Okay, here we go.” He raised both arms and started to do his, admittedly poor, attempt at a Hawaiian hula dance. I was curious why he didn’t keep one hand down to cover himself but perhaps it was this hypnosis shit or maybe he just didn’t think of it. Either way, I got to prove out my theory that he was indeed big everywhere.

Jim had a pretty big bush but even-so his soft cock was quite visible. I would guess 4ish inches soft and quite thick which sprung fantasies into my head about how big he would be hard. I imagined he was a grower and the impressive 4 soft inches would be a thick 8 when excited. I dreamed that I’d get the opportunity to see tonight.

He continued to sway his hips for a minute or so. His cock and hefty balls swinging back and forth as he did. I couldn’t turn away, for obvious reasons, but could tell the other guys were also watching intently. I’m positive they’re straight so I chalked it up again to the hypnosis power. Maybe we had to look? Maybe we had to do a lot of things the announcer didn’t make clear to us? The excitement was constantly rimmed with fear in my mind.

And like that, Jim declared he was finished, and turned around to dress. I got to see his ripe ass as well which was a wonderful, hairy treat.

“Nice moves, Jimbo,” John said with a smile.

“Haha, ass.” Jim said as he finished putting his shirt on. “I figure you guys won’t remember so why not? And I know Matty’s been wanting to see my big ol’ dick for a while now.”

“Shut up, Jim.” Matt wasn’t enthused. Maybe because it was his turn.

Without much ceremony or grandeur he reached in and grabbed a slip of paper and started to curse under his breath. “It’s one of my own damn submissions.”

John said, “Well isn’t that the best? I’d personally rather get all my own so no one else has to do what I wrote.”

“Yeah well John, I’m a fucking asshole who wanted you all to lose.”

It was true that Matt was the most competitive. Maybe it was a size thing, but he was always very competitive in all the games we played even if they were co-op.

“Would you rather suck everyone’s dick or send everyone at work a dick pic?”

“Oh…” John said.

“Yeah. Fuck me ‘oh’.” Matt wasn’t happy at all and I knew why. While our memories would hopefully be wiped clear from the night if he sent out a picture of his dick to everyone at work that would certainly be there tomorrow and would likely result in him getting fired or in the BEST case he’d get a huge warning and everyone would have a picture of his dick.

“At least you won’t remember?” Jim tried to cheer him up.

“Hard to find the silver lining in that with three dicks in my mouth, you dick.”

“Hey, you wrote it you dingus. Don’t get angry at us.”

“Fuuuuuuuck.” I could tell he wasn’t happy and was fighting it but whatever power this game had over us couldn’t be stopped and would push you towards the choice. “Get your fucking dick out, Jim.”

“Me first? Why?”

“Because you’re right next to me and I don’t fucking know or care. I just want to get this out of the way.”

Jim didn’t really protest further since it would be each of us one way or another. He unzipped his pants and lifted his butt off his chair to pull them and his underwear down a bit under his balls. He was still soft but did look a bit bigger than a minute ago.

“What if I can’t get hard?” he asked.

I answered, for some reason, “Something tells me the hypnosis will ensure we all cooperate.”

Matt got down off his chair and moved between Jim’s legs. His head actually blocked my view which frustrated me. I wanted to move around to watch but since John wasn’t moving I figured the urge was my own gay ones vs. the game. And if he was staying put I should too.

“Fuck me,” was the last thing Matt said before leaning in and taking Jim into his mouth. Jim let a little ‘ohh’ out immediately but then just leaned his head back. The sounds of a sloppy blowjob were obvious but at least Matt was using a lot of saliva. I really wish I could have watched the action. By Matt’s head bobs I’d assume he was only going down maybe 3-4 inches but was that because it was all he could take or because that’s all there was? Was Jim even hard yet?

Two minutes went by with just the sound of a wet blowjob and occasional moans from Jim. I was painfully hard and afraid that would be too ‘gay’ once it became my turn. Suddenly Jim shot his head back forward and looked down at Matt.

“Matt, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum.”

Matt didn’t stop. I’m positive it was the hypnosis because there’s no way he would swallow but I guess the blow job was inferred to be ‘to completion’ mixed with ‘spitters are quitters.’

“Fuck.. ah fuck. FUUUCK!” Jim clearly shot into Matt’s mouth. Matt continued to bob during Jim’s sensitive eruption which lead to Jim’s body just convulsing. He didn’t push Matt off and instead rode with the waves of euphoria and climax.

It wasn’t until Jim’s convulsions stopped that Matt withdrew himself from Jim’s cock. “This is so fucking gross,” was all he said as he crawled under the table. That’s when I got to see Jim’s cock. Probably deflated a bit but still hard from the BJ he had just gotten, glistening with spit and remnants of his own semen. I was pretty spot on with my estimate. He was as thick as I expected and probably just shy of 8 inches now. His balls were pulled tight against his body still as he breathed heavily, eyes closed.

That’s when I noticed Matt’s hands on John’s leg. “Okay, dick hole, get your dick out.”

John obliged but stood up to undo his belt and jeans. He slid everything all the way down to his ankles and, most surprisingly, took off his shirt. “You don’t have to get naked, man!” Matt said.

“I know, but I like being naked when I get my dick sucked, you cocksucker.” He winked at Matt as he sat back down but I wasn’t really paying attention to their words. Sitting next to me, I could see all of John’s body for the first time in my life.

He was probably the most-fit out of all us. His body hair was limited but in all the right spots. Hairy pecs, a treasure trail that turned thicker as it roped down his torso, and a manicured bush highlighting a beautiful package. Nothing about John’s cock or balls was exceptional in dimension but man was it a good-looking dick. It was like what a well sculpted, realistic dildo would look like. I did notice that he shaved his balls though. John clearly took care of himself even now into his 40s, married, with 3 kids.

The other thing, of note, was that John was already rock hard. Perhaps it was the hypnosis or perhaps John was a bit more experimental than I thought. Either way, he was ready for Matt and Matt wasn’t enthused. I’m sure he wouldn’t be enthused either way though.

I won’t bore you with the struggles of a straight guy giving a blow job but in short, he couldn’t fit much in. The 3-4 inches was all Matt was capable of taking which is probably pretty good for a guy that’s never had a dick near his face, I assume.

While Matt sucked, John played with his own nipples. He moaned a lot more than Jim and even encouraged him by name. John wasn’t living in a fantasy, picturing his wife or something, he was living in the moment.

“Oh, fuck yeah Matt. Suck my cock. Mmmm, you’re so good at his man. That feels so good, Matt.”

I looked over to Jim quickly. He had put his cock away but his hand happened to be covering his clothed cock. Was he getting hard again? He was certainly watching the show.

The blowjob went on for probably three minutes before John placed a hand behind Matt’s head. “Here it comes, Matt. You’re gonna make me blow.”

In response Matt just greedily sucked, forced to give the best blowjob he could. John’s stomach tightened up and his balls retracted as he came. Based on his own convulsions I imagine he shot 5-6 ropes into Matt’s mouth. Unfortunately, since Matt doesn’t know how to deep throat he got to taste all of John’s spunk on his tongue before swallowing. Maybe I should teach him sometime, I joked to myself.

Then fear.

I just realized it meant it was about to be my turn and the embarrassment crept up on me. Sure, they hopefully wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow but how could I not still feel ashamed. I wasn’t some sort of exhibitionist.

When Matt finally let John’s cock out of his mouth John made no effort to redress. He just sat there, naked and still hard, looking over at me. “Your turn, buddy.”

Matt didn’t even have words at this point. He actually started to unbutton my jeans for me! They were still wet from my piss but cold and kind of gross to peel off. I decided, like John, to just remove them all-together with my underwear. I kept my shirt on but it felt much better to be without bottoms.

Matt looked at my dick, then up at me. My cock was pretty good. About 7 inches and average thickness? Maybe a hair thinner than average if I’m honest with myself but I like the shape. Straight as an arrow, unlike me.

While looking at me, Matt placed the head of my dick into his mouth. I was pleasantly surprised that Matt didn’t use any teeth. He still didn’t take much in but it really wasn’t a bad blowjob. Then again a warm mouth feels pretty good on your dick no matter what.

Perhaps due to the practice or maybe the hypnosis, Matt got a bit more into it. One hand rested on my thigh, massaging it lightly, while the other grasped me around my base. He started to jack me off a bit while he blew me. He probably just wanted me to finish quicker, actually.

Lucky for him, I did. Partly because it was a good blowjob but more-so fueled by the facts of what just transpired over the past 10 minutes I was ready to go. He maybe blew me for a minute before I shot. I’m not even going to feign embarrassment at that.

I may be relatively average on most things but I know that my dick is a bit above average length and I know I shoot well above-average. Typically I edge for a while before shooting which helps but even in my quick jack-off sessions I drench the toilet paper I use to clean up. Poor Matt had to swallow probably two tablespoons of my jiz and swallow he did. Even a bit leaked out of his mouth and when he unsheathed me from his lips he licked it up. Man was he committed.

I looked over at John after my climax and he was still naked, and still hard. Following his suit, I opted to stay naked mainly because the alternative was to put on wet, cold jeans. Instead I just scooted in further to the table to hide my own non-ceasing erection.

“So.. um,” John said.

“Please. I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to get this over with,” Matt said, back in his chair.

“I was just going to thank you, but fair enough. I guess it’s my turn then.”

John reached in and grabbed a slip. “Run to the end of the street naked or ask the neighbor for a cup of sugar in your underwear.” Another one of mine.

“Well,” John said, “that’s not so bad considering.”

“You’re damn right.” Matt added.

“I think I’d rather take my chances getting spotted running down the dark sidewalk then have to face your neighbors, Kyle. Especially since I don’t think my erection’s not going away anytime soon.”

John got up and walked over towards the front door, indeed being led by his cock right out in front of him. He had a dick like mine that pointed straight out. We all followed him to the door, me covering my own erection with my shirt, poorly. We knew he’d actually do it due to the hypnosis but general curiosity and rubbernecking meant we wanted to watch to see if he’d get spotted.

It was dark but my neighborhood has street lights so his pale body was still pretty visible. John made good time bounding down the 40 or so yards to the end of my block and back. I got to see his firm, squarish ass as he ran away and his bobbing dick and he ran back. I didn’t realize how hot it would be to see a guy naked out in public.

I couldn’t be sure no one saw him but at least no one came outside to yell at him. I had a breif thought of panic that if someone called the cops what would we do? Would we be able to stop the game to answer the door? What if we got arrested without finishing? Hopefully I wouldn’t find out.

When we were all seated I congratulated John on his ‘naked mile’ and he accepted the praise, laughing it off.

“I’m not sure why you’re so happy about all this,” Matt said, agitated.

“Well. I’m still pretty sure none of us will remember this so from my eyes nothing really matters. Plus I just got a great blowjob from this amazing cock sucker.”

Matt laughed a little, “Man, shut up.”

“Really Matt. I kind of wish you’d remember tonight. You’ve got a thing for sucking dicks.”

“You’re all gay!” Matt yelled. He couldn’t help but crack a smile though.

Jim added in, “alright, let’s please finish this. Kyle, your turn.”

“I know..”

I reached into the bowl and pulled out a slip. I saw the words before I read them out loud. I looked to Matt instantly remembering his last slip and he just grimaced. It was definitely his and was going to take tonight to a whole new level.