#they speak very clearly how shit did the producers think American hearing is???

[patheticbatman]

52nd Win a Commission Contest! Guess the movie, win a commission! Guesses must be made before August 13th at 12:01am EST.

This is a 1995 Australian movie with a dog as a main character. He gets terrorized by a feral cat throughout most of the movie. Here she is chasing him through a forest at night. There is no book version, this was an original script (that I adapted and made into a possibly-over-formal prose version lol)(there’s songs in the movie I think I might go back and add them in)

[foxglow-diner]

I just want to pop on and say something.

Last night I was on tiktok and saw this series about artists (mainly punk/emo) who have changed their genre over the years.

In the comments people were giving suggestions for the series. A lot of people were saying "Do Fall Out Boy!" "Fall Out Boy fell off, do them!" just absolutely shitting on the band.

Everyone hates on Fall Out Boy, but forgets how much they've done for music.

With that in mind, let me provide some FOB history. Their album Folie À Deux was a revolutionary album. The band, especially the lead singer, Patrick Stump, was very proud of the album. The sounds and lyrics were ahead of its time during the release.

And because it was different than their regular content, people, including diehard fans, got pissed. They hated the music. So much so, haters would by tickets to FOB and cuss out the band, the music, throw shit (I think that happened too).

This was so disheartening to the band that it caused their big hiatus.

When they built themselves back up, they released the Save Rock and Roll album with the movie. That is another impactful album. Nearly every song off of it has been in a movie other than what they produced. The song Save Rock and Roll itself speaks to how much the band and Patrick love what they do and just want to help those around them love it as much as them. And how it hurts when that isn't reciprocated.

Hmmm, I wonder why he'd say that.

But despite the love for their come back and album, there was still a few who wasn't for it. That group grew larger when the America Beauty/American Psycho album was dropped. With Immortals and Centuries charting as high as they did, being mainstream was what diehard FOB fans hated once more.

And the real shit show came about when in 2018, Fall Out Boy released MAN I A.

Mania was a complete differ from everything they had done up to that point. There's a moody, purple haze over all the tracks. The feel is still Fall Out Boy, just... different. More up to date. The pop punk scene has just faded out and Fall Out Boy wanted to transition to keep up.

Mania is a heartfelt album. The experiments with sounds and Pete Wentz's lyrics is incredibly well done. The song Bishop's Knife Trick is reminiscent of the earlier Jet Pack Blues. You can hear the impact Folie À Deux in the album. That album is clearly the direction the band wanted to go in, but their selfish fans don't understand and respect that.

Maybe that's why they haven't released another album in so long. Maybe not, I don't know.

But that comment section is one of many I've seen filled with negativity about a band just trying to make what they love–––what they're passionate about.

All of Fall Out Boy's fans just shitting on everything they do isn't fair. If you don't like the music, gladly fuck off.

Because there are people, myself included, who love it. Who used Fall Out Boy to grow their taste and love for music. I wouldn't listen to all of the beautiful artists I do now without FOB and I'm so grateful for everything else the band has unknowingly done for me.

I'm just sick of all of the Fall Out Boy hate. It isn't fair to the fans and the band. If you don't get the message that's on you. Shut up and move on.

[drawlfoy]

Wonders of Ohio P.10

masterlist request guidelines

pairing: draco x reader

request: no way 

summary: american high school senior y/n y/l/n is in for a surprise when her british exchange student is a little...odd. 

warnings (AYO please pay attention to these this time it’s not just swearing): swearing, underage drinking (no i do not condone this ig), beginning elements of smut but def not too explicit, i think you can consider it dubcon ?? if both people are drunk bc i don’t think you can actually consent if youre drunk (plz rest assured tho they are both 18 hehe)

a/n: “hey where did this come from” yeah so hey yall ive never written such an intense scene before but i’ve spent so much time w these characters that i decided i kind of had to. there’s no like...real sex in this and i don’t imagine that i’d describe it in this much detail if i ever decided to write it but um.. anyways. i hope y’all enjoy. thanks for suffering for this long ! i hope i’ve made it worth it 

word count: 4k

music recs: 

cloud 9 -- beach bunny

the adults are talking -- the strokes

anything from the strokes tbh 

tags ! :) @gruffle1 @missmulti @cleopatera @hahaboop @accio-rogers @geeksareunique @eltanin-malfoy @war-sword @cams-lynn @itsivyberry @ayo-cowbelly @nerd-domland @yesnerdsblog @shizarianathania @evanstanfanatic @strawberriesonsummer @hariosborn @night-ving @straightzoinked @imintoodeeptostop @naiomimoonshard @jejegu @ophelia-enthusiast @alwaysbeanunknownfan @nearly-memories @litty-dumb @callieclearwater @malfoy-wife15 @charlenasaxen @belladaises @fiantomartell @writeandtranslate @erisdogwood @loveissupernatural @sycathorn-slush @big-galaxy-chaos

“Thank fucking god for the generator,” said Y/N as she flew around the kitchen, banging pots and pans together in her quest to make New Year’s Eve breakfast. Draco was sitting, unamused and completely silent, at the table. They’d been snowed in for a few days now with her parents nowhere near able to make it to the suburbs. For some reason, the entire city of Cincinnati had decided that the day before Christmas was the best time to schedule maintenance on literally every single one of their plows. “Can you imagine living here without heat? Or power? I’d die.”

Draco hummed in response. A glance over confirmed that he was deep in thought, a scarlet colored letter clutched firmly in his hand (hello, Nathaniel Hawthorne). Jealousy curdled inside of her as her thoughts turned to a dark place--it was Pansy, that Pansy Parkinson. 

Knowing her intuition, she was probably his grandmother or something. Why else would she have written so many letters?

After she finished plating all of the pancakes, she allowed herself to sneak a peek at the envelope. 

Astoria Greengrass

She frowned. Astoria? She’d never seen that name before. 

“What is this?” asked Draco as he picked up his fork to poke at the pancake on his plate.

Y/N’s jaw dropped. “Have you never had a pancake before?”

“A pancake?” He gave his plate a stern look. “It looks...like a soggy pastry.”

“Fuck you, I made that,” responded Y/N. “Try it with butter and maple syrup. And then tell me it’s a soggy pastry.”

She took out her fork and knife, demonstrating very clearly what she meant as she spread butter over the top of her pancake. She’d learned that Draco was too proud to ask what she meant when she introduced him to American/muggle foods--the last time he tried to deduce something himself, he ended up pouring ketchup over the top of his hamburger bun instead of actually putting it on the patty. 

A sense of satisfaction flowed into her as she saw him follow suit, spreading the warmed butter and dipping a cut piece in syrup. He raised it to his lips, taking a delicate bite.

“Americans really have this for breakfast?”

“Yeah…is something wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” He grimaced. “This isn’t breakfast. This is dessert food.”

“God, your life must be so sad back home,” said Y/N. “What does your family make you eat--just straight unbuttered bread under the guise of it being a real breakfast food? Do they let you dip it in your unsweetened, weak tea if you’re good?”

He scoffed. “You have no idea how I live back at home.”

“And, judging from this conversation, I don’t have any desire to know any more.”

They ate in silence for the next few minutes. Y/N smiled when she saw Draco reach for a second pancake.

“Two desserts? Draco, I know it’s New Year’s, but don’t get too off the hinges,” she teased. 

He rolled his eyes, but she could tell her was fighting back a smile. “Speaking of which, how do you celebrate New Year’s?”

Draco looked up and met her eyes. “Sorry?”

“How do you celebrate tonight? With your family or your friends, or your...whatever.” The cold reality of the fact that she did not really know if he was dating someone back home set in.

“Oh, I don’t usually. It’s not really a big thing in the magical community,” he mused, unaware of her sudden panic.

“Well,” she said. “I always celebrate New Year’s with my friends. I didn’t tell you this sooner because I didn’t think that you were going to be here, but I’m kind of hosting a party here tonight. With anyone who can walk here.”

“Oh.” He took a sip of his tea. “Will it be like the Halloween party at Sylvia’s?”

“What do you mean?” She smiled. “Do you mean, will there be drinking?”

He shrugged in response, avoiding eye contact.

“There definitely can be,” she continued, her smile widening. “Last year we played this dumb drinking game over this card game--if you lost, you took a shot. It was fun. We could do that again.”

She settled down to eat, digging into two of the pancakes. They were really good--she wasn’t Gordon Ramsay by any means, but she did breakfast food pretty well. But at the mention of her friends, a realization hit her. “Oh. Draco?”

He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes.

“Um, can I tell you something?” 

He dipped his head in recognition while Y/N cleared her throat.

“So, um, I forgot about this,” she began, “but while you were gone, I kind of had to scramble to figure out what to tell everyone about why we were avoiding each other before you left. And why you left so suddenly and why I didn’t know.”

He was still watching her in curious silence. 

“So, I really didn’t want to slip up or say anything about...you.” Y/N paused to take a sip of her tea, deciding to not try to look at Draco again. “So I decided to tell Sylvia and Lizzy that I told you my feelings for you and you didn’t return them.”

A clang startled her enough to look up. Draco was staring, completely frozen. His fork had fallen into the syrup on his plate, handle and all.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“I mean, oh, fuck. Um.” She smiled at him, hoping it was going to distract from her audible stumble. “Obviously, I made it all up. I mean, both sides! But what’s important is that they bought it, and now they’re probably going to give you a little shit for not liking me ‘back’. So I’m sorry about that.”

“Made it all up, huh?” His voice had a surprisingly teasing lilt. 

“Yes, that is in fact what I said,” she responded, hoping that her cheeks weren’t as red as they felt hot.

“Is it really now?” 

“Draco!” 

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be back. I need a new fork.”

“Just wipe off the handle of the one you have now--Draco, why are you getting up? Stop!”

~ 

To her disappointment, none of her friends were able to show. Sylvia and Lizzy made a concerted effort to try and convince their family to let them brave the walk, but once another flurry started up outside, it was hopeless. Her face turned pink whenever she thought about the fact that she hadn’t even needed to tell Draco the thing that made her slip up in the first place. 

Y/N, disappointed but not surprised, told Draco that she still wanted to celebrate, even if it was just with him. He’d snorted at this--asking her why she made it seem like such a burden--but once she produced a yellow glass bottle and a deck of cards and told him she bet that she was going to beat his sorry ass, he caved.

She started with a heavy lead, but once Draco learned the rules and strategies of the slightly convoluted Go Fish game, he proved to be a worthy match. They played until around 11:45 when the bottle was about 3/4 full and Y/N was feeling the pleasant warmth of being slightly intoxicated. Once she noticed the time, she threw her cards on the table. 

“Let’s watch the ball drop,” Y/N said with no further explanation, even when Draco looked to her for one. She grabbed the bottle and his hand, pulling him up the stairs to her room. The remote control for her TV was a struggle to find--it was all the way tucked back in her nightstand drawer--but thankfully the channel was already set. 

“You forgot the cups,” Draco said, staring down at the opened bottle held in his hand.

“You can get them if you want,” she managed.

“You should! You forgot them.”

“Too far,” she whined, flopping to lean back on her pillows while Draco followed suit. His hair smelled like peppermint. Without much more thought, she moved close enough that their shoulders were touching. He didn’t move away--instead, he lifted the bottle to his lips and took a drink directly. 

“Your New Year’s traditions are weird as fuck,” he murmured as he watched Savannah Guthrie on the screen. He didn’t have to speak very loud for her to hear him, and it seemed like he knew this.

“Oh, you haven’t even heard it all yet,” said Y/N. “We’ve got a tradition to kiss someone going into the New Year. New Year’s kiss, I guess. I’m sure you can imagine the kind of drama that creates.”

“What d’you mean?”

“You don’t have to be dating to kiss someone, sometimes people just...do it. As friends.” Y/N reached over to the bottle and took a swig herself, feeling the warmth trickle down her throat.

“Take it easy,” he tutted, pulling the bottle away from her before taking another drink himself. 

“Hey! Says you!”

“Because I can actually hold my liquor well,” he teased, giving her a shove.

“The fuck are you talking about?”

“You just kept getting worse and worse at whatever that game was,” he told her matter-of-factly.

“Give it here,” she said, reaching across his chest to where he was holding the bottle, out and above his head. She hoped he couldn’t tell how much this side of him filled her with glee. “That’s not fair!”

“Not fair, huh?” He raised an eyebrow and met her eyes as he held it up even further into the air. His voice was startlingly low. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

Before she could muster up a response, the TV began playing the audio for the New Year’s Countdown.

10!

Y/N wasn’t sure if she was supposed to answer--or if he was just...flirting?

9!

He managed to set the bottle on her nightstand without taking his eyes off of her.

8!

The hand she had used to reach across him with was now pressed into his side of the bed, supporting her as she hovered over him.

7!

Without moving any part of her body, she dared to glance at his parted lips.

6!

Maybe telling him about the kiss tradition was a stupid idea.

5!

His hand, warm and soft,  reached up to brush a piece of hair away from her cheekbone. 

4! 

His fingers lingered on the outline of her jaw.

3!

2!

1!

He was kissing her before the cheers from the TV even had the chance to bounce around the room, both hands cupping her face and pulling her in so desperately that it took her breath away.

Her hands found his shoulders, then the back of his neck, and then, eventually his hair. It was just as soft as she imagined it to be. They started out innocently enough--closed mouth kisses and only their hands touching each other above the shoulders--but once she tugged on his hair (mostly by accident) something...shifted. 

Suddenly he was on top of her, and suddenly her leg was wrapped around him as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. It occurred to her that this was no longer just a New Year’s kiss. He tasted of lemon and sugar--and was notably better at what he was doing than any of the people she’d kissed before. Or maybe it was the alcohol clouding her judgement. Regardless, she liked whatever was going on. His hands had drifted from her face to her neck to her hair to her shoulder, gently tracing the outline of her bra strap. She brushed her hand down his chest, pulling gently at the collar on his shirt. Only when his leg pressed up into her and her breath hitched did she realize the weight of their situation.

The way he pulled away to hover over her signaled that he’d had the same revelation, his eyes wide as he stared down at her. “Um…”

“Yeah?” Dread crept into her despite the pleasant haze she was in. 

He swallowed, hard. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Draco was on the other side of the bed in seconds, wringing his hands and keeping his eyes fixed on her floor. “Oh, my god, I can’t believe I did that. I’m sorry. I’m drunk and I’m not thinking straight. I’m so sorry.”

“Is something wrong?” She didn’t know if he wanted her to touch him, but she wanted so badly to place a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Did you not want...it?”

He scoffed and turned his gaze up to the ceiling. “I had too much to drink. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.” Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she fell back on the bed.

That’s all it was. A drunken mistake. 

Tears pricked at her eyes as she surveyed her options. Despite the fact that she was drunk off her ass, she knew she couldn’t just tell him to leave without making her feelings clear. She never explicitly told him that she wanted him and it wasn’t like she moaned his name or anything--thank god--but what other option did she have? She didn’t want to cry in front of him, and if he stayed in her room any longer he would without a doubt witness her alcohol induced cry fest. 

NBC finally switched to ads, and Y/N granted herself permission to mourn the fact that Flo from Progressive would forever be ruined for her. 

It was dark enough for her to quickly reach up and wipe her eyes undetected, granting her enough confidence to sit up and look at him directly. “You don’t get to just...kiss me like that. I hope you know that.”

“I know,” he said. His hands were clasped tightly together and rested on his nose. “Fuck. Of course I know.”

“But you can tell me you meant it to be just as friends,” she told him, hoping he couldn’t see how hard she was fighting back a new wave of tears. 

“As friends,” he repeated, his tone flat. 

“As friends,” she said. 

“I don’t think either of us are daft enough to believe that.” 

Her stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”

“Maybe things are different in America, but I don’t see you doing that sort of thing with Lizzy.”

“We can forget about this. It’s fine. I know you regret it.”

He exhaled, his breath long and shaky. “I didn’t stop because I regretted it.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because…”

“Is it because I’m a muggle?” His silence was everything she needed for an answer. “Okay. I had a feeling.”

“Y/N, it’s not like...I don’t know how to explain it.” He still wouldn’t make eye contact with her. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“About what?” 

“About this!” he said, dramatically gesturing to her. “About everything!”

“I don’t understand.” The tears began pricking in the corners of her eyes again despite her best efforts. 

Draco finally looked at her. She was shocked by how genuinely distressed he looked--the last time he looked at her like this, she’d been laying on the ground outside of the antique sore. “I don’t expect you to.”

His tone was low, careful. He was holding back.

“Can you just tell me how you feel about me, then? Just so I know?”

“It’s not that--” He stopped himself, sucking in another breath before he continued. “I shouldn’t. It’s not right of me.” He groaned, flopping onto his back and covering his face. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

“Hey,” Y/N said, reaching out to awkwardly pat his shoulder. “I meant it when I said that we could just forget about it. We’re friends, Draco. Just friends. I know you didn’t mean it. Let’s just pretend this never happened, ok?”

He was quiet for a bit before responding. “Did you...want me to kiss you? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“Uncomfortable?”

“As in, did you want me to stop?”

“Oh.” Y/N cracked her knuckles. “You didn’t violate me if you’re asking to gauge how guilty you should be.” 

“I’m glad to hear that, but that’s not why I’m asking.”

“Okay,” she said simply. He was still laying in her bed, and she hated the fact that her bed was going to smell like him until she washed everything. 

“So?” He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t answer.”

“We’re friends, Draco.” She sent him a weak smile as she repeated her previous sentiment. “I trust you, so you didn’t make me uncomfortable.” 

She was aware of the fact that her sentence didn’t exactly track, but she wasn’t particularly concerned with the literary quality of her speech.

“That still doesn’t answer my other question.”

“I…” She felt her throat dry up. “I want--I wanted you to kiss me. I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a while now.” 

At this, he finally sat up and looked her in the eyes. She thought she could see the briefest glint of relief pass over his face before he managed to rein it back to a neutral expression.

“Did you want to kiss me?”

“I was the one who kissed you, not the other way around, yeah?”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” she snipped, hoping he caught on to her mocking. She’d missed sparring with him. 

“Yes, I kissed you because I wanted to, not for some weird ulterior motive,” he responded, rolling his eyes despite the fact that his cheeks were clearly very pink, even in her dimly lit room. “Though I agree it’s best if we just stayed friends.”

“Yeah.” She felt her face fall, but she managed to catch it before she looked too devastated. “It’s all water under the bridge. Now we know not to drink together again.”

“That too.” He shifted, clearing his throat before making eye contact with her again with an uncharacteristically soft expression. “But the damage is already done, I suppose?”

“I suppose,” she echoed. “You wanted to kiss me? Actually?”

“Should we really talk about this? After what we just said about staying friends?”

“We’re going to feel regret tomorrow morning no matter what we do now, “ said Y/N. “Might as well.”

He smiled one of his rare smiles--the ones where his eyes went all soft and he dipped his head to hide it. “Yes. I really do. Want to kiss you, that is.”

“I really want you to kiss me,” she blurted out before slapping her hand over her mouth in shock. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” 

His smile morphed into more of a smirk as he crept closer, his hand resting on top of her knee. “So can I do it again?”

“Draco…” She sighed.

“The damage is already done,” he repeated as he reached his hand up to brush a lock of her hair behind her ear, his fingers dragging down her neck. The smug look that formed on his face after she drew a quick breath in confirmed that he knew what he was doing, that fucker. “You said it yourself--we’re just friends.”

“I’m going to hate myself in the morning if I say yes.”

 Draco’s hand drifted over her jaw, his thumb pausing to trace over her bottom lip. “You can hate me instead.” 

This time, it didn’t surprise her so much when he leaned in. He was notably less desperate, taking time to draw breaths in between kisses and lacing his fingers through hers, squeezing. Once he seemed satisfied, he lifted her chin and brushed the hair away from her neck, kissing down from her jaw to her collarbone. She shivered, and he drew her closer by wrapping his arms around her until she was sitting on his lap.

“Wow, you’re such a good friend, Draco,” she managed to joke. She could feel the smirk that formed on his lips as it passed over her clavicle.

 “Shut up.” His teeth grazed over her delicate skin before he sucked, eliciting a gasp from her. She could feel him smile again. 

His hands teased the bottom hemline of her sweater, his fingers tangling in the fabric but not moving it. She sucked in a breath, feeling his hands ghost over her skin. 

“Are you okay with…”

“Yes!” The answer came out much quicker than she would’ve liked, but the grin on Draco’s face made it completely worth the momentary embarrassment as he helped her out of the thick cable-knit sweater. “Now is your chance to dote on me and tell me how beautiful I am. As a friend, of course.”

“You stole the words right out of my mouth,” he said. He looked like he was positively glowing as she smiled and leaned in to kiss him, slow and deep. His hands found her back and hesitated over her bra clasp.

Before he had a chance to do anything, Y/N started fiddling with the buttons on his white shirt, successfully undoing the first two before she noticed that Draco had frozen completely.

“Is something wrong?”

“Kind of,” he said. “Maybe...not now, okay?”

“I had a feeling that was too much,” she admitted, reaching for her top before realizing he’d tossed it across her bedroom floor and suddenly feeling very exposed.

“It’s not that…” he said, trailing off. “I just...should probably tell you some things before my shirt comes off. And I don’t think tonight is the best time for that.”

“Oh.” Y/N tried to make herself look like she understood whatever he was on about. “Yeah, of course. Oh! Is it about that tattoo you tried to gaslight me into believing didn’t exist?”

“Y/N!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t gaslight you!”

“Here you go again,” she huffed. “I rest my case.” 

“And I am not getting into that now,” he said. “I didn’t want to talk about it for very good reason.” 

She reached up to his shoulders, dragging her fingertips over his collarbones and watching as he gazed up at her. “That’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

The corners of his lips turned up at this, and she took the opportunity to press a chaste kiss on the edge of his mouth. “I think we should go to sleep. We have enough material to regret for tomorrow at this point. Any more and I think we’ll be getting greedy, so--”

Draco cut her off with one last kiss, his fingers splayed out across her back, pulling her impossibly close before finally releasing her.

“Agreed.” He let out a sigh before sliding her off him and standing up to grab her runaway sweater. “Do you want to sleep in this? Or do you want me to get you something else from your dresser while I’m up?”

“Um…” She was frozen at the prospect of him watching her change clothes. “Probably something else. Top left drawer--just pick whatever.”

He sifted through her piles of random T-shirts before settling on one with the UChicago logo and tossing it to her. 

Y/N pulled it over her head, grateful for the fact that he wasn’t staring at her with only a black lace bra that barely did its job. 

“So, uh, I think I should probably go then,” he said. 

She fought the urge to ask him to stay. “Yeah, that’d be best.”

His mouth opened like he was about to say something, but he closed it and frowned. “So I guess this is goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Draco,” she replied. “I’ll look forward to agonizing over this in the morning.”

Once the sounds of his footsteps heading down the hall faded, she finally allowed herself to flop back onto her now Draco-scented sheets.

What the fuck just happened.

final a/n: hellooooooo ! it finally happened! i hope this didn’t seem rushed or unnatural to you guys but like. it’s been over 30k words and i thought you guys deserved something. yes i am going to be leaning into the whole “we’re just friends” trope while definitely not being just friends. yes i am going to drag astoria into this i’m excited i hope yall enjoyed

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

Chapter 3 - Unexpected texts

Synopsys: The name of the series is super random, don't mind me. Reader is a postgraduate student at NYU, made a docuseries on her research, and the show got picked up by Netflix. She goes on a press tour and meets Tom on a ‘chat show’. They get together and she decides to stay for a few days in London with him. This could be an amazing few days or more? It’s been interesting writing how they’ll deal with distance and tight schedules once ‘honeymoon’ is over...

Heads up: my first language is Portuguese, so that might explain some things here - of course, I wrote thinking about myself hahaha

Warnings for the series: mention of illicit drugs, angst caused by distance, smut (next chapters, very explicit), anxiety caused by paparazzi, and rude random people taking photos.

Other than that, this is just my guilty pleasure writing so lots of caring sweet Tom and fluffiness.

Chapter 1 - A new city

Chapter 2 - Show time

Chapter 3 - Unexpected texts

This is 2.4k words (approximately)

Later, you were just laying in your hotel room and watching some tv, or telly how they say over here. You wanted to get some sleep and maybe call your parents to tell them about the day. It was so crazy, you didn’t think they’d quite grasp how crazy, but you wanted to include them anyway. I guess maybe especially because of that. Tomorrow you guys had to be at the station super early for the Radio 1 Breakfast with Greg James. 6 o’clock you thought it was that David had told you. You might as well check with him and set an alarm already. So you went to grab you phone for texting him and got a text from an unknown number.

The contact you had saved as “Tom Holland” (with the air quote marks) was calling on Facetime. Shit. This couldn’t be him. Could it? Have you even given your personal number to the producer at Graham? Shit. Just answer it and kill Lukas. You pressed the green button and the screen was dark. There was some music in the background, but it was a little muffled. And sure enough, there he was. Smiling at the phone slightly bellow his eye level. He’s hot. You look like shit with zero makeup and your hair in a crazy pony tail.

“Hi!” He said laughing. “Do you believe me now?”

“Hi…this is embarrassing. Sorry! I have the worst friends and is just like them to try to pull a prank on me because of this” You answered.

“No worries, darling. I’m a little sad you’d think me texting you is laughable though.” He joked.

“You know what I mean! Like I said, Tom Hanks wanting to work together I would have an easier time believing.” You laughed.

“Maybe I want to work together. By the way, I’m glad you did, but for future reference, you probably shouldn’t use your personal number for these things.” He advised you.

“Well, it’s not like I have more than one number so…” You told him.

“Your agent’s then.” He clarified.

“I don’t have an ‘agent’.” You emphasized the last word.

“Well, you should probably get one then, darling. Trust me on this one.” He was walking and the music got louder for an instant and then muffled again. Looks like a bar or the outside of a bar at least.

“Are you in a bar?” You asked him laughing.

“Excuse me, not a bar, a PUB. And no, I’m on the sidewalk of a pub, actually. Going home.” He said. “And you are…?”

You were kind of getting what he wanted from you and that was kind of annoying actually. He’s a movie star for god’s sake. Can’t he get a girl in whatever pub he’s at right now? “Busy actually.” You answered him.

“Oh sorry. Terrible timing, huh? I asked for your number this afternoon, after the show. But the bloody PA just sent me it right now. He might lose his job for this. Took him a lot of convincing, ya know?” He was talking and walking, you could see he was clearly trying to start a conversation and all that in the middle of the street.

“So you just got it and couldn’t wait to text me huh?” You teased.

“Kind of, yeah. The two pints probably helped me build the nerve. I’m not usually like this. I barely facetime my friends.” He told you.

“And in the middle of the street. If you get mugged, I don’t want to be accounted.” You were relaxing a bit and sat on the bed leaning on the headboard. He laughed at your joke. Maybe he was just drunk and not really after a booty call. “I thought you british were famous for spending nights at the pub. Why you leaving so early, anyway?” You asked.

“Got to get up early tomorrow for a work out.” He answered simply.

“Of course you do” You said.

“And I much rather talk to you too.” He said.

Silence. What do you answer to that? Is he flirting with you? He’s definitely flirting with you.

“Ahem” He cleared his throat. “I really did liked your show, you know? It’s really something.” He said.

“You did? Thank you. Means a lot.” You said. “I’m still shocked it’s getting this much attention, to be honest.”

“Why? I’m shocked no one’s done it before. Is such a good idea. But maybe if they’ve done it, it wouldn’t be the same. Cause your presenting is probably what makes it that good.” He had stopped walking and you could hear keys juggling in his hand. “I live really close to the pub. I know” He laughed and you laughed back. “Hey!” He said to someone outside the screen and started to walk up stairs.

“Do you live with someone else? Your parents?” You asked.

“Uhh…no, no. I mean yeah, my mates Harrison and Tuwaine and my brother Harry. It’s just Tuwaine and his girlfriend downstairs though, I think.” He told you while taking off his shoes.

“Hey don’t go cockblock your friend now” You laughed.

“Never. And always.” He joked back. “Thought you’d be out enjoying London tonight, or were you planning on going out later?” He asked you in a thick accent.

“What? No, I’m a serious business girl. No time for shenanigans” You said laughing, so he’d know you were joking.

“Shenanigans” He laughed back. “Your English is better than mine you know?”

“Oh I’m sure” You answered sarcastically. “Flattering will get you far, but lying will not”

“I’m serious. If you haven’t said it today I’d think you’re American. You kind of have a New Yorker accent” He said.

“Yeah? ‘Fuhgeddaboudit’” You said in a thick accent and you laughed together. It was fun talking to him.

“What other languages do you speak?” He asked you when you stopped laughing.

“Portuguese, English…Spanish, Italian, a little bit, and German” You answered while counting your fingers.

“No way. Say something in German. By the way, I’m still here, I’ll just change these clothes.” He said while putting the phone on the nightstand and getting out of the frame. He was taking off his clothes, you thought. And he wanted you to say something in German.

“Nennen sie das Ärger?” You said, without thinking everything through.

“Now say the same in Portuguese” You heard his voice but didn’t see him.

“É isso que eles chamam de problema?” You said again.

“Yeah, portuguese is defenitely sexier.” He laughed and grabbed the phone again to sit on the bed. He was shirtless and with his head on the headboard of the bed. “What did you said anyway?”

“Excuse me, I wasn’t aware I’d have to translate it.” You mocked being offended.

“Oh so it WAS dirty. I thought I was imagining.” He teased you.

“You’re smooth.” You shook your head. “I’m still not saying it. You’ll just have to learn Portuguese, or German.”

“I’ll learn Portuguese if you teach me.” He said. “How long are you here for?”

“Just till tomorrow.” You said. “Flying back to New York tomorrow night.”

“More interviews?” He asked.

“Tomorrow’s the last one actually. But I’m traveling with David, he makes the show with me, and I’ve kept him from his fiancé long enough. That and we have to prepare for big meeting with executives next week, you know find an agent and stuff.”

“I could talk to my agent if you want to, he’s an actors agent but maybe he knows someone for other kinds of jobs” He said. “You don’t have a fiancé to get back to, do you?”

“No. No fiancé or jobs for that matter.” You laughed. “And I’m not even sure what kind of jobs would those be.”

“Publicity deals. If I had a brand, I’d want you to be the face of it. It’s the face of diversity and youth, isn’t it? It’s a beautiful face” He said.

“The face of diversity and youth?” You laughed. “Now you’re the one confusing me with Tom Hanks” You joked and he laughed out loud. “I could use some friendly recommendation though, on the agent thing. I don’t even know where to start looking and sounds like the type of thing you don’t want to ask the wrong people” You added.

“Yeah, sure. He’ll know someone for sure.”

“Thank you”

“Glad to help! Really!” He smiled at you. “So where you going tomorrow?”

“Breakfast show at Radio 1. Greg James I think” You answered.

“Oh he’s great! We were there today. You’ll have a great time! It’s a bit early, no? Am I keeping you from sleep? Do you want to hang up?” He was cute, all concern and stuff.

“Yes, yes and no. I’m enjoying you keeping me from sleep.” You said. Maybe it was the time, but that was kind of bold Ana. Good job?

“Good. I’m enjoying it too.” He said while you were getting under the duvet, getting cozy. “Are you enjoying London? What’s your favorite place so far?”

“I loved what I’ve seen from the car window” You answered sadly. “And all the studios we’ve seen.” You laughed a little. “But since we’ve landed it’s been go go go.”

“That’s a great song though.”

“I can’t believe you got that reference.” You said surprised. You love The Maine.

“I love The Maine. Honest. ‘Where I come from you learn to make the best of things’”

“‘But honey since we’ve met you know you’ve had the best of me’” You mock singed together and laughed when you finished the verse.

“OH MY GOD DO YOU WANT TO MARRY ME?” He joked while laughing.

“YES! AND WE CAN GET ON THE ROAD CHASING INDIE BANDS ON TOUR?” You joked back.

“I mean, that’s the dream, that’s the dream.” He said. “I can’t believe that you haven’t seen London though. Wish you’d stay longer, I could take you some places. If you’d like, of course” He said.

“Don’t you have work? I though movie stars didn’t have time for tourism in their own home town” You teased.

“I’m sure movie stars don’t. Good thing I’m not one.” He said smirking.

“Ok, and where would you take me then?” You asked. Where you really contemplating extending your trip just right now? Get a grip on yourself woman.

“Uh, I don’t know. Parks?”

“Parks?” You laughed.

“And pubs.” He laughed too. “To be honest those are the only places I go to when I’m home. I take my dog on walks and drink with friends.”

“Doesn’t sound like a bad life to me.”

“No, I guess not.”

You guys kept talking for hours about everything and nothing. Favorite music, food, drinks, spots for each of those in different cities. You lived in NY but had lived in Berlin before and he was interested in that and you were very interested to hear about the places he’d been, but mostly about London.

“So you actually live here?” You asked him.

“What you mean? London? Yeah.”

“But don’t you work more in LA and stuff? You have a place there too?”

“Uh, no, actually. I don’t work there as much. No as much to justify getting a place anyway. If I’m honest, I haven’t stayed in the same place for too much time, unless I’m off work. And then I’ll be here. Closer to the family. Friends. You know.” He told you.

“That’s nice. It sucks to be away all the time”

“You probably know what I mean. There was a time I was considering getting a place in LA, you know, that whole Hollywood thing. And I was kind of seeing someone there at the time, so that might have had some influence in the decision. We were looking at houses and they were amazing, huge and crazily luxurious.”

“You were going to move in together?”

“No, she was just helping me look for places. Anyway, it didn’t worked out and in the mean time I found this house here so it was for the better I think.” He was opening up to you. “That’s really not for me. That whole life. Mansions, cars, the paparazzi.”

“Listen, I’m not sure how to break it to you. But you might not have chosen the best work line then.” You joked.

“No joke” He laughed. “I know it’s part of the job. At some extent. But I don’t need to go looking for trouble too. This way I’ll just deal with all that when I’m at the states and here I can focus on something else. Spend that money with something else. Spend my time with people that I actually care about and care about me. You know?”

“I like your mind” You said without thinking and there was a while of silence between the two of you.

“I think that’s the best compliment I ever gotten” He said.

“Shut up. You know what I mean.” You blushed.

“I know. And that’s why.” He smiled. “I like your mind too. I like that you don’t filter it. You’re genuine” You had blushed and closed your eyes at his compliment. When you opened them he was smiling at you. “You have the most amazing green eyes, you know that? They’re beautiful. And smile too. I love your smile.” You turned your head to the side, like you didn’t understand what he was saying, but you did. You were only studying him.

“Where you getting at Holland?”

“Can I see you tomorrow? Will you have sometime after your interview?” He asked.

“Yeah. I have the day actually, my flight is not until 11 at night, I think. When you want to meet?”

“I can pick you up right after and we can grab some lunch, sounds good?”

“Yeah, sounds perfect” You said and looked at the clock, it was 02:38 in the morning. “But I should probably try and get some sleep now, or I won’t be a real person tomorrow.” He touched the screen on his phone, probably looking at time himself.

“Shit, that’s late. Sorry, I didn’t felt the time” He apologized.

“Me neither” You smiled. You wanted to say more, like how amazing it was talking to him and that’s why time flew like that, how you haven’t felt that in many years. But you didn’t.

“Okay, I’ll let you go now. See you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow Holland” He laughed. “What?”

“I like how you call me by my last name. Sounds good. See you tomorrow (y/l/n)”

“I liked how mine sounded in your English accent”

“Yeah? Did I pronounce it right?” He laughed.

“Close enough” You laughed. “Alright, good-bye now”

“Tchau” He said while you hanged up, catching you by surprise.

You couldn’t believe what just happened. Oh boy indeed. You were sure you weren’t even going to be able to sleep tonight, smiling in the dark to yourself like that. Get a grip woman.

[katsukikitten]

Bakugoxreader is a USA transfer. Shes really sweet but doesn’t put up with bakugos shit. He tolerates her because she puts up a good fight and low key thinks her accent is adorable. one day their class has a tea and shes bummed because she likes iced sweet tea. Everyone thinks that’s weird but later that night Bakugo shows up with a pitcher and a little embarrassed because he doesn’t know if he used enough sugar. Then she jokes about in the south sugar could also mean kissing. And then they do.

Sun Tea

A/N Hopefully this is close to what you had in mind lovey! Enjoy! Thank you for your patience while I wrote this!

Three sets of eyes stare down at the pile of cards atop the circular coffee table, each of you sitting cross legged while a few of your other class mates sit among the couches.

"Draw six Y/N." Kirishima wears a rare devilish smile as he places down a yellow draw two card atop two other hellish cards.

You return his smile holding eye contact with Bakugou as you dramatically produce a red draw two.

"Bless your heart Bakugou doll, you've gotta draw eight." You take much satisfaction in placing down the card that will screw him over.

A little too much actually, it's not very hospitable of you to enjoy another's misfortune.

It all boils down to when you were first transferred here, mostly against your will, from America Bakugou hated you with every fiber in his being.

And you hated him in return, which was quite unlike you.

But he had aired all your dirty laundry about your delinquent behavior that you had done in America.

What he didn't know was you had to do those things to survive.

You absentmindedly brush against the tattoo on your neck and two sets of red eyes follow.

Believe it or not he was beginning to see that now.

Could really see how much that lifestyle was thrust upon you.

"This is a stupid fucking game! Why'd I let you talk me into playing hair for brains!?" Bakugou snarls, snatching at the deck on the table counting out eight muttering fuck you beneath his breath.

Kirishima laughs in response as he places down a red eight, Deku places down a red six before you place down a skip.

"You're fucking working together huh?" He snarls darkly and you laugh.

"Ain't his fault you're as lucky as a June bug in November." Your laugh echoes in the room. Pulling at the ash blonde's stomach. Although he doesn't know what the hell you're saying he knows that your voice is just too God Damn cute. You notice the dusting of red on his cheeks and chalk it up to his temper.

To which he adds validity to your assumption by adding harshly.

"What in the fuck are you saying?"

It's a question you hear often.

"I believe she means you're not lucky at all." Todoroki chimes in, heterochromatic eyes peering over his book. Momo nods in agreement as she writes down the expression as she has been these past few months, every now and again she'll try to use the English expression in everyday conversation to you.

And honestly you don't have the heart to tell her that not ALL Americans will understand what she's saying.

You pray to the good Lord that she'll run into another decent Southern belle who would get a lick of what she's saying.

Kirishima takes sympathy and places down a reverse for his friend.

Bakugou smiles from ear to ear and plops down an angry looking black card.

"Draw four bitch." He snarls close to your ear and you narrow your eyes. You draw a blue zero, a red two, a green six and the very card that first scorned you.

A draw four that may be your saving grace.

"Don't be gettin too big for ya britches now Suki, Im fixin ta win." You drawl out real heavy because you're excited and again Bakugou's cheeks begin to heat.

You smirk a deadly smile to him that he returns ten fold.

His smile sends your stomach into a tizzy and you try to talk yourself from the edge.

The two of you had just gotten over absolutely loathing each other and transitioned into hard frienemies.

So why the hell were you fighting off a crush?!

It was bound to happen since Aizawa paired the two of you together and only because Bakugou had the highest score in English.

But damn if you weren't hard to understand sometimes. It was like you weren't even speaking English!

At least not the english Bakugou was taught.

Depsite your past, time showed those harsh scarlet eyes that you weren't a total lost cause, an extra undeserving of a second look.

You more than proved you were a worthy rival and it all came after the phrase.

*"Oh I'm finna kick ya ass to high heaven."*

He has never seen you so flustered before and damn did you keep good to your word.

Forcing him to actually try against you. Never admitting that he enjoyed that part of you.

Narrowed eyes, flushed cheeks and pouty lips pulled past white teeth looking "madder than a wet hen."

Or whatever the hell it was you said.

He just hadn't known he would enjoy that odd ass twang you had too.

But you'll never know that it wasn't really Kirishima who convinced Bakugou to play this stupid idiotic game.

No, it was you, when you wore that devilish smirk before adding

*"Guess you're too scared you'll lose!"*

Katsuki sat down and actually dealt the cards himself then.

"Does anyone want tea?" Mina asks, peeking out from the kitchen.

"Please dahling!" You shout and she smiles your way before making her way back to that amazing smelling dinner.

You have two cards left in your hand, you feel lucky but at the same time you're relying on Bakugou to set down a card that will benefit you.

Please God let it be either a blue card or a zero.

You really didn't want to have to use your ace in the hole or have to draw.

Bakugou places down a red reverse causing Kirishima to draw a few cards before he slaps down a red eight.

"Oi Deku. Make yourself useful. Y/N only has two cards." Bakugou snarls, Izuku gulps avoiding eye contact.

He looks over his cards with nervous eyes muttering to himself with each passing second Bakugou gets that much more agitated.

"OI! PUT DOWN A CARD!" He yells and Deku does hastily.

And the Uno Gods have blessed you as a red zero stares lovingly up at you.

"Its about to go to hell in a hand basket for y'all! Uno!" You exclaim as you place down your card, switching it to blue.

"What?!" Kirishima laughs while Bakugou snarls.

"Means you're about to have a bad time." This time Todoroki doesnt even bother to look up from his book. He flips the page and Momo flips through her own notes.

She must spy the phrase and puts a tally by it. She figures the more times you've said it the more common the idiom.

Little does she know there are some phrases in their you'll most likely never utter again having been quick witted when you made the Southernism on the fly

"How the hell do you know what she's saying?" Denki asks looking up from his switch, trying hard not to move as Jhiro naps on him. Dead to the world with her head phones plugged in.

Todoroki shrugs flipping another page before he eyes the game.

Bakugou sucks his teeth, he doesnt have anything to use against you, you clearly don't even go after him.

And to make things worse he doesn't even have fucking blue or a damned zero. He draws seven cards before blue shows up. He places the blue nine down harshly, Kirishima places a green nine over top of it and all eyes fly to Deku.

Who again begins to murmur and mutter as he thinks of his next move.

All the while your smile grows wider and wider.

There isn't much of a card out there that could stop you.

Deku hesitantly lies down a red nine hoping that changing the color so rapidly would cause you anxiety.

When he see that it doesn't he begins to watch in horror as you place down that little black cars with the +4 in the corner.

"No..." He gasps.

"NO!!" Bakugou shouts slamming his fists agaisnt the table, "Rematch!"

"What's the with all the fuss?" Mina asks carrying a large tray of drinks. She makes her way around the room setting down a scalding cup to each person.

"Y/N won and Bakugou's mad." Kirishima explains kissing Mina's cheek and tapping his lap, "Thanks babe."

She sits cozily picking up her cup.

The whole class, aside from yourself and napping Jhiro seem to take a sip of the tea in unison.

Everyone holds the cup just in front of their chest as a smile spreads on their face.

Even Bakugou looks joyful and you look to the steaming liquid in the gray cup before you.

Heavily missing your favorite sweating Mason jar clinking with ice as you watched summer storms a brew.

Scarlet eyes notice how your drink goes untouched, he nudges you harshly before shouting.

"Oi!" He hates the long face you wear, "Drink it before it gets cold."

"I uh... I keep forgettin the tea aint iced or sweetened here." You say sheepishly keeping your eyes down, "Thank you Mina."

"What? Iced? Sweet?" Bakugou sounds baffled as he tried to understand.

Tea was fucking tea. It didn't need ice and it didn't need sugar.

"Yea! It's a staple in the Southern states. Can't throw a rock where it ain't served." Your face brightens as you speak, that drawl even heavier, "And sweet enough to rot your teeth!"

"Why?" Bakugou asks borderline nasty while you have the attention of everyone in the room.

"You see it gets hotter than Hell in the South, humid enough to make ya melt faster than Frosty in July. So sweet tea keeps ya sane. It's cool and of course sweet, keeps us southern folk from being bitter about how hot it is." You stare into the liquid in the cup, almost imagining it to be different.

"Oh! And if it's hot enough in the summer, which it always was where I was from, yall can make sun tea."

"Alright you're making shit up now." Bakugou shakes his head before taking another sip. He closes his eyes when he sees that his comment has struck something in you.

Your face flashes from angry to almost hurt.

"I used to make the best sun tea every summer." You say longfuly before adding, "Anyway I'm tired. Imma head to bed."

"But dinner is soon!" Kirishima and Mina express their worry in unison.

You smile to mask your hurt. Although it was extremely hard for you in America there were somethings you missed greatly.

Sweet sun tea was one of 'em.

You could take the girl out of the South but not the South out of the girl.

"I'll be fine. I'm full as a tic from that late lunch. I'll see y'all when the roasters sing." You wave as you head towards the stairs.

All the while crimson red eyes bore into you.

Before the bore into space through dinner and now into the ceiling as he lies in bed.

Why did you look like that?

Where you that upset?

Had his comment been too far?

Were you madder than that stupid wet hen you kept mentioning?

No, he knew you weren't mad he knew you were feeling "blue" and that he needed to some how make you "right as rain."

That's how you said it right?

He snarls as he snatches up his phone looking up this and that before settling on doing the ultimate thing for you.

He bares his teeth when he sees JUST how long this will take and that he may have to move it depending on the sun.

But he rises early from bed anyway and gets all of the things needed for what he's fixing.

Soon the morning melts into night and Bakugou was lucky that it was in the dead of summer.

Katuski notices that you announce that you're going to"hit the hay" sooner than you normally do when you're not feeling yourself.

Nervousness begins to escape him through beads of sweat on his brow as begins the finishing touches.

You lie on your bed, scrolling through the old photos on your Insta. Longing for those flashes of lightning, corn fields brightened by the moon's light and those old winding backroads.

You open your window to let the warm air in, at least Japan and the south had one thing in common.

Even the bugs would scream late into the night about how hot the day was.

You lie back again, sighing as you scroll, longing for those times once more.

You missed the stars, you missed the barn cats, the hens, the long trips to the beach.

You scroll down a bit further and spy a picture that brings tears to your eyes.

"You're dumber than a box of rocks Y/N pull it together!" You whisper to yourself as you wipe your eyes.

It was only a photo of a large glass container absorbing all of that summer sun and a wide mouth quart mason jar filled with ice.

Ready to be filled.

Still tears fall and for the first time you cry.

Cry for the lost memories.

The lost time and most importantly your lost childhood.

That place took everything from you, forced you to the cities to sell and steal.

But here you were crying like a baby over some tea and the moon.

A harsh knock comes at your door that has your heart in your throat.

You toss your phone as if you were looking as something bad before clearing your throat.

"Coming honey. Gimme a sec I ain't decent." You say, not really lying as you look yourself over in the mirror.

It really wasn't decent for a Southern Belle to cry over some spilt sweet tea.

You open the door to be met with burning scarlet eyes.

"Honey really?" He asks with a smirk.

"Had I know it would have been you that the cat dragged in I would have said vinegar instead." You cross your arms, far from in the mood to deal with Bakugou of all people.

He gives you a pointed look, half knowing what you mean before he sighs heavily.

"I've got something for you now sit down and close your damn eyes." He snarls and you look at him suspiciously.

"Last time you 'had' something for me we scrapped with our fists." He rolls his eyes and gently guides you into your room. He ushers you to sit on your bed making his way back to the hall.

"No peeking damn it!" He growls. Now it is your turn to roll those gorgeous eyes before you close them with an exasperated sigh.

What in Sam's hell was he up to?

You hear an odd sound of clinking before he kicks your door shut.

A long silence stretches between the two of you before courage returns to Bakugou.

Something cool is pressed against your palm and you grab onto it quickly letting your eyes flutter open.

When you spy a mason jar filled with ice and sloshing tan liquid you squeal as if it were a wedding ring. Your reaction alarms Bakugou before he sees the smile forming on your kissable lips.

He swallows his hot desire as you jump up and down on the bed.

He swallows his hot desire as you jump up and down on the bed.

"Is this what I think it is?!" You bring the jar to your lips and taste.

Your body relaxes and your head tilts back, eyes fluttering as it brings a rush of memories.

How did he get the tea to sugar ratio so...so fucking perfect.

You dare not ask who made this tea because it was made right.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you take in all of the context clues.

Bakugou had been going outside every hour or so today. Making some sort of excuse not to leave the dorms today.

Then he holed himself up in the kitchen just before you had turned in for the night.

Lastly his cheeks were red, burning hot and it finally dawns on you that it isn't from his temper.

But from something else.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

"Is...is that enough sugar for you?" Bakugou asks hesitantly, scratching the back of his head.

You laugh aloud wondering if he realizes the double meaning to his words.

"What?! What is so fucking funny? Is it fucking laughable how bad it is?!" He growls standing as you set down your tea as your laughing fit sets in.

Finally you wipe away a stray tear before regaining your composure.

"Oh no. Bakugou it's great. But sugar has another meaning in the south." You giggle again before adding, "Sugar can mean kissing.

Bakugou stares at you for a moment, he watches as you brush you hair behind your hear. He drinks in the blush that burns in your cheeks seep down your throat as you realized what you've just said.

And he breathes in the sweet smell of summer air carried in on the breeze of your open window.

All day while he tended to that sun tea, moving it into direct sunlight he caught wiffs of smells that reminded him of you. Wild flowers, lilies, sunflowers, honeysuckle, all swaying in the wind watching as he worked and every time he opened the top to that tea he would smell that sharp black tea, combated by the sweet smell of sugar.

He slides his hands past your cheeks, wrapping fingers into hair as he pulls your face to his.

Capturing your lips with his own, and like every spar you've had with him you fight to be the winner. Pulling at this bottom lip with your teeth, demanding entrance the he allows but only for his tongue to win in the end.

He kisses you until you become putty in his hands, melting into his touch as your hand grips tightly onto his black skull tee shirt. A moan escapes your lips as he kisses you impossibly sensual and slowly.

He pulls away and you actually whine but he does not move far, pressing his forehead to yours.

He stares at you before a deadly smile crosses his slightly swollen lips. His voice comes out dangerously husky as he says

"Is that enough sugar for you?"

[okayto]

Mini-Review: Ghost Hunt

High schooler Mai Taniyama accepts a job offer from the Shibuya Psychic Research Center as an assistant to its leader, enigmatic 17-year-old Kazuya “Naru” Shibuya. The firm investigates various strange phenomena at the behest of its clients, joined by a spirit medium, a shrine maiden, an exorcist, and a monk.

Look, this is my shit. A combination of mystery and the supernatural, creepy but rarely reaching horror levels, my biggest problem with this series is that it has 25 episodes and I WANT MORE.

You’ve got your everygirl protagonist: Mai Taniyami. Roped into helping when the assistant to the guy called in to investigate a possible haunting at her school gets injured, she proves to have a talent for sussing things out, and accepts a job offer.

Mai? Is great. She can be impulsive and might yell at her boss for not doing the right thing (in a moral sense), but in a way that felt fairly realistic to me. Plunge into danger to save someone? Sure, I can believe that! Ask questions that people seem to be ignoring? Also reasonable! She is our proxy, hoping for the best and caring for people when the Experts (particularly her boss) seem to be callous.

THIS ASSHOLE ON THE OTHER HAND

To be clear, Naru’s whole thing is that he’s stuck-up. He gets the nickname “Naru” because Mai thinks he’s narcissistic. He’s 17 and the head of a paranormal research agency, blunt and rude, and clearly hiding some secrets. He’s not so bad that you (probably) hate him, but he’s Mai’s opposite.

He ALSO has a communication problem, and we all know how much I want to reach into my screen and strangle people who don’t communicate. The problem is along the lines of “I let you think this thing we’d do would hurt people and so you got very upset and yelled at me in front of everyone, but it turns out we’re doing the thing in a way that WON’T hurt people!” but still, it’s an asshole move because I can’t think of a single instance where he couldn’t at least have said “I don’t have time to explain, but we’re being careful.”

The side characters are what really make the show great. You’ve got your Catholic exorcist, a young priest with a disposition as sunny as his hair...

...a teenage spirit medium who dresses in traditional kimono and has a crush on Naru, a shrine maiden unattached to a shrine (Ayako gets the short stick as far as character development and doesn’t get a chance to shine until the last case of the series, I am bitter), and a monk-on-hiatus who’s part of a rock band.

Monk is one of the best parts of the series: besides being just a fun (and competent!!!) character, he also takes the role of big brother/uncle to Mai, and they have a very sweet relationship.

While the characters are the heart of the show, we do actually have stories: the things they’re called in to deal with. These range from “minor nuisance in the park” to “evil entity actively murdering people.”

The story spends time with them, too! I think there was only one case in the entire series that was wrapped up in one episode. Everything else ranges from 2-4 episodes, so it can really take its time focusing on their investigations and drama. Most stories are what you’d expect from ghost stories: spirits, dark and creepy atmosphere, etc, but one 4-episode arc near the end of the series did feature an old hospital and murders and shots of blood (though no shots of actively bleeding people or bodies).

(This happened to the be arc in which my roommate joined me, so I was like it usually isn’t like this I swear please don’t leave I don’t want to watch this bit alone)

The manga it’s based on was never fully released in the USA (11/12 volumes came out before its publisher imploded, and it was never picked up again by anyone else) and is now out of print, so the anime is really your only chance to legally enjoy it in any form.

Verdict

English dub? Yes, and Mai’s English voice is one of my favorites--she actually sounds like a teenage girl! Tonally, in her indignation, everything! Everyone else is fine: Ayako the shrine maiden’s voice almost perfectly matches her Japanese one, and both capture that slightly-snobby-lady vibe. Catholic exorcist John’s given an Australian accent (I think in the original he speaks Japanese with a Kansai accent, so this is trying to convey the “different dialect” idea); older assistant Lin sounds exactly like a serious man in his twenties, and Monk sounds not just realistic, but perfectly captures his ability to switch from casual to serious, joking to caring.

Naru’s voice stands out the most as someone trying to match the Japanese voice, because his has elements of trying to lower the voice (not trying to make it deep, but...if you’ve watched a lot of anime dubs, you know what I mean--sometimes male characters in Japanese have a low-pitched, semi-softness quality that we really don’t hear in American English voices, so it’s always obvious to me when someone is trying to do that in a dub.)

Visuals: I mean, it’s from 2006 so it’s not going to blow you away, but it’s not ugly.

Worth watching? YES. PLEASE. I’ve watched the entire thing through twice now.

I mean, there are flaws. Often the female characters are relegated to watching and guarding while the males actively attack or defend. Naru should be nicer to the teenager he employs. The anime came out while the manga was still being produced, so we don’t get to delve into characters’ backstories, but the series does at least end happily.

Where to watch (USA, as of June 2020): Funimation (sub and dub)

Click my “reviews” tag below or search “mini review” on my blog to find more!

[xoruffitup]

AITAF’s 11th Annual Broadway Show

It’s surreal that this was my second year attending and I’m sitting here typing up a second recap! It hardly feels like a whole year has passed since last November, as the time has been so full of Adam and SW-related joy. After last night’s show, Sarah (the same friend I adventured to TIFF with) and I reflected that following/loving Adam has brought us so many extraordinary experiences we would never have sought out otherwise. Attending military-oriented events and creating stronger ties with the veterans and service members in each of our lives, traveling to Toronto (and shortly to London!!) together, and cultivating the most unlikely and incredible friendships. It’s been an eye-opening, whirlwind year of new and wonderful experiences - chief among which was sitting in a theatre largely full of military personnel and having each of my preconceived stereotypes challenged.

The group I gathered with outside the American Airlines theatre was even bigger than last year. We had my friends Sarah and MP ( @reylonly​), my dad who usually abhors the “veteran” label and yet - to his own surprise - confessed to being deeply moved by last year’s show, a retired Army nurse and her husband, a cousin I hadn’t seen in ages who’s currently enlisted, and her two friends from the army. Our sizable group was first to queue up outside the theatre, with more than plenty to talk and catch up about while we waited.

(Fun/Amusing Fact: That enlisted cousin I hadn’t seen in ages? We reconnected ahead of this show when she messaged me on Facebook: “Hi! I heard from X family member that you like Adam Driver. I’ve attended AITAF performances before and I’ll be going to their NYC event, if you’d like to come as one of my guests?” Yes, that is my rep spreading through the family and you bet I’m proud. :’’))

We thought we had an idea what to expect from last year, but this year’s show surprised and took us off guard in almost every way.

After entering the theatre and passing right by Joanne (looking hella fierce in a fitted tweed suit), we headed up to the reception. Here came a surprise I was personally AMPED about!! While MP, Sarah, and I waited to go in the photo booth they had, we saw Scott Burns and Daniel Jones come into the reception area! I explained a bit in my TIFF recap post about how The Report (aside from being just a stellar film) really engaged me personally because not only do I have a human rights-related job, but the Executive Director of my non-profit is also renowned for being one of the first high-ranking whistleblowers against the CIA torture program when he previously worked in the Department of Defense. His name is Alberto Mora and after I heard Scott Burns namecheck him in several interviews, I talked to Alberto about his involvement in the film. From that conversation with Alberto came the idea to arrange a staff screening of the film, given its relevance to our nonprofit’s mission. In addition to seeing the film at TIFF, I also had the chance through work to attend the DC premiere of the film last week, attended by human rights advocates, House Representatives, and Senators (most depicted in the film - including Diane Feinstein herself!) who were all clearly riveted by the film and the discussion with Scott Burns and Dan Jones that followed. SO (sorry for this digression but I’M STILL SO EXCITED BY THIS) when I saw Dan Jones mingling, I practically started vibrating with everything I wanted to say to him.

After psyching myself up and angsting with MP for a minute (“But it’s gotta be the right time - I don’t want to interrupt him!”) I went over and introduced myself to Dan Jones, saying I’d been at the DC premiere of the film last week and how powerful the evening had been. Long story short - omg what a chill and approachable guy to talk to! I explained quickly that I work with Alberto and I’ve been looking into arranging a screening, to which Dan said he’d “absolutely love” to help with! He told me how to contact him and holy shiiiit now this definitely has to happen!!

So after that reception highlight, we ate a little more cheese and fancy crackers before heading downstairs to the theater and our seats. And there we needed to hold onto our hats and strain to remain chill, because like some Adam-related VIP guest list, we brushed shoulders with Noah Baumbach and Laura Dern as we entered the theater! WHATTT!! It certainly made my heart glad to see so many of these high-profile collaborators of Adam’s supporting him and taking an interest in his non-profit work. And just to see that they’re all friends even off set!

This year’s choice of play, A Raisin In The Sun, immediately set a much different tone than last year’s True West. While last year included a cast of only 4, with Adam and Michael Shannon lifting the majority of the performance as the brothers-at-odds Lee and Austin; this year included a cast of 9 almost exclusively African American actors, who would share the stage in a rotating balance. But before anything else... the show began with AITAF’s Director giving a rundown of their recent and upcoming programming, before she introduced Adam to speak. Annnnd out onto the stage he strode in a black suit and tie (pushing the boundaries of fashion for real) looking so striking and handsome my brain and heart jumped into an overdrive race with each other alsdfjslfjalsdfj :’)))) (Yes, the first moment when I see him in person still makes my heart fly up into my throat.) Most of the audience tried to leap to their feet to give him a standing ovation, before Adam quickly made some slightly panicked abortive hand gestures and everyone sat back down. We were seated so close to the stage that that proximity was really the best kind of intense <3333

First of all, I want to assure everyone that our bb does look like he’s gained some weight back. I think his face looked a bit more filled out than at TIFF (and boy did he fill out that suit just right). Adam recognized all of the active service people and veterans in the audience, thanked the actors and AITAF staff for making the evening possible, and gave his background speech on AITAF’s purpose, journey, and mission. He also spoke a bit about the play that was selected this year, quickly adding “I’ll let the play speak for itself rather than butchering it with my interpretation.” Everyone laughed and my heart was only barely beating under the adoration because at the same time I was getting such a good look at just how big he is, being so close... Not only the height, but the shoulders in the suit and the giant hands that fly around when he’s talking, then he stuffed his hands into his pockets for part of his speech and that just made him look taller and more attractive and alsdkfjalskdjf sir you should really take my health into consideration a little bit!!! ;___;

Fangirl feels meltdowns aside, there were a lot of other beautiful things happening on that stage. It was stirring to listen to Adam introduce the cast (and pronounce all of their names correctly, thank you) with all the deference this play deserves and a cast to do it full justice. In a setting where the audience was largely comprised of a military demographic that is often considered to embody more conservative values, it was poignant to see Adam using his platform in AITAF to push the narratives further and confront the audience directly - not with what separates people, but to draw out the humanity that makes us all so very alike. That is, after all, AITAF’s guiding mission. 

Skipping ahead for a quick moment - one of the actors in the talk-back after the performance brought up how difficult it had been to fund this play when it was first produced in 1959 because investors feared it was “too black” and wouldn’t resonate with audiences. Last night was the most blatant demonstration of how close-minded such fears were, as the almost three-hour long reading kept the audience entirely enthralled, caught up in the humor and the heartbreak and the enduring human spirit that keeps the Younger family’s pride and love for each other in tact; then followed by audience members standing up to share deeply personal and candid accounts of how they saw their own struggles with searching for identity and purpose between military-civilian spheres, and their own experiences of trauma reflected in these complex, lively characters. 

As much as I so enjoyed internally flipped my shit completely getting to hear Adam speak in person at the beginning, it made me more proud than ever to love him as I do when I watched him step back and pass the stage and spotlight to an insanely talented cast of color. AITAF is a force and space that aims for all voices to be heard, and Adam appeared only just enough to underscore and enable that last night.

I hope I’ve already made the point that the cast were simply phenomenal. This year’s performance felt completely different than last year’s in terms of the energy and mood. Last year, Adam and Michael Shannon filled two hours with simmering frustration and aggression that grows increasingly outrageous until it culminates in violence. Adam and Michael moved freely around the stage a lot. I’ll never forget Adam doing handstands, collapsing to his knees right at the front of the stage and his lush long hair falling everywhere (UGH <3), Adam yelling about toast and stealing TVs, barking like a coyote, and finally choking Michael in the final scene. This year, the 9-person-strong cast barely moved from behind their script stands, and yet the emotional impact they delivered was simply stunning. The immediacy of this reading-style performance is just incomparable. I do see a lot of theatre and really enjoy the medium, but watching actors like last night’s cast put on a performance that’s completely uninhibited - completely instinctive and raw - was simply unforgettable. It cuts straight to the emotional core and deepest layer of meaning within the material and the characters. There is nothing between the audience and the existence of these characters’ lives, and the actors lost themselves in the roles completely. It was simply breathtaking to watch, and I couldn’t be more grateful for the opportunity to witness it. Falling in to the Adam bandwagon truly enriched my life in ways I could never have expected

While on the topic of things I couldn’t have expected: Chief among them would be (to be painfully honest) voluntarily attending an event geared for military audiences - and even less enjoying and feeling moved by every second of it. I should probably clarify that although my Dad is a National Guard vet, he rarely speaks about the experience because he was drafted straight out of high school. The memories aren’t easy for him when he knows how close he could have been to being sent to Vietnam; alongside (he admitted to me for the first time following last year’s AITAF show) some amount of guilt towards the friends who were sent and lost their lives. My Dad has never embraced the veteran identity - he felt neither a right nor an affinity to it - and a military settings isn’t one I ever pictured myself feeling comfortable in. And yet, a single AITAF performance was enough to achieve their goal in my heart of building bridges and highlighting commonalities between military and civilian spheres. The military identify is multifaceted, and attending last year’s performance was enough for my Dad to unlock some new acceptance or understanding of that aspect of his own identity. It seemed to let him think of that period in his life in ways beyond antipathy or guilt. It was at least enough for him to open up and speak more candidly to me about his experience than ever before. 

This year’s Q&A was moving, deeply personal, and at times painful. And yet there was truly no better showcase for how a shared experience of theatre can serve to knock down all barriers that might have existed between people when they entered that theatre only hours before.

Highlights:

A man who recently ended his service spoke about how much he connected to the character of Walter Lee in the play. Like Walter, he too feels restless and unfulfilled in his (civilian) job, always feeling like he should be striking out for something more meaningful, something bigger, and never feeling right in his current place. For the audience member, this resonated with his own struggle to find meaning in his civilian life as he navigates the transition of leaving the military. This moved the actor who played Walter Lee (Colman Domingo, who had been TERRIFIC - I mean full-on crying several times throughout the reading) to speak about the personal inspirations and experiences he brought to embodying the character for this setting. Namely, trying to support his veteran older brother’s struggle with drug addiction. As Colman spoke candidly about how the experience with his brother had seeped into his performance, at least two other cast members dabbed tears from their eyes.

The most emotionally difficult and yet moving moment shared throughout the whole theater. A man in the balcony asked for advice on finishing a play that he began writing as a means of trying to process and work through unresolved trauma he experienced in combat zones while deployed. He explained with something of a despairing tremble in his voice that he’s reached a point where he feels emotionally blocked - where confronting the memories of comrades dying in his arms simply freezes him and he can’t seem to move any further. The theater was silent as he had to pause speaking for a moment, audibly overcome for a moment in the effort of speaking and sharing this aloud. Since the speaker was up in the balcony too far back for me to see, I was watching the cast and AITAF team on stage. Being so close, I thought I saw something visibly pass over Adam’s face. Later that evening, the cousin I just reconnected with at this event was the one to bring it up unprompted when she asked, “Did you see his eyes when the man was talking about his struggle to write?” So yes, it’s confirmed, I wasn’t imagining that Adam visibly choked up for a moment listening to this audience member. After the commenter was able to finish speaking, a few cast members responded. Adam, after being silent for most of the Q&A, then held his hand out for a mic and spoke up, telling the audience member something like, “In a way, you’re already doing it. You’re already writing. You’re already processing. I don’t think anyone knows what they’re setting out to write or how it will take shape until they do. But you’re already doing the hardest part.” Then, in a touching moment of connection, another audience member spoke up about a veteran writing group he’s involved with whose members seek to do exactly the same thing. The safe space the questioner was so dearly seeking did, in fact, already exist, and the people were there in that theatre to help guide him towards it. 

I didn’t think anything could have equaled my experience at AITAF’s 10th Anniversary show last year - and yet, last night was every bit as powerful of a performance, followed by a Q&A discussion in which audience members bared revelatory vulnerabilities and saw their own struggles through the eyes of others. My group went to a late dinner afterwards, where we continued discussing the performance, the dialogues thereafter, AITAF’s work in general, and (my favorite) gendered attitudes and embedded patriarchal norms within military settings and how AITAF challenges these norms even while being forced to work within them. 

It was an evening of connections of all types - between people, experiences, and insights. I can’t laud AITAF enough for enabling such valuable and productive exchange, and I hope to experience much more of their work in the future.

(And if performed with a showcase or even a side of Adam, that would be even better! <3)

Thanks so much for reading! : ))

[holographic-chogi]

Protector pt.7/?

Author: holographic-chogi

Pairing: fem!reader x stray kids

Warnings: swearing, unwanted sexual advances (not too intense). Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: So this is...very late. School’s almost out, but before that I aim to finish one chapter a week. Also I said a couple days ago that it’d be out but uh...yeah I was late on that too haha. To make up for it we have both GOT7 and (a little bit of) DAY6 action!! As always, I ADORE any kind of feedback and I love all the feedback I’ve gotten so far so feel free to tell me what you think, good or bad.

Summary: a virus has wiped out most of humanity, and society has collapsed. People survive in groups where they live in constant fear and a struggle to survive. Women were the primary victim of the virus, leaving few behind. You are one of the few, kept in secret since the beginning. However, you’ve just been caught. 

Masterlist

It was so packed.

You sat, squished between four people and the copious amounts of luggage and produce from the farm. It wouldn’t have been that bad if Changbin just sat up front with Hoetaek and Chan, but no, he insisted that it wasn’t safe enough.

You sighed, leaning to your right to rest your head on Felix’s good shoulder. He was exhausted, his eyes half-closed, and his breathing slow. You frown and begin to draw circles with thumb on his forearm, until a grunt from your left causes you to pull your hand away.

Changbin had insisted that he needed to protect you and Felix from “the potential threats we were taking with us”. Like Hyuna’s busted leg and Hyojong were any threat. Hyojong looked like he could barely even hurt a fly. The two of them sat across from you, squished together between a few burlap sacks. Hyuna had dozed off again, the moonlight illuminating her face, while her companion was curled up beside her with his nose buried in her neck. They seemed to really love each other.

Interestingly, every once in awhile you’d notice Hoetaek glance back from the front seat, his eyes landing on Hyuna before darting back to the road ahead. Chan noticed too, a smile reaching his lips whenever Hoetaek did so. At one point, Chan and you gave each other a knowing look. Poor Hoetaek.

You’re pulled out of your thoughts when your head is pulled from Felix’s shoulder and onto Changbin’s. You immediately pull your head away and look at him, eyebrows pulled together in frustration. He looked flustered for a moment, before he meets your gaze.

“His shoulder is injured, you should use mine.”

You cock an eyebrow, “I was on his good shoulder.”

He scoffs, “Well excuse me, princess. He’s still injured. Give him a break.”

You scoff this time, leaning back and crossing your arms. “Whatever, Changbin.”

You’re avoiding his gaze, but you see him wince from the corner of your eyes. He sighs before speaking again, “I didn’t mean that.”

You look over at him slightly, without moving your head. It was rare for him to apologize for the things he said. While it wasn’t technically an apology, it was progress. Despite your attempt to be stubborn, you couldn’t muffle the yawn that followed.

A smile crept from the corner of his mouth. “Y/N, I know you’re tired, just use my shoulder.”

You considered it for a moment, but despite your heavy eyelids, you weren’t about to concede that easily. He simply chuckles, before pulling your head back down to his shoulder, much more gently this time. You admit, his fleece hoodie was comfortable to sleep on. Before much time passed, you let sleep take over.

You wake up to the sound of a car door slamming shut. Groggily, you open your eyes and survey the area. Everyone, including Felix, had already exited the car, except for you and Changbin.

Upon hearing you wake, he looked down at you, a soft smile on his usually bitter face. You were so used to the vinegar that the honey made your heart thump in your chest.

He spoke in a soft voice, “About time you woke up, lazy bones.”

You chuckled, looking away in an attempt to hide the blush growing on your cheeks, “You didn’t have to wait, you could’ve just woke me up.”

He shrugged, “I didn’t want to. You look so nice when you aren’t pissed at me.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and his own eyes widened in realization of what he said. He cleared his throat before adding, “I didn’t want to deal with your whining from trying to wake you up. That’s all”. And with that, he stood up and leaped out of the truck.

You sat there for a moment, confused over what had just transpired, before you heard Chan call for you. You shook your head to get out of your daze before hopping out. You landed on a soft forest floor, and you looked around to see trees completely surrounding the dirt road. Jaebum and his crew were hidden well. You remember back to when your group at the cellblock had been searching for their hideout, to no avail. They never even bothered checking a forest.

You noticed as everyone walked the path that Felix seemed much more alert, and his shoulder didn’t seem to bother him as much. You smiled to yourself, knowing full well it was the result of your handiwork.

After a couple of minutes, you all stopped at the building in question. It was a beautiful temple, made from what appeared to be Japanese architecture. There was a sign in front, explaining it was a Shinto shrine and a Buddhist temple that had been built by the Japanese Cultural Society of Korea a couple decades ago. Even though the lack of civilization has clearly made it’s mark on it, it was hard to miss the beauty of the place. Part of the structure was in the forest, and the rest stretched out over the lake behind it.

Chan cupped his hands around his mouth before shouting, “Anyone gonna help me carry all this?”

You looked at him in shock, surprised at how casually he had spoken to the leaders of the district.

A voice called out from within the temple in response, you could hear hints of an American accent in it,  “Hold on Chan, I’ll be right out.”

Changbin giggled, before shouting back, “Have the maknaes help you out, old man.”

The front door slid open, and two men began walking out. One of them was breathtakingly handsome, except his nose was currently scrunched up in distaste. “I’m not old, you little shit.”

The one beside him had a hand over his mouth, trying desperately to cover his hysterical laughter. “Mark, you’re basically a living fossil.”

The handsome one, who you now know is named Mark, looked to the man next him, a smile creeping on his face. “We’re both twenty-four, Jae.”

They both sounded American, though the man named Jae had a much heavier accent. The two men finished their spat and looked back at the group. Mark’s smile vanished when his eyes landed on you. “Who is she?”

Jae looked at you too, his eyebrows raising in surprise, “Woah...you guys brought a girl?”

You looked at the ground, uncomfortable with the pair of eyes seemingly burning holes into you. Changbin seemed to notice, and stood in front of you. Chan spoke cautiously, “She’s been staying with us. We brought her here to meet you guys, and get her protected under JYP.”

Jae looked away and began to head inside, “This sounds like official leader stuff. I’m gonna go catch up with the others.”

Mark nodded, “Good idea.” He walked closer to you, shrugging Changbin out of the way and holding up a hand, “What’s your name, dear?”

You shook his hand and responded, “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

He smiled back at you warmly, “Nice to meet you too Y/N”. He looked over at Chan, disregarding the glare from Changbin. “Anything else I need to know?”

Chan awkwardly stepped aside, calling out into the forest, “Will you guys please come out now? Mark doesn’t bite!”

Hoetaek stumbled out first, walking over quietly with Hyuna hobbling behind him and Hyojong supporting her. Mark simply stared at them in disbelief before turning back to Chan, “two women? How is that even possible? I haven’t even seen one in months!”

Chan laughed nervously, rubbing his neck, “I guess we’re lucky?”

Mark deadpanned, “Are they staying with you guys too?”

Changbin spoke this time, resentment in his tone, “They absolutely aren’t.”

Mark took a deep breath and looked at the group. “Okay, I’m going to take Y/N and these three into separate rooms, where they will wait until we’re ready for them. Jackson and I will help you carry everything in and then we’ll wait for Jaebum and the rest in the main hall. Understood?”

Changbin stepped back in front of you defensively, “Y/N isn’t a threat, she can stick with us and the other three can wait inside.”

Mark disregarded him again, and offered you a hand, “Sorry Bin, but I can’t just take your work for it. She’ll be safe inside.”

You hesitantly took his hand, and he led you into the temple. Before entering, you looked back, and noticed the strained look on Changbin’s face.

Mark had you exchange your shoes for some slippers, before leading the four of you through several hallways. The floors were lined with tatami mats, and walls were filled with sliding paper doors. He left Hoetaek, Hyojong and Hyuna in a room first, before leading you further down another hallway, and sliding open another paper door. This room was also cluttered with tatami mats, but it contained several colorful pillows and an ornate tea set placed upon a wooden, floor level table. Mark pulled a match from his pocket and lit a few candles, before turning to leave.

You hurriedly spoke to him before could, “How long will I be in here?”

He looked back at you sympathetically, “It’ll probably be a few hours. Jinyoung left some books in here if you want to read those, to pass the time.”

You nodded unconvincingly, “Okay. I’ll see you soon then.”

Mark nodded, sliding the door shut before leaving.

You sat in silence for awhile, before finally looking through the stack of books in the corner. You recognized some duplicates from the farm, but all in all, this Jinyoung guy seemed to have really good taste.

You had been reading for maybe an hour before you heard footsteps in the hall. You instinctively held your breath, inching into a corner. It sounded like two sets of footsteps, and it was confirmed by the two distinct voices, muttering to each other quietly. They were giggling, although they seemed to be attempting to stay quiet. Eventually, the footsteps stopped outside your door, and you could hear one shoosh the other, before speaking in a very unique, higher pitched voice, “Hello? Anyone in there?”

You stayed silent, hoping they’d move on. The other one chuckled, before adding in a heavy accent that you couldn’t quite place. “We can see the light through the door. It’s made of paper.”

There was a moment of silence before the door slid open. A very tall man stepped in first, scanning the room before his eyes land on you. His smile sends a chill down your spine as he steps to the side, allowing his shorter companion to step through.

The tall one is obviously Korean, but the shorter one, like his voice, appears very foreign. However, you don’t like how either of them are staring at you.

The taller one speaks in a lower tone, “Jackson was right, the farm kids brought a girl.”

The foreign one walks up to you, before crouching down to your level, his face way too close for your liking. “Hello, little one. What’s your name?”

You lean back, attempting to make some distance. The taller one simply chuckles, “You’re creeping her out Bambam.”

Bambam looks at him crossly before returning his gaze back to you, “No I’m not Yugyeom, she’s just flustered, right sweetheart?”

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head no. Bambam just coos before placing a finger on your bottom lip. “It’s been a minute since I’ve been with a girl, and this one’s so pretty Yug.”

A blush began to grow on Yugyeom’s face, and you noticed that he also started to look a little uncomfortable, “I don’t think she’s into you Bam.”

Bambam didn’t seem to hear him, leaning closer to you, “Wanna go to my room sweetheart?”

Your eyes squeezed shut, fear starting to multiply beneath your skin. You could hear Yugyeom’s increasingly panicked voice behind him, “Bam I think you better stop, she doesn’t look into it.”

And moments after he spoke, the door slid open with notable force. Before you know it, Bambam is torn off of you and tossed like a ragdoll onto the ground. You open your eyes to see a panting Changbin, staring daggers into the foreigner. You let out a breath of relief and Changbin’s eyes dart to you, and his expression melts into concern.

Bambam’s on his feet in seconds, huffing in anger, “What the fuck Changbin?”

Yugyeom spoke from behind them, “I’m not backing you up on this one bro. You were being a creep.”

Bambam shook his head stubbornly, “No I wasn’t.” He looked down at you, “Was I?”

Changbin shoved him, hard. “Don’t fucking look at her. Get out.”

Bambam narrowed his eyes. “I might be your friend Changbin, but I’m still one of your fucking leaders. Do not talk to me like that.”

Changbin stared him down with equal gravity. “I don’t give a shit what you are Bambam. Stay away from her.”

Yugyeom stepped forward, placing a hand on Bambam’s shoulder, “He’s right this time Bam. You overstepped. Let’s go so you can cool down.”

Bambam shrugged his hand away and stormed out. Yugyeom paused at the door before looking at you earnestly, “Sorry about that. He’s just a horny idiot, he wasn’t actually gonna do anything. Sorry he made you uncomfortable.”

You nodded back at him, an uneasy smile on your face. Yugyeom nodded back and turned to leave, closing the door behind him. As soon as he was gone, Changbin whirled around and crouched down to your level, holding your chin as he scanned your face, “Did he do anything to you?”

You shook your head, “No, I shouldn’t have made such a big deal, I didn’t mean to worry you, Bin.”

He frowned and pulled you into a hug, rubbing your back like Felix has so many times before, “It looked like a pretty big deal to me.”

You froze in his arms. You were used to casual intimacy from the others, but Changbin was always so cold and distant. Despite your previously distraught state, you felt your breathing begin to slow. You reciprocated the hug, burying your face into his neck, “Thanks for showing up.”

He chuckled softly, “Everybody was waiting in the main hall besides Bambam and Yugyeom. No one knew where they were and I know how Bambam is with chicks. Sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

You sniffled a bit, trying not to cry. You were so touched. “Thank you so much.”

He pulled out of the hug, looking at you with an alarmed look, “Why are you crying? Did I do something wrong? I’ve just seen Felix comfort you so many times like this that I thought I should too I didn’t mean-”

You cut him off, “Binnie, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just touched.”

He smiled softly, looking into your eyes. You smiled back, and everything was lovely for only a moment, before Changbin’s eyes turned cold. He abruptly stood up, leaving you to feel a chill from the loss of contact. You stood up slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder as he avoided your gaze, your confusion overwhelming. “Ch-changbin?”

“We need to go see the others. They’re all waiting.”

His tone was so cold, like it used to be. He pulled his shoulder away from your grasp and fled the room, leaving you in your confused and vulnerable state.

The constant coldness from before was one thing, but this rollercoaster of emotions was much, much worse.

You wiped away a stray tear, finding it more difficult to stop crying. You muttered to yourself in a shaky voice.  “Asshole.”

[phaedrecameron]

The Accused, James Fraser Chapter 6 - 1026

Bloody hell!” Claire exclaimed as she sat in her downtown office. “Come in!” She yelled in response to the knock on her door. Dr. Joe Abernathy entered. He eyed her for a second and took a seat.

“You alright?” Joe asked.

“No, I just scorched my tongue on my tea.”

“And….”

“And I finished the Stephen Bonnet review, he’s a standard psychopath, not a sexual sadist.”

“And…..?” Joe inquired.

“And, why did you give me that case? It was completely straightforward from a review of the file. An intern could have made the call.”

“Because I felt you needed some straightforward busy work.” Joe leaned forward and grasped her hand.

Claire squeezed back and slowly let the air out of her lungs. Other than Geillis, Joe was her best friend. Joe had taken a chance on her; given her a job when all her experience and references were an ocean away.

“I’m getting a divorce.”

“Where’s my invite?” Joe asked, releasing Claire’s hand and leaning back.

Claire looked at him, confused.

Joe smiled, “Geillis must be throwing you a party? Getting rid of that much dead weight is cause for celebrating.”

Claire’s mouth fell open.

“Will there be black pudding? Gail loves that stuff; ever since I took her to Scotland last year.”

Claire scoffed and glared at him. Joe’s face broke into a wide grin. Claire felt a wave a hilarity bubble up. She tried to choke it down, but soon she was wheezing and crying with laughter. Joe soon followed.

“I cannot believe you said that!” Claire sputtered, reaching for a tissue.

“Claire,” Joe said suddenly serious. “I love you like a sister, but it wasn’t my place. But know you deserve so much better.”

Claire felt her throat tighten and simply nodded.

“I’ll have those transferred to Yi Tien Cho’s office.” Joe was pointing to the boxes lining Claire’s office. The boxes labeled, FRASER, J.

“What? Why?” Claire felt that odd hollowness in her chest; she felt it every time she thought of James Fraser.“

The DA filed death and Fraser’s claiming insanity, he needs another eval.”

“I’ll do it,” Claire quickly stated.

“Lady Jane, you got a lot on your plate. You know how protracted death cases can be. And the time commit…..”

“Joe, I’m already familiar with the file and I’ve met him.”

Joe looked unconvinced.

“Please, Joe.” Claire tried to keep the pleading from her voice, “I have to do it. I feel I might have missed something the first time. I need to see it right.”

***** Now back on the Fraser case, Claire felt better than she had in weeks. She’d been attributing her unease to the implosion of her marriage, but if she were being honest with herself, it had everything to do with Fraser. His case haunted her. His eyes. She’d been unsettled and confused after the eval. Then she was unsettled and confused about why she was unsettled and confused. It wasn’t her place to decide guilt or innocence. She knew people could commit heinous crimes without motive or warning.

Why should Fraser’s case be any different? But it was, dammit!

She’d been at this for years, she could sense darkness lurking in a person’s soul. James Fraser’s soul wasn’t dark. He didn’t make her feel afraid, he made her feel…well she didn’t know what she had felt, but she was done ignoring her gut.

Claire grabbed a hair tie, forcing her curls into a sloppy bun, and logged into the court’s docket. Fraser’s next court appearance was tomorrow and she would be there. ***********

The Next Day

John Grey couldn’t decide on a suit. Today would be James Fraser’s first court appearance since his new plea and the death decision.

He’d been mad as hell when he found out about the change in charges. He’d raced back to his office after Gowan’s ambush to find the elected district attorney, Richard Brown, waiting for him. “We’re going death. The facts warrant it,” Brown had said.

Right…. Grey thought. This was pure politics. If Grey secured a death verdict against a wealthy white defendant, Brown would take all the glory. If Grey lost, he’d blame Grey’s incompetence and torpedo Grey’s political aspirations. Well played

John sighed as he stood in front of his bathroom’s mirror. He didn’t know if the occasion called for a tie bar or not. His reverie was broken as Stephan von Namtzen appeared in his mirror. “What are you thinking about?” spoke the German accented voice.

John turned from the mirror where he was struggling with his tie. In the doorway, stood his on-again/off-again lover, Stephan von Namtzen. John and Stephan had met in Cologne, Germany during what Grey thought of as his lost years. The time when he had been exiled to Europe to avoid the near scandal that nearly tore his family apart. Maybe it had tore his family apart, thought Grey.

“Just thinking of office politics,” replied Grey over his shoulder as he turned back to the mirror.

Stephan was in Boston on business. He worked in his family’s successful paper producing company. It wasn’t glamorous, Stephan always said, but it paid the bills and let him travel.

“So, is this it?” queried Stephan.

“Huh?”

“This case, the ‘Scottish Whisky killer’. Is this going to be your flipboard into politics? You’ll need to find a respectable American husband soon.”

John laughed out loud at that. “Please tell me he’s not being called ‘The Scottish Whisky Killer’? I’m taking it one day at time.”

“Right,” said Stephan, clearly not believing Grey.

Grey grabbed his briefcase and headed to the door. He kissed Stephan on the lips. “Lock up when you leave and text me when you arrive in London. Oh, it’s springboard, not flipboard.”

****** John arrived just as James Fraser was brought into court. Fraser’s left arm and hand were heavily bandaged. Damn, what a waste, thought Grey. Even shackled and dressed in prison garb, Fraser was undeniably attractive. The thought of a star going supernova had popped in Grey’s brain the first time he’d seen Fraser. If this case went to trial, Grey knew he’d have to keep the women and men off the jury who would be swayed by Fraser’s looks.

After exchanging pleasantries with Ned, Grey took his place at the podium. He flipped to Laoghaire MacKenzie’s photo, staring at her smiling face. He flipped again to her crime scene photo; Laoghaire covered in blood, her eyes open and lifeless. And lastly, he flipped to her autopsy photo; body cleaned with more than two dozen knife wounds to her neck, torso, and hands.

“What the hell? What happened to his arm!?” stated a female voice from behind him.

Before John could fully turn around, he was set upon by Dr. Claire Beauchamp. It took Grey a moment to place her. He’d met her a half a dozen times, but gone was her detached demeanor and crisp-as-autumn eyes. In its place was a woman possessed. Her curly hair barely contained and her eyes predatory and hawk like. She looked almost disheveled. Of course she wasn’t. He’d just never seen her so…..impassioned. She was actually quite lovely.

“Excuse me?” John carefully pulled his sleeve from her grasp.

“He was supposed to be in protective custody? How’d his arm get broken to shit?”

Grey gaped at her. He felt like a worm about be shredded.

“Are you listening, counselor? I’d assumed you were better than these games? Are you looking for a lawsuit?

Grey felt his wits return and he turned to face her. “He did it to himself after he saw you.”

He watched her blink. Her mouth opened and then closed. She seemed to want to look at Fraser, but didn’t. Grey pressed his advantage, “it was no doubt a ploy for his insanity defense.”

John watched as she pushed her curly hair from her face. Her face was awash in conflicting emotions.

“I see. I…I apologize. I came to request all the latest information from your investigation. I’ve been assigned to do the eval.” John noticed her voice was tightly controlled and her jaw set.

Grey felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to stand. Seems he wasn’t the only one trying to puzzle out the Fraser case. What is it about James Fraser? He needed to speak to the detectives immediately.

“I’ll have them sent to your office.” John replied. “It makes sense for you to do the eval – judicial economy.”

******

Jamie sat in a small cell in the courthouse. He hated going to court. It was pointless, but he needed to see it through. He held up his left hand to the dull fluorescent light. It was heavily bandaged and itched like the devil. Ninety percent restoration of function with adherence to rehabilitation regime. That’s what the doctor’s had told him.

“Fraser, showtime,” said a guard through the bars.

Jamie was led to his seat in the courtroom. He saw Ned and John Grey. Grey seemed like a decent enough fellow. Maybe they could have been friends in a different life? He looked to his left and saw his sister, Jenny. Damn her, what is she doing here? He tried to ignore her. He looked again and almost laughed. She had a look of stubborn righteous fury on her face. He glared back. I’ll do what I think is best, Janet.

Movement caught Jamie’s eye. A Dhia, it was the curly wig sassenach. She was storming toward Grey. They began to argue or rather the sassenach was giving Grey a very thorough dressing down. She was gesturing and pointing at Jamie. He strained to hear. Once she’d said her piece, she turned to sit in the audience. She looked at him then. He tried to fight it, but there it was once more; that odd familiarity, the pull to want to be free.

[artificialqueens]

Black Leather Chapter 3 {biadore} - imafuckinglibra

Cluck Cluck Motherfuck. For the person who asked if there can be some smut in this fic…c’mon you know daddy will always supply my loves. Seriously though there originally was smut in the first chapter but idk it didn’t make it in the final draft. To make it up to you here’s some fluff, some smut and some Nirvana. Also unlike my other fics this shit is actually fairly planned out so…there will probably only be 2 more chapters…now is your chance to tell me what you’d like more of in this fic. K bye.

“Oh you bitch.” Roy laughed when Darienne, who he was walking in with their arms linked, pushed him into the pink wall.

He was in pretty much the same outfit as the previous episode but this time in a white polo shirt and brown blazer completely hiding his birth mark on his chest.

Shane and Dela entering with giggles behind them and slowly and silently Danny with a black bandana covering his mouth entered way in the back.

Underneath a black shirt with some dancing skeletons on and a pale red flannel he hid his birth mark too. It wasn’t part of their new arrangement with the producers but they felt more comfortable hiding it for the time being.

The two strange men that Duncan was with the previous day of filming were from the studio. Before letting them return to the hotel after the last episode they had called the couple aside into a strangely eery executive room.

There they, RuPaul included, made the new couple sign a disclosure with all the terms they’d previously discussed as well as a few new compromises.

They would allow the men to continue the last week of filming as if nothing had happened, the only extra benefit they added were allowing them to spend the weekend in the same hotel room.

They just weren’t allowed to discuss the competition of course, not that anyone really thought a new linked couple would have the free time.

The other new compromises were that the queens could be affectionate in the workroom if they pleased, within limits, as long as they allowed whatever was caught on camera be shown at the finale.

They would then dedicate a segment to their relationship and announce their linking at any given moment during it’s filming. Part of that meant Adore and Bianca would have to wear matching outfits.

Roy and Danny however wouldn’t be informed on when the segment would take place. This was to leave the element of surprise in making their reactions more genuine and organic.

They would also have to come back to the studios two weeks prior to it’s taping to film a quick interview of their life after linking and what it was like to experience something that intimate during the show.

Like agreed upon earlier however once filming had ended at the end of each day or when they were dedragging these rules no longer applied. They were then free to go about as they pleased until they got back to the hotel and were quarantined again.

The final part of their terms were that regardless of them being soulmates if one of them got eliminated she would still have to leave. The remaining queen would however get to keep a few of their belongings just for safety reasons.

Danny however had some concerns about the segment, he was afraid they’d manipulate too many things about their relationship for the ratings. He attributed this distrust in producers to his time on American Idol but Roy sat him down and presented him with some pros and cons.

Con, yes they’d use whatever footage they had of them being together for the finale. Pro, they could be together.

Honestly that seemed to be the only pro Roy had to explain because after that Danny happily signed whatever they presented them.

While they were being mic’d for this week’s episode however Danny had explained how determined he was to give them as little ammunition as possible. He was standing his ground. Hence the silently sitting across from Roy at the table playing with his nails.

Roy decided to test his resolve with this whole standing his ground thing and tapped the table to get his attention before anyone could speak. “That’s it fight the man over there fidgety.”

Roy got a couple of confused looks but he saw Danny’s eyes light up which made it worth it. He even pulled down his bandana to reveal a small smile. “Fuck all the way off.”

Roy kept an eye on Danny’s hands examining the skin around his chewed up fingernails that he had been picking at. He really was just a lankly ball of nerves sometimes.

“You are such a liar.” Roy rolled his eyes in response to Shane’s bullshit story about writing down his prediction of them being the top 5.

“I swear to god.”

“You are so full of shit.” He smiled, Danny now smiling too. When one soulmate was happy it was great, but when both were and they could both enjoy each others joy it was down right amazing.

“Well it was the best of a bad bunch really wasnt it.” Shane shrugged making Danny burst into his adorable soft giggle.

“You are starting some shit.” Danny finally spoke.

“Saved by the bell.” Roy gasped when the loud siren went off again.

When they got up to walk away he waited a minute for Danny to catch up, Danny grabbed Roy’s hand giving it a tug when he passed him.

“Love you.” Roy smiled at him walking away.

“Love you too. Kill it today.” Danny peered over his shoulder smiling at him, already in a better mood.

-

“Now, in the heat of competition a lot of unexpressed feelings can get bottled up…”

Roy’s stomach dropped and his smile fell. Shit

He knew the fact that he and Danny finally had a chance to get to stand together wasn’t just some crazy fluke. His luck was too fucked up for that.

Ru definitely had a hand in this, Mama Ru had brought something up during there little consultation about knowing too well what the torture of being separated from your soulmate was like.

Mama Ru has a soulmate though? This was new information that honestly was still shocking him.

Lucky for them maybe Roy’s luck wasn’t actually that bad - it was finally the much anticipated puppet challenge.

“Because everybody loves puppets.”

Rumor has it every time a drag queen says the now iconic quote Tammy Faye Messner not just rolls over in her grave, she sometimes even does a death drop.

Danny next to him was mischievously rubbing his hands together as if he was warming them up to avoid giving whatever puppet buddy he got a very cold, unpleasant fist.

He was definitely in MUCH better spirits by the way he made his way over to the big hole in the fake pink wall hopping over first looking like some crippled obnoxiously tall rabbit.

Peering into the hole first before he stuck his arm in he got Dela.

“Dela!” Ru announced.

“Yay.” He cheered shaking poor baby Dela’s head.

Roy strutted over next looking at Danny as he stuck his entire arm in hoping the further he dig the better chance of nabbing a good one.

“I have…Adore.” He growled her name deeply. On one hand this was absolutely fucking perfect but on the other hand he didn’t want to read his soulmate too harshly.

“Oh shit.” Danny nervously laughed.

The other queens went up next one by one making their way to the fake wall. Darienne got courtney, Dela got none other than Bianca, who’s mouth he clamped shut earning a laugh. Courtney obviously got Darienne since she was only one who was left, making a shady comment about the hole being big enough first.

The giggles muffled behind a pair of hands that Roy could hear coming from the giddy giraffe next to him made his heart flutter.

When Ru gave the girls the go ahead Roy and Danny playfully pushed each other’s side, Danny just being plain mean pushed him back to give himself a head start.

“So, Bianca, you giving it a nice hog body?” Shane quipped.

“Oh you think” Roy had a hint of a slight evil chuckle in his voice.

“You are so evil.” Danny looked over to him.

“Darienne you have Courtney’s costume together?” He quickly changed the subject. Not before he and Danny stuck their tongues out at each other though.

“I was hoping I could get someone else to make it for me.”

Roy let out a very loud animated gasp at the shade fest already beginning. He loved Darienne’s shady side he couldn’t deny it.

“Ooh…” Dela and Danny joined in.

“It’s interesting that Bianca, who could’ve taken any of us down, got the absolutely easiest to pick.” Dela decided to chime into the shadiness.

“I did get a easy one.”

“Um, shut up. What is that supposed to mean?” Danny whined in a higher than normal tone.

“It’s nothing bad you’re just basically already a puppet.”

“Ah!” Danny instinctively looked over to Roy clearly hoping he’d defend him but Roy stood his ground smiling brightly.

“That is so rude!”

“No you’re just really easy to imitate where as Biancas hard to imitate because I don’t listen to her.”

Danny gasped again looking back at Roy. ‘This bitch…’

“Oh my god.” Roy laughed more at Danny’s thought in his mind rather than the other queen’s comment. “Pipe down.” He snapped at Danny quickly blushing when he realized it was his annoyingly loud thinking and not something he actually said out loud. Woops.

Danny’s puppet of Dela was unbelievably precious making Roy crack up the moment he opened his mouth.

Playing it safe to avoid hurting his soulmate Roy followed Dela’s advice and turned his puppet of the already very puppet like Danny into basically a glorified caricature of him spitting out catchphrases in the most Adore like voice he could muster.

To nobody’s surprise Dela with her impeccable, big acrylic nail teethed portrayal of Bianca won. Even Bianca thought she was fucking hysterical, but she did make an mental note to maybe accidentally slash her dress before the runway.

The universe yet again smiled down upon the cuban queen proving Roy’s theory of his inhumanly fucked up luck wrong. They’re main challenge this week had Roy Haylock’s name written all over it. They had to make three runway looks.

Bangie girl bling, Platinum Card Excutive Realness & Dripping in Jewels Eleganza.

Roy was already at work and in his element sewing. The one place he felt most at home, in front of the whirring machine where he could create.

“C’mon diamonds.” The voice of Laganja took over Danny as he dropped his mannequin trying to stack him.

After Roy asked Dela if he was okay he walked over to the mirror to test his boat neck puffy frill over his shoulders.

“I like this…To start with.” Roy turned examining his reflection.

Roy turned to Danny asking silently for his opinion as he examined his work from a different side.

“That’s pretty.”

Roy turned back to him. “Yeah.”

“Fuck off.” Roy tried to hide his smile at Danny’s comment as he started hand stitching one of his accessories for his look.

When Roy started inquiring as to how Dela chose who to get what gem and why exactly she got sapphire, which he wasn’t mad about, just curious, Dela explained she didn’t really think about any of them. Except for Danny, she gave him the easiest.

Made sense. Danny was talented in many things but sewing definitely was not one of them, not by a long shot.

“Why not just give her cement shoes and throw her in the water or give her something really rough?” Darienne and her fucked up shady ways came through making everyone look up in utter disbelief.

“Cause shes not a evil cunt.” Danny intervened.

‘That’s my boy.’ Roy thought.

“I mean this is a competition.”

“So? Bitch! I wouldn’t throw you under the damn ocean?” Danny looked up. He made a good point it was just maybe a little…confused, but good

Roy’s protective instinct kicked in ready to defend his love’s honor and glared at Darienne ready to jump in but Danny looked over to him shaking his head. His way of silently saying ‘Down boy.’

“Am I being hateful by saying that?” Darienne spoke up again.

“No you’re being real.” Danny smiled, clearly having been raised right by his mother. Although from what Roy saw in the video she sent Adore and what he’s heard from Danny she probably would’ve been on his side ready to gut the shady elephant.

“And that’s what I am…I real.” Darienne channeled her best inner banjie girl swaying her head.

“And you’re real self…is hateful.” Dela added from under her table where she was working on her…gown? Bedazzled cardboard?

“Meowr.” Roy growled undeniably enjoying the drama.

-

During Ru’s visit Roy noted a heavy feeling in his chest, so unbearably heavy he was certain his heart would fall out any moment.

He instinctively looked up to Danny’s station and spotted him crying with his hand in front of his mouth, chewing on his nails to hide it.

‘Baby…’ He ceased whatever he was busy with, the idea of work completely leaving his mind being replaced by only the thought of comforting Danny in whichever way possible.

He could physically feel the discouragement radiating from his soulmate, his sorrow digging into his very being.

After Ru had lined them all up and explained the fact that the glitter ball had to be an actual ball with choreography and singing they were all fairly over it. Except when Ru dropped the bomb that Dela had to be in charge of choreographing it.

That little magical bit of information was a god sent that made everything about this ball worth it ten fold. Regardless that gnawing in his chest coming from his love’s depressed state didn’t ease up.

The girls were lined up set to be escorted to the empty main stage for rehearsals when Danny came up to him, grabbing onto of his wrist when he went to fall into the neat little row of queens.

“Hey there leaky.” He swung Danny’s arm in an attempt to lighten the mood, the younger just halfheartedly smiling the same way he did with Ru.

Danny slid his hand down to Roy’s interlocking their fingers. “I going home next, aren’t I?”

“Not over my fucking cold dead body, you’ll turn this out don’t worry. Come here, my angel.” Roy tugged on his hand easily drawing him in for a hug, Danny nearly lost his balance in the process but standing on one leg and with Roy’s help he remained upright. He gave his cheek a few speedy small kisses, smiling when he felt the corners of his mouth forming into a smile as wel. “There’s my favorite fucker.”

The gnawing in his chest easing and turning into gentle butterflies. Everything was still muffled but he’d began developing a system, kind of. Somewhere in the darkness he had found a flashlight if you will, using it to navigate Danny’s emotions flooding through him constantly.

Whenever he got happy it was like a soft tingling, for lack of a better metaphor, butterflies.

“Sorry for being so leaky.” Danny looked up at him pouting.

“Go be leaky under Courtney so the bitch falls on stage. Showgirls that hoe.” This made Danny genuinely laugh and hide his face in Roy’s shoulder.

-

“How you doin’ over there, Adore?” Roy asked after rehearsals cutting some fabric.

“So far I think so good.” Danny nodded. “I wanted to just drench this in diamonds.”

“Well you have a lot of rinestones?” Roy spotted the glass bowl of sparkling clear gems taking a break from his snipping.

“Kinda?”

“What about that pretty stuff unda’ your table?” He pointed with his giant pair of scissors to the bundles of sparkly fabric.

“That?” Danny followed his pointing.

“Yeah.”

“I was gonna use that to make a tutu but…I don’t know how.”

“Why don’t you gather that up?”

Danny looked up from where he was sitting with the fabric very confusingly smiling ever so slightly at him. “Gather it up?”

“Oh wait I’ll show you.” Everyone looked up knowingly at each other knowing exactly why Roy was really going over to him to help him but fuck them. “What you really could do is cut it evenly.”

“Mh-hm.”

“To a length…and gather it on top.” He held the fabric up against his dress where it had to go.

“Uh-huh.” Danny agreed in a nasally tone brightly smiling at him. Clearly not following as if everything was going directly over his pretty little head.

“Listen.” He scolded flicking his forehead.

“Thank you B.”

“You’re welcome.” He bent down to where he was grabbing the sides of his face. “Mwah.” He gave him a loud kiss and walked back to finish his own dress keeping an eye on his progress every now and then.

“You’re supposed to cut it in strips and just glue it like that right?” Danny asked motioning in the air with some oddly snipped up pieces of the fabric from earlier.

“Oh no…Not like that.” Roy cried out defeatedly from behind his sewing machine hiding his laughter.

“It looks ugly.” Danny whined holding the mannequin with the dress on up high in the air.

“It does.” He broke face at Danny’s bubbly laughing.

In the couple of weeks of filming the sweet sound had become his favorite thing in the entire world. Nothing made him happier than hearing that breathtakingly stupid sound.

“I don’t know how to make a fucking tutu!” Danny laughed turning in a circle with the leftover white fabric he previously destroyed covering his face.

“Oh…you mean like wrap it then…” He motioned with his fingers how Roy gathered it earlier.

Roy pulled a face he knew wouldn’t exactly be helpful in this situation but it was too ridiculous not to cringe at. Poor baby was absolutely useless.

“I don’t fucking make clothes.” Danny pulled the same face at him shaking his head and returned to putting endless sparkles on his dress’s coset.

-

“Alright ladies! 20 minutes, wrap up what you need to!” A crew member circled the queens reminding them of their time remaining till filming wrapped for the week.

Because they didn’t film on weekends, today being Friday, the queens had to wait two excruciatingly long days to present their ‘Dripping in Jewels Eleganza’.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Roy liked the part of the dress that he had gotten completed so far, the most important part was basically finished all it needed was some sparkles.

Danny had offered to assist him with it when they returned on Monday but he was concerned for his partner’s tutu and thus declined his help.

His diamond inspired dress didn’t look bad, on the contrary it was actually coming along great and he knew Danny would be looking absolutely enchanting in it. However he knew the judges were unpredictable and could tear anyone, particularly Adore, to shreds in a heartbeat like the vultures they were.

He took a step back to examine his day’s work hanging on the grey mannequin with his hands in his jean pockets, rubbing the small handkerchief of Danny’s that he kept there at all times between his fingertips.

So far it was a strapless smooth, satin like gown with not much detailing but impeccable workmanship. Earlier in the day he had already made what looked like the sapphire version of Danny’s tutu to place around his shoulders with a matching big puffy bracelet.

All he still needed to do was bring in the waist and attach a darker shade of blue belt…and then bedazzle the living Jesus out of everything but that could come later. As long as he had a garment, he was happy.

It was still more than Darienne had.

He shook his head in disgust at the hideous brown, bejeweled body bag Darienne was making and went back to his sewing machine to try and make aforementioned blue belt.

“Duncan!” Danny popped out of his station from underneath his white diamond dress like a tall meerkat. “Since it’s only like 20 left can we play some music?”

“Yes please?” Shane joined in plopping theatrically down on the couch next to his station by the wall of multicolored fabrics.

Even Darienne agreed that it’s been an exceptionally exhausting day and that he wouldn’t mind the small distraction.

“Sure…just this once because it’s almost the weekend, alright.” Duncan reluctantly nodded holding his hands up but they could all see the smile he was hiding when they excitedly cheered for him.

“I call dibs! Me first!” Danny nearly knocked poor Dela to the ground when he rushed to where his iPod was tucked away in his bag.

To no one’s surprise Danny picked a Nirvana song - Lithium. Roy was too lost in the zone to look up from his sewing machine and acknowledge what was happening. If he did he’d have noticed the younger queen holding up his index finger in front of his mouth to silently gesture to the others not to make a peep.

I’m so happy ‘cause today I’ve found my friends. They’re in my head

As the late Kurt Cobain’s smooth vocals filled the room Danny made his way to Roy’s station twirling slightly on the ball of his feet with every step in time with the song

Roy was startled out of his concentration when a pair of scrawny arms with a tattoo of a skull and purple roses were suddenly thrown over his shoulders and a gentle kiss was placed on his cheek. Danny’s lips remained against his dimples cheek as he sang the, slightly insulting I might add, words to him.

I’m so ugly, but that’s okay, ‘cause so are you. We broke our mirrors

“That’s fucked up.” Roy grumbled still focused on the deep blue fabric he was pushing through the machine’s fast working needle. “Can I finish this please? I don’t know how much time we left?”

The other queens looked up from their dresses with strange grins on their faces.

“What I miss?” He worryingly looked around, clearly everyone was in on a joke that he missed.

“Old age is making you deaf, Del Rio.” Dela joked going back to gluing her pink rhinestones and gems onto something that looked like a swirly pizza slice.

“20 minutes, babe.” Danny informed him before continuing singing along with Kurt. His arms now hooked under Roy’s biceps meeting in the middle around his chest. His chin rested on his shoulder next to his face.

I’m so horny but that’s okay my will is good

“Too much information, oh no! My ears!” Shane dramatically cried throwing his hands over his ears.

“Shut up.” Roy hissed in his direction before pulling the blue fabric out under the machine and continuing the rest of the seem with some hand stitching. Danny’s arms still clinging onto him swaying with the music as he worked.

This felt so natural, so at home. Regardless of the cameras and the practically still strangers they were surrounded by, sitting here doing what he loved with the person he loved against him just felt so right.

He had gone from admiring this young man, crushing on him from a distance to now being head over heels in love. Unable to ever see a future without him.

It wasn’t just the fact that they were soulmates it was Danny himself. Even if they weren’t soulmates he’d want to end up with him. His naive, carefree and down right fearless approach to life was something he had lacked.

He was a bitter old man, not old but 37 sure wasn’t a spring chicken, he never thought anyone would want to be with him. But Danny did. He made him feel appreciated and loved, almost needed at times.

I like it, I’m not gonna crack I miss you, I’m not gonna crack I love you, I’m not gonna crack I killed you, I’m not gonna crack

The song finally came to an end and so did the embrace Danny held him in. His eyes followed longingly after the man bunny hopping away, unable to resist staring at the ass as it bounced along.

“Bae!” Danny eagerly shouted looking through something on his iPod. “You done with that?”

“With this part yes, why?” Roy snipped the leftover thread off and walked over to where Danny was gesturing for him closer with a curl of his finger.

Despite the time warning it seemed nobody was in the mood to work. Roy was pretty much the only one still adjusting stuff on his dress but throughout the workroom it was just deserted gowns on mannequins with their makers resting on stools chattering amongst themselves.

“What’s up?” He went up to the table to check what Danny was fiddling with. Probably a song because when Roy reached him soft strumming came through over the speakers.

Danny smiled brightly and went to hug him without warning. With their hands held clasped to the side, Roy’s hand on the small of his back, his in the back of Roy’s jean and their foreheads rested against one another Danny started swaying them to the tranquil music.

Underneath the bridge The tarp has sprung a leak And the animals I’ve trapped Have all become my pets And I’m living off of grass And the drippings from the ceiling But it’s okay to eat fish ‘Cause they don’t have any feelings Something in the way

“You know this is that ammunition you didn’t want to give them right?” Roy tilted his head when he saw Danny reaching to kiss him softly. Longer than their previous rushed pecks. Their lips lingering a second to enjoy the contact.

“I know…I don’t care.” Danny whispered into his mouth.

“I love you.” Roy closed the space between their lips for another kiss.

He meant it. He loved Danny. With every molecule that made up his existence he loved this guy that only seemed to know the words party and fuck.

He nuzzled his head into Danny’s neck to get as humanly close to him as possible. To take in everything he was.

“I love you too…” Danny’s hand reached up to caress the shortly shaved back of his head.

Despite the fabric of their shirts between them Roy could tell their birthmarks were against each other by the stinging radiating from his calling to be closer to its matching one.

They continued disregarding everyone around them and finished the song. Die, Die My Darling by Misfits came on the shuffle next and Roy quickly ducked out claiming it hit too close to home.

-

It was finally time for their first weekend together, whoever in was that convinced the producers to let them get this chance was a god sent, although Roy had a sneaking suspicion it was Ru…

“You think they know I snuck in here the first time?” Danny asked trailing a finger around Roy’s birth mark.

“Nobody said anything and they wouldn’t have given us this if they knew. Think we’re good.”

After their dinner and showering Roy was laying down on his back with his head resting in his hands against the pillows. Danny sitting on his stomach like during their chase that lead to them linking.

Danny didn’t really seem like he had a plan or a purpose, his hands were just absentmindedly exploring Roy’s body. Running up his shoulders, over his pecs and back down his abdomen.

“You actually have a really fucking rad body.” Danny tilted his head.

“For an old bitch.” Roy snorted.

“Nh-yeah.” He giggled at Roy’s unamused face.

“Hey!” Roy slapped his chest. “I’ll fuck you up, Delano.”

“Pinky promise?” Danny licked the corner of his mouth that was forming into a smile. “You still owe me for the last time you said that.”

He raised his brows mischievously and with his hands on each side of Roy’s face he bent down for a deep kiss.

Their mouths meeting each other slowly at first, the tenderness in which Danny’s soft, full lips brushed over his setting his entire body ablaze. Every hair on his body raising as his skin flared up in goosebumps.

His tongue grazed against Roy’s top lip before he tilted lower and gingerly sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, sucking it into in his mouth.

They resumed their unrushed kissing taking their time in studying each other’s body without the looming fear of sneaking around.

With their lips still tightly locked the hands around Roy’s cheeks moved lower towards his chest. His mouth soon following behind peppering kisses down his neck to his sternum.

“A really. Really. Rad. Fucking. Body.” He emphasized each word with a kiss along his skin. Tracing his crescent birth mark with his tongue.

When his tongue made it’s way to Roy’s nipples the older’s breathing hitched. Danny looked up with a shit eating grin, “A-ha! Found your weakness.”

“Shut up fa…” His voice trailed off when Danny scooted down so he could roll his hips along the length of Roy’s growing erection while taking the other caramel nipple in his mouth.

His tongue twirling around the apparently very sensitive bud taking it between his teeth and pulling on it as he let go. Licking his lips as he scooted down further to straddle his thigh, his hand snaking down further as well onto his stomach.

“I love your little belly.” He smiled taking a second for his fingers to run over the slight fuzz around his navel.

“You’re one to talk, hogbody.” Roy joked, watching Danny roll his eyes sliding down his pants. Right, not the appropriate time or place. Got it.

The tip of Danny’s tongue licking along the small wet stain of pre cum through the charcoal grey briefs he wore made Roy’s eyes fill with lust. His entire body reacting to his touch moving his hips up to meet his tongue.

“And I love your dick, it’s perfect.” Danny admired trailing his index finger down the extreme tightness in the cotton fabric caused by his growing erection.

Even in the horrible dark lighting of the shitty hotel room the big hazel doe eyes staring up at Roy was glittering, pure magic. His hand came up to caress his round cheek, admiring the delicate features of the young man in front if him.

His hips rolling his own growing semi against the thigh he was sitting on following the same smooth rhythm of his hand stroking Roy fully hard.

“Fuck.” Roy let out a deep guttural moan when Danny pulled his foreskin down and wrapped his lips around the overly sensitive head of his cock.

Roy wasn’t joking when he said he really need to get laid. The competition had taken a severe toll especially with no release except for his own hand. I mean 5 weeks of filming and he’s only gotten action once in that time? That has to count as some kind of abuse.

Finally getting to feel Danny’s mouth was well worth the wait though. Roy scooted up so he could sit back against the wall, resting the hand that was caressing Danny’s jaw up to run his fingers through his short dark brunette hair.

With their new position Danny had to abandon his dry humping efforts, now on all fours with one hand resting on Roy’s abdomen he continued his bopping with his ass lifted in the air.

Roy sat up a little more so he could stretch his free arm out to slide along Danny’s back towards his ass. Sinking his hand into the tight grey sweatpants he wore to knead his soft ass while the other hand continued brushing through his hair.

“Wait.” Roy snorted as an attempt to hide his amused shock when he felt skin instead of the cotton he was expecting. “Wait, bitch…” His laughter came through a little more this time.

He got on his knees and made his way over to Danny’s backside pushing him down into the bed to lay on his stomach in the process. With one hard pull he yanked Danny’s pants off so violently it pulled him back up to his knees.

“Cute, not faggy at all.” He smiled pulling the strap of the black and grey jockstrap he felt earlier as far back as it could go. He let the waistband go and with a loud slap it hit Danny’s backside making him yelp.

“I like ‘em! Leave me alone.” He whined rubbing the red skin from the sudden snap.

“I do too.” Roy laughed kneading, admiring his bare cheeks. “Well I do now.”

“You do?” Danny leaned down to rest his face against the sheets. Looking back at Roy he bit his lip playfully shaking his ass in Roy’s face.

The older answered him by running his nails up and down from his ass to his thighs, biting at the baby soft flesh first before eagerly diving between his cheeks.

“Oh fuck yeah.” Danny growled sinking further into the white linen sheets when Roy’s tongue flattened out against his entrance.

-

“Do we have…” Roy’s thought trailed off as he dug through the bag Danny supposedly had snuck the condoms into. He had no idea how or where Danny got them but hey he wasn’t questioning it.

After nearly 30 minutes of foreplay he wasn’t questioning anything except how quickly he can find a fucking condom.

“Where the fuck?” He shouted throwing the contents of the stupid white drawstring bag Danny took on set out onto the grey carpet.

“We could just use spit again?” Danny shrugged.

Wait, was that really how they lubed him up the first time? Roy honestly had no idea anymore, everything of their first night linking was a surreal haze.

“Dirty boy.” Roy teased giving Danny’s ass a very loud slap. “You alright there?”

“Yep.” Danny continued lazily pumping the 2 fingers inside himself as Roy had instructed while he slipped the condom on, discarding the now empty square packet by throwing it over his shoulder.

Despite the effort Roy put into the extra precautions to get Danny ready, seeing as he wasn’t a bottom and Roy sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one doing it, he was worried of rushing him.

Not that it seemed like he needed to be. Holding Danny’s wrist of the aforementioned fingers against his back and with his other hand’s nails dragging up and down along his spine he let Danny push himself back onto his cock.

The younger hissing slightly when his ass reached Roy’s v-line, now fully enveloping him.

“There you go.” Roy leaned forward to lay down on top of him so he could get use to being filled while he kissed the back of his neck.

A few minutes later when Danny had fully adjusted to the tense stretching sensation of being penetrated Roy lifted himself leaving Danny face down with his legs closed so he could pick up his pace.

Roy’s hand was resting to one side of the flustered body beneath him while the other on his hip kept him pinned down. Every time his own hips thrusted back into the gorgeous ass he relished the feel of Danny’s tight unexperienced asshole clenching around him.

Definitely well worth the wait.

“Like that baby?” Roy pulled on his hip and readjusted Danny’s legs so they could be in a new position.

With Danny slightly sideways resting on one elbow they could keep a steady well paced rhythm while he reaching back held onto the side of Roy’s face. Their lips interlocked and their tongues dancing over each other exploring every part of their soulmate.

Growing more ravenous for the other person by the minute.

“You feel so fucking good.” Danny moaned into his mouth giving him the go to increase his speed.

Not pulling all the way out but enough that he could slide in fully again with quite a force he heard Danny’s soft moans soon turn into louder cries making their kissing difficult. He expected the naturally loud younger man to be vocal but not this much, not that he was complaining.

He noticed Danny’s hazel eyes looking slightly glossed over watering up and stopped to lean over him and pull his gaze up to his.

Wiping the single tear from the corner of his eye with the back of the hand he used to lift his jaw he placed a gentler kiss on his puffier than usual lips from the earlier sloppy blowjob. “You still good?”

Danny looked between his deep brown eyes and nodded with a subtle smile. In return Roy resumed his thrusting leaning forward to trail kisses down his temple to his jaw, biting the stubble free skin.

An attempt to help ease the new bottom, which worked better than planned.

“Fuck…baby, more.” The younger dropped his head increasing the volume of his praises that were perfectly in time with his soulmate’s increased movements that were now made easier after relaxing.

His teeth moving to his shoulders and along his neck to graze against the damp porcelain skin, careful not to bite too hard and leave any marks or bruises behind. If he could he’d permanently mark him as his own but not while they still had to walk to dreaded runway.

“On your back.” Danny reached around and tapped Roy’s sweaty thigh.

“What?”

“Your back thank you.” He repeated with a sterner ‘matter of fact’ voice.

Roy sunk his teeth into the soft muscle of Danny’s neck but Danny disregarding him sat up the best he could and pushed Roy down onto his back with his free arm. “Alright, alright. Bossy.”

His fingertips now on Roy’s jaw he bent down and brushed their lips over each other. “I love you.” His voice faint and sincere.

“Love you too.” Roy smiled going in for a kiss, a proper drawn out one, moving his hands to Danny’s thighs.

Now in control Danny rested his palms on Roy’s ribs digging his nails into the skin when he lowered himself back onto Roy.

“I got you.” Roy reassured caressing his smooth sweaty thighs, peering down between them to watch himself enter Danny again. The circular muscles stretching around him as the tip went in till it clenched tightly again when Danny tensed up and his legs trembled slightly. “Give yourself some time it’s all good.”

Reaching between then he steadily started stroking Danny slick pink cock. The younger releasing a low moan when he slid all the way back down thanks to Roy’s expert hand offering a very, very pleasant and welcomed distraction for him.

He wasted no time and slowly but surely started bouncing taking in as much of Roy’s thick cock as possible.

He wasn’t exceptionally long, surely longer than average, but he was thick. Stretching Danny’s tight asshole more every second.

Once he was well readjusted again he matched the pace Roy had prior to their switch moving his hands up to grab hold of Roy’s pecs.

His energetic bouncing making the bed loudly shake. The creaks from the old worn out springs of the hotel bed from years of abuse filling the room.

The sound mixing in with the loud slapping of their naked bodies meeting. Roy’s hand on the naked ass tinted red from his rough slaps earlier when he ate him out to help control his momentum while enjoying the view of his young lover brought to such a gorgeous disheveled mess.

His pale cheeks deeply flushed, his puffy lips swollen, his sweat drenched skin glowing from the cheap bedside table and his gorgeous cock bouncing between them.

The way the young queen licked his top lip as he leaned back resting his shakey hands on Roy’s thighs reminded Roy of the adorable way he licked it in the same manner when he offered him a waist chincher after snatch game.

Soon their unison heavy pants turned into louder moans coming from the younger when he increased his riding’s pace.

Roy’s hands ran down his sides feeling at every soft curve of his exquisite body and the little extra pudge around his waist.

Hogbody. Bullshit.

“You’re perfect.” He thought out loud. Danny leaned down to kiss him when Roy surprised him wrapping his arms around his back to press their birthmarks together.

Easily catching Danny off guard by flipping them so he’d be on top again. “Gotcha’”

“I love you but that’s mean. I was getting so close.” Danny whined dropping his head like a child while declaring his love.

“I love you too. So fucking much, but I did promise to fuck you up.” He bit Danny’s jaw.

Nothing felt as right as this, as absolutely earth shatteringly amazing as this. Linking with someone and getting to feel their emotions in itself was pretty mind blowing.

This was even better though. He could feel Danny’s orgasm building as vividly as he could feel his own. Not just that but on a more almost ethereal level he could feel the love Danny had for him only heightening his pleasure.

Sitting up on his knees Roy returned to smooth, slow idle thrusting to give them both a breather. Danny lovingly guiding his movements with his hands on his hipbones.

“I don’t think you’ve ever looked better.” Roy laughed at Danny’s disastrous appearance.

Danny threw his hands over his already red face turning brighter, so much Roy could swear he saw steam practically coming off his cheeks as he giggled.

Another reason he loved Danny. Reason number 70 million probably. Even during this intimate heated moment he was being the same little goofy idiot.

“Fuck all the way off.” Danny laughed.

“Oh yeah?” Roy cocked a brow, a devilishly wicked grin between those gorgeous dimples forming as he pulled all the way out.

Danny nodded eagerly with the corners of his eyes creasing revealing the smile he was hiding under his hands.

With an aggressive forceful thrust he slammed all the way back into his tight asshole, the hands hiding his blushing moving down to his mouth to muffle the loud cry erupting from his throat.

He repeated this with every thrust causing his grunting to grow louder, Danny’s tightly shut eyes and widely open mouth expression not helping in testing his restraint.

As soon as an almost painful whimper escaped his lips a surge of lighting shot through Roy’s spine straight to his cock.

This could only mean one thing.

“…Roy…” Danny’s voice cracked. “…I’m gonna cum…”

“How close?”

“Really close.”

He sat up hovering over him hooking Danny’s long legs over his elbows to lift his ass so they could kiss as he hammered into him deeper with the new angle making his hard swift thrusts easier.

Feeling the tension building inside both of them pushing him closer to their climax Roy’s own caveman grunts started mixing with Danny’s low cries.

“Ah fuck.” Roy disturbed their kissing nuzzling his head next to Danny’s biting his ear and trying to kiss his neck, which was made difficult by his strained breathing.

Everything turned into a blur. An astronomically amazing blur.

His hips pounding into Danny’s now even redder ass. The room filling with loud grunts, heavy panting, moans, naked bodies aggressively slapping together, the bed’s springs squeaking…All lost to Roy.

All he could focus on was the tightness building in his balls and the nails leaving indents in the tan flesh of his shoulders.

“So…so good.” Those were probably the last understandable words uttered before Danny became seemingly lost except for the whimper escaping with every quick thrust.

His eyes were squeezed tightly shut with his arms nearly choking Roy from the tight hold around his neck.

‘…Gonna cum…’. Roy heard his loud thinking hastily warn.

Roy felt Danny’s asshole tighten as the body pinned under him tensed up with a final barely audible moan right before hot cum shot between them.

The sticky liquid shooting out onto their abdomens between the bodies held clinging together from the sweat.

“Oh…fuck…Danny.” Roy could feel the minute Danny’s orgasm hit him. The ecstasy crashing onto him like a ton of bricks causing him to crumble as well reducing him to nothing as he followed only a second or two after Danny.

Their movements died down gradually after their orgasms and slowly Roy rose so he could look at the cum between them and admire Danny’s heaving young body.

“You’re such a messy slut sometimes.” Roy teased scowling at the cum, slapping his thigh. “High maintenance bitch.”

“Ouch-uh!” Danny faked an adorably hurt look by sticking out his quivering bottom lip.

Roy in turn kissed his way up Danny’s body till he reached the lip in question and gave it a bite. “Be right back. You want some water?”

“No.” Danny whined wrapping his legs around his waist to keep him from getting up. “Stay.”

“I have to get up.” Roy sprinkled kissed along his neck, resisting the urge to bite onto a chunk of it.

“Why?”

“Because.” He finally steadily pulled out of him and got off the bed. “Otherwise we might fuck the sheets up again.”

Danny went pale and rolled over hiding his hysterical laughing in a pillow that he pulled against his face.

“It’s okay, it happens.” Roy tried his hardest but failed to say it with a straight face. He bent back down placing a kiss on his right cheek. “I adore you my messy slut.”

[kyashin]

Voltron: The Fandom of You

Soooooo, hi. I want to talk about Voltron fandom, because I have some positive things to say about it. But first, I want to talk about due South.

due South is one of my favorite shows, and the fandom produced some of my favorite fan content. All around, it was a fantastic contribution to the universe. Well done, humanity.

For the uninitiated, the show is: Canadian Mountie Benton Fraser, the most upstanding and honest (and sarcastic) person imaginable, first came to Chicago on the trail of the killers of his father; and, for reasons that don't need exploring at this juncture, he remained, attached as liaison officer with the Canadian Consulate. It was a buddy cop show, and for seasons one and two, his cop buddy was an Italian-American dude named Ray Vecchio. Some people shipped it.

The show was canceled, and then, after enthusiastic fan campaigning, lovingly revived for two more seasons with Paul Gross––the actor who played Fraser––at the helm as executive producer. Unfortunately, David Marciano was unable to reprise his role as Ray Vecchio, so yikes! Now what? The entire premise of this thing was “sincere Canadian Mountie and cynical American cop shenanigans”. The solution was to replace Ray Vecchio. Literally. Like...in the show.

The first episode of season three has Fraser arriving in Chicago after a vacation in Canada to find this hot blond dude with a way different accent claiming to be Ray Vecchio, who is dark-haired and different-accented and just...you know...an entire different human being. Aaand let’s skip to the end of the episode where it turns out that Actual Ray Vecchio is undercover with the mob, so this new dude is gonna pretend to be him ‘til Vecchio gets back. New dude’s name is Ray Kowalski. People also shipped that.

But the fans who’d like, worked feverishly to get their show back on the air weren’t counting on having half the duo they wanted back erased from the show. !!!!!!!!!!!

Enter the Ray Wars. (Seriously, there’s a whole thing about them on fanlore.)

And a disclaimer: I wasn’t in the fandom for the height of the rage and fury, but I did saunter in as things were winding down, and even then some of the wreckage was still smoldering. That whole kerfuffle was Fandom Infamous for a super long time––and people who’ve been in Fandom long enough definitely know the Ray Wars by name AND reputation. For years, I’d see the Ray Wars held up by others as one of the ultimate examples of “intense fans” and just how Not Good a Look fandom can make for itself.

Here’s the thing though: the Ray Wars took place in the late 90s. No social media, no widespread understanding of fandom throughout the population. Fans were, like, on mailing lists and shit. The people who created AO3 were posting fic on web hosts like Geocities and Angelfire. Some people still called the internet “the web”, AOL was the gatekeeper to the internet things for a lot of people, and fans were figuring out that we could do ~*~*~*this*~*~*~ to make our user names look super unique and cool (not that I did that, just to be real, real clear). In that time, fandoms were very, super insular worlds with very tall, very robust fourth walls separating fans from creators and actors.

And for decades, these niche-occupying fans were accustomed to consuming very heterosexual content––shows and movies and comics and video games––and then writing whole-ass essays about how you could interpret this same-sex ship as legitimate within canon if you tilted your head 23 degrees, closed one eye, ignored the heterosexual ending, and stared long enough at these four screenshots from that one scene in episode 13.

You’d see flinches of contact between Fandom and The Established Source Material Creators sometimes. but it was rare. Anne Rice, for example, haaaaaaaaates fanfiction, and she’d go to great lawyery lengths to erase all she could find of it from the internet. Generally speaking, though, creators lived over there, and fans lived here, and we didn’t have much of an opportunity to interact with each other outside of, like, letters and conventions. There were still disrespectful fans, but you had to, like, make an effort to be a direct nuisance to the cast or crew.

Also, admitting to liking “slash” fanfiction as a woman back then got you “you just like slash because you’re too jealous to imagine your favorite male characters with women” at best and “that’s disgusting” at worst. ...Eh, there was probably worse, let’s be real.

So you can imagine the reaction many of us had when Paul Gross was interviewed about due South’s upcoming third season in 1997 and said of Callum Keith Rennie, the actor who’d play Ray Kowalski, “I tell you, slash fiction is going to go crazy when they see the new guy. He is really good-looking and sexy, the dangerous side of Fraser. It will be totally homoerotic.” THESE WERE THINGS AN EXECUTIVE PRODUCER SAID. IN 1997. KNOW WHAT ELSE HAPPENED IN 1997? ELLEN DEGENERES CAME OUT. AND THEN LOST HER CAREER BECAUSE OF IT FOR A LONG-ASS TIME. WILL AND GRACE WASN’T EVEN A THING YET (1998). NEITHER WAS THE ORIGINAL UK VERSION OF QUEER AS FOLK (1999).

Like, holy shit???

And the thing is? He wasn’t baiting. The show intentionally included a LOT of subtext between Fraser and Ray Kowalski, to the point where the last episode of the show showed Ray having a literal identity crisis because he could tell Fraser wanted to go back to Canada permanently and like, “who am I without him” and then the series ends with the two of them sledding into the actual sunset no I’m not exaggerating that happened WHAT EVEN WAS THIS BLESSING IN 1999.

Were they canon? Eeeeeh. Kinda? It was 1997, I’d call whatever they were groundbreaking, at least for me. And the reason I say it wasn’t baiting is because all Paul said was, “Slash fans will like this,” and many of us did. So, y’know. Truth in advertising. Well done, Paul.

AND NOW IT IS THE YEAR OF OUR QUEERS, 20gayteen, and SO MANY THINGS have changed for the better for LGBTQ folks in the last two decades. Like, Voltron fandom is WILD to me sometimes (in a fantastic way) because some of the fans are actually young enough to have been born after the AIDS crisis, after Matthew Shepard was brutally murdered, after Don’t Ask Don’t Tell––after all these horrible, devastating wounds were inflicted on our beautiful queer family. There are actually fans in Voltron who believe, without a sliver of doubt, that a same-sex pairing can and will become canon.

That’s bananas to me. That there is hope like that! Belief like that! Because I was born at the very end of the AIDS crisis and I didn’t hear the word bisexual until I was, like, twelve, let alone have enough of a support system around me to embrace that label for myself. B A N A N A S.

So of course––of course––there’s a part of me that hopes a same-sex pairing will happen in Voltron. Just thinking about how Dreamworks almost made Miguel and Tulio a canon couple in The Road to El Dorado in 2000 makes my heart twinge with disappointment. (Yes, Chel is great, but.)

See, I’m super attached to Voltron even when the writing is clearly stifled and bridled in by the people whose job it is to sell lots and lots of Voltron toys. I read klance fic and reblog VLD fanart and I have one (1) friend who also watches the show. We talk about it sometimes, and I throw fanart of Shiro at her because he’s her favorite. She doesn’t ship anything, and I am a cheerful little klance-shipping demon. I am in a fandom of two, and it’s pretty great in here.

But.

Voltron’s a lighthearted kid’s show about humans and aliens piloting mecha lions in space to save the universe from space colonialism, and while I will be dizzy with glee if a same-sex couple becomes canon in this show, I want it more for the intended audience of Voltron: kids.

I met a kid last year at Osaka Pride whose mother said, “He came home from school and told me, ‘I don’t feel like a girl or a boy,’” so this young mother brought her child to Pride to learn more about the community that her baby might belong in. And that lovely little human stayed on the fringes at first, apparently shy, until their mother told them, “Go on,” and then they spent the next ten minutes literally jogging around all the booths and beaming at everyone: the trans women in neon dresses cooing at how cute this little sunbeam was, the booth folks selling rainbow-themed merch, the couples hand-in-hand without shame or fear. And when they came back to their mom, they were completely carefree. And I thought, I wish that had been me.

And maybe it could’ve been, if every single cartoon I consumed as a child wasn’t coding gay men as villains, overtly implying that LGBT people had a direct link to actual pedophilia, and aggressively promoting heterosexual romance as The Only Acceptable Way of Love. If I’d grown up in a world where Ruby and Sapphire were on TV being happily in love every week, I might’ve realized what was in my own heart sooner than college.

So there is part of me who understands why people are so emotionally connected to the possibility of a ship like klance becoming canon. I’ve felt that urgent hope, that wild hunger, again and again and again and again in my life, and the only time I’ve ever had that hope realized in canon was in 2016 watching Viktor and Yuuri skate together in Yuri!!! on Ice. I cried. A lot.

I understand the emotion fueling the very, very bad decisions being made. In the simplest possible terms, the people who repeatedly harass the Voltron cast and crew are people who want a thing and are prioritizing getting that thing over the mental health of real people. I think it’s a symptom of internet detachment. When one is flinging words into a void, one doesn’t have to see how they’re received. Their actions––if I haven’t made it clear––are objectively harmful, and I don’t condone them.

But what I want to say––what I wrote this whole thing to say––is that Voltron isn’t a terrible fandom, and it isn’t the first fandom to have loud, overzealous fans who cross the line and make people inside and outside the fandom alike think, Yeesh they’re/we’re all lunatics. Voltron fandom is not The Worst, because I guarantee you if The Ray Wars were happening today, there’d totally be people on Twitter attacking Callum Keith Rennie directly for daring to replace David Marciano. It could have been so, so much uglier than it was, and it was already Bad.

In 1997, the fourth wall still more or less existed, and LGBT content––let alone respectful content––was scarce to say the least, so Fandom Discourse at the time remained generally contained to fan-on-fan unpleasantness. Today, that fourth wall is utterly gone, and I think all fandoms have to adapt to that and learn a whole new code of etiquette. LGBT rep is important, but there are respectful and effective ways to get it that don’t involve harassing the cast and crew. The voice actors and creators and crew of Voltron deserve basic human decency, and to be seen as people first and content creators second. It’s entirely possible for the majority of fandom to interact respectfully with the creators––it’ll just take time and patience, like most things that last.

So listen, everything’ll be fine. Try to have patience with each other. To quote a manga I’ve been translating: “There will be times in your life when you won’t be able to avoid being angry. Don’t make little things bigger than they have to be. Laugh and forgive.” Or, in this case, laugh and ignore. If you like a thing, awesome! Tell people! Or don’t! And if you don’t like something, carefully consider the consequences of what you do after you realize, I don’t like this. I don’t ship sheith at all, but for the last two years I’ve managed to leave alone the fans who do ship it and not send Shiro’s voice actor and his family angry, threatening messages. It wasn’t even difficult, guys. I just, like, read some klance fic instead.

I felt compelled to make this because I keep seeing posts from Voltron fans calling Voltron fandom a raging garbage fire and sure, there’re people playing near dry kindling with flamethrowers more than is advisable, but Voltron fans have created and will continue to create some beautiful content and friendships just for love of a show, and that’s lovely as fuck. If you’re feeling ashamed of your fandom and you haven’t done anything wrong, remember that you’re fandom, too. Keep being respectful, kind, and good. The terrible people won’t go away, but they won’t define the fandom for you unless you let them.

Be kind to each other, and things will improve.

And if anyone tells you your ship is bad, don’t talk to that person anymore, because that person probably has some dry kindling and a flamethrower.

And hey, if you’re at the end of this post and you’re like: Wow, this was way too short, and I would like to read more things this person has written, there’s always my Team Voltron-in-Japan AU. It has klance and Nyma/Allura and I enjoy writing it.

Wow, I’m hungry. Bye! :D/

[sejinpk]

Shit. It’s 1:42 a.m.

So, I should’ve been in bed quite a while ago. But, I’ve been really stressed and frustrated by a lot of the political stuff that’s been going on due to Trump and his administration, as well as just the general amount of combative political discourse due to my own conflicted feelings about it (more on that later). It’s nothing compared to what the people who are more directly affected are going through, but I want to vent and get some of this out.

(More of this will be unsourced than I would like. In going back to pull up where I’ve read stuff, I realized I bookmarked fewer pages than I remembered. In addition, I freely admit up front that some of my sources are not the cream of the crop when it comes to news reporting.)

It frustrates me that people are happy about Trump’s Muslim ban. Even beyond the fact that it’s wrong and goes against core American values of diversity and non-discrimination, it doesn’t make any sense. And the reasons people give as to why it’s necessary don’t make any sense. Even its implementation is based on nonsense.

Why ban people from these particular countries? In one of the few factual tweets he’s made, Trump said that there are 40+ Muslim-majority countries. This is true. Even if you account for an error of 10%, there are still over 40 Muslim-majority countries. As has been mentioned in various news articles, Saudi Arabia and Pakistan, the two countries which produced (most of?) the 9/11 hijackers, aren’t on the list. I read something saying that these are two countries Trump’s business does business in, but I haven’t confirmed it for myself.

How does that make any sense? 9/11 was easily the largest terrorist attack on U.S. soil. If you’re going to institute a Muslim ban, and attempt to predicate it on safety, why would you not include Saudi Arabia and Pakistan in the ban? You could argue that not targeting all Muslim-majority countries is proof that the ban is legitimately focused on safety, but what I just mentioned about Saudi Arabia and Pakistan not being included in the ban invalidates that argument.

Another issue is that it targets people who had already been vetted, such as the two men mentioned in many news articles, as well as green card holders.

Why target these people with the ban? The reason I’ve seen people mention is that our vetting processes are bad or nonexistent, and that our borders are just open to a flood of immigrants and refugees. This makes no sense, and is clearly based on wildly erroneous assumptions, not reality. You don’t even need actual data or sources. You can reason through this with basic logic, like so:

One of the fears that Trump has stoked is the idea that the vast majority of Muslims are terrorists. This is completely false, but for argument’s sake, let’s assume it’s true. The U.S. has been taking in Syrian refugees for quite a while now, many of whom are Muslim, as well as accepting non-refugee immigrants from various Middle Eastern countries, many of whom are Muslim. If the vast majority of Muslims wanted to commit acts of terror, we would be hearing much more about it than we do, either from (news reports of) numerous, continuous occurrences of attacks on U.S. soil, or from reports of numerous attacks being prevented. This is the media we’re talking about. As much as they’ve been painted as having a political bias, first and foremost they operate off of ratings, and this is something they would eat up in a heartbeat due to the number of viewers it would bring. Neither of these things (a surge in attacks or in prevention of attacks) have happened.

“But what if it’s planned out? What if they’re biding their time?” you might say. From the attacks I’ve heard about, both in the U.S. and in Europe, this doesn’t appear to be the case. If they were biding their time, if there was truly a “Trojan horse” plan in the works, why plan and carry out attacks as they have? Why not do nothing, and lull your enemies into a false sense of security?

I think this disproves the idea that the vast majority of Muslims are terrorists who want to do the West harm. But, again, for argument’s sake, let’s keep pursuing this under that assumption. If the vast majority of Muslims are terrorists, and if relatively few attacks have happened over the past several years, that means that the current vetting process is doing a really damn good job. If that’s true, why replace it (this is the Trump administration’s ostensible reason for the ban--putting immigration on hold while they craft new vetting measures)? Further, this will only sow animosity towards the U.S., which can be used by terrorist groups to recruit members and inspire them. The Trump administration’s rationale makes no sense.

Another thing that I’ve seen people who support the ban say, in response to arguments about which countries were targeted, is that it’s simply using the same list that the Obama administration used in 2011. This claim could very well be false. And even if it’s not false, it still makes no sense to simply reuse Obama’s list and measures from five years ago, and not update them.

Further, Trump has stated that he intentionally did not give advance notice about the ban to the people responsible for implementing it. In addition, some of Trump’s own national security appointments weren’t made aware of what was going on until right around when Trump signed the executive order. His reasoning was, “If the ban were announced with a one week notice, the 'bad' would rush into our country during that week. A lot of bad 'dudes' out there!” This line of thinking operates on the same faulty assumptions I’ve already discussed. If there were really so many “bad dudes” out there, and if our vetting was really as poor or nonexistent as Trump and his supporters claim it is, these “bad dudes” would already be wreaking havoc. They would have done it years ago.

Even if you take it in good faith (which I don’t) that the ban is non-discriminatory, the reasoning behind it is faulty, and its implementation is sloppy at best. Even if you look at it under the assumptions Trump’s administration and supporters have, and the reasons they give, it makes no sense. It has no basis in reality, and very little, if any, planning actually went into it.

And in addition to all the difficulties it’s putting refugees and immigrants through, this ban has really soured the reputation and standing (which wasn’t terribly good to begin with) of the U.S. with the rest of the world, increasing tensions with countries that are important allies in the fight against ISIS in the Middle East. It’s increasingly seeming to me like “America first” really means “America (and really only the highly privileged few in America) only, and fuck everyone else.”

It’s immensely frustrating to me to see people who support the ban being confronted with all of the stuff I’ve mentioned above, and literally just refusing to acknowledge reality, and coming back with generalized insults about “liberals” or “Democrats” and all of that nonsense (or heaven forbid bringing up “alternative facts”). And if the other person takes that bait, and responds with generalized insults about “conservatives“ or “Republicans” or “the GOP,” then the entire thing derails completely and people start bickering about completely irrelevant technicalities and other nonsense.

I’ll go into this more in another post, but what worries me about about this sort of thing, about the combative state of political discourse right now is that many people make these generalizations, which I think leads to this perception of half the country leaning one way, and the other half leaning the other way. And when you have entire groups of people vilifying other groups in tandem with these generalizations, it really feels like the country is tearing itself apart. Since perceptions influence our views of reality, we have people thinking that people like them represent a much larger portion of the population than is actually the case. And that perception also extends to people on the “other side” thinking that same thing, viewing the opposing group as being much larger than it actually is, and so we have people on the left accusing the entire right side of the political spectrum of being bigots, and people on the right accusing the entire left side of being involved in mass information manipulation, and each group treats the other like dirt. And so you have these combative overgeneralizations, which lead each “side” to not want to work with the other “side,” which gets us to where we are now in terms of having such strong political polarization in government and in society at large. Nobody wants to come to the table. Compromise is a dirty word. This is very detrimental to the long-term stability and functionality of the country and its government.

This worry is part of why I often don’t get very combative or vehement when expressing my views on social justice issues, even if I’d probably word things more strongly otherwise. But I’m conflicted about this because I do feel like these issues are important, and that not clearly speaking and acting out against bigotry encourages it. But if you have to get the other half of the country to come to the table for the sake of a functioning government and society, how do you reconcile that? One way may be to realize that it’s not half of the country. But if many people on both sides of the political spectrum do perceive it as half the country, again, how do you reconcile that? This is what I was talking about when I said at the beginning of this post that I have very conflicted feelings about the current combative political climate.

[thewebofslime]

“Mueller Finds No Trump-Russia Conspiracy”, read the front page headline of Sunday’s New York Times. Bit by bit, mainstream American consciousness is slowly coming to terms with the death of the thrilling conspiracy theory that the highest levels of the US government had been infiltrated by the Kremlin, and with the stark reality that the mass media and the Democratic Party spent the last two and-a-half years monopolizing public attention with a narrative which never had any underlying truth to it. There are still holdouts, of course. Many people invested a tremendous amount of hope, credibility, and egoic currency in the belief that Robert Mueller was going to arrest high-ranking Trump administration officials and members of Trump’s own family, leading seedy characters to “flip” on the president in their own self-interest and thereby providing evidence that will lead to impeachment. Some insist that Attorney General William Barr is holding back key elements of the Mueller report, a claim which is premised on the absurd belief that Mueller would allow Barr to lie about the results of the investigation without speaking up publicly. Others are still holding out hope that other investigations by other legal authorities will turn up some Russian shenanigans that Mueller could not, ignoring Mueller’s sweeping subpoena powers and unrivaled investigative authority. But they’re coming around. The question still remains, though: what the hell happened? How did a fact-free conspiracy theory come to gain so much traction among mainstream Americans? How were millions of people persuaded to invest hope in a narrative that anyone objectively analyzing the facts knew to be completely false? The answer is that they were told that the Russiagate narrative was legitimate over and over again by politicians and mass media pundits, and, because of a peculiar phenomenon in the nature of human cognition, this repetition made it seem true. The rather uncreatively-named illusory truth effect describes the way people are more likely to believe something is true after hearing it said many times. This is due to the fact that the familiar feeling we experience when hearing something we’ve heard before feels very similar to our experience of knowing that something is true. When we hear a familiar idea, its familiarity provides us with something called cognitive ease, which is the relaxed, unlabored state we experience when our minds aren’t working hard at something. We also experience cognitive ease when we are presented with a statement that we know to be true. We have a tendency to select for cognitive ease, which is why confirmation bias is a thing; believing ideas which don’t cause cognitive strain or dissonance gives us more cognitive ease than doing otherwise. Our evolutionary ancestors adapted to seek out cognitive ease so that they could put their attention into making quick decisions essential for survival, rather than painstakingly mulling over whether everything we believe is as true as we think it is. This was great for not getting eaten by saber-toothed tigers in prehistoric times, but it’s not very helpful when navigating the twists and turns of a cognitively complex modern world. It’s also not helpful when you’re trying to cultivate truthful beliefs while surrounded by screens that are repeating the same bogus talking points over and over again. I’m dealing with a perfect example of the perils of cognitive ease right now. Writing this essay has required me to move outside my familiar comfort zone of political commentary and read a bunch of studies and essays, think hard about new ideas, and then figure out how to convey them as clearly and concisely as possible without boring my audience. This movement away from cognitive ease has resulted in my checking Twitter a lot more often than I usually do, and seeking so much distraction that this essay will probably end up getting published about twelve hours later than I had intended. Having to read a bunch of scholars explaining the precise reasons why I’m acting like such an airhead hasn’t exactly helped my sense of cognitive ease any, either. Science has been aware of the illusory truth effect since 1977, when a study found that subjects were more likely to evaluate a statement as true when it’s been repeatedly presented to them over the course of a couple of weeks, even if they didn’t consciously remember having encountered that statement before. These findings have been replicated in numerous studies since, and new research in recent years has shown that the phenomenon is even more drastic than initially believed. A 2015 paper titled “Knowledge Does Not Protect Against Illusory Truth” found that the illusory truth effect is so strong that sheer repetition can change the answers that test subjects give, even when they had been in possession of knowledge contradicting that answer beforehand. This study was done to test the assumption which had gone unchallenged up until then that the illusory truth effect only comes into play when there is no stored knowledge of the subject at hand. “Surprisingly, repetition increased statements’ perceived truth, regardless of whether stored knowledge could have been used to detect a contradiction,” the paper reads. “Reading a statement like ‘A sari is the name of the short pleated skirt worn by Scots’ increased participants’ later belief that it was true, even if they could correctly answer the question ‘What is the name of the short pleated skirt worn by Scots?’” Stored knowledge tells pretty much everybody that the “short, pleated skirt worn by Scots” is a kilt, not a sari, but simply repeating the contrary statement can convince them otherwise. This explains why we all know people who are extraordinarily intelligent, but still bought into the Russiagate narrative just as much as our less mentally apt friends and acquaintances. Their intelligence didn’t save them from this debunked conspiracy theory, it just made them more clever in finding ways of defending it. This is because the illusory truth effect largely bypasses the intellect, and even one’s own stored knowledge, because of the way we all reflexively select for cognitive ease. Another study titled “Incrimination through innuendo: Can media questions become public answers?” found that subjects can be manipulated into believing an allegation simply by exposure to innuendo or incriminating questions in news media headlines. Questions like, for example, “What If Trump Has Been a Russian Asset Since 1987?”, printed by New York Magazine in July of last year. You can understand, then, how a populace who is consuming repetitive assertions, innuendo, and incriminating questions on a daily basis through the screens that they look at many times a day could be manipulated into believing that Robert Mueller would one day reveal evidence which will lead to the destruction of the Trump administration. The repetition leads to belief, the belief leads to trust, and before you know it people who are scared of the president are reading the Palmer Report every day and parking themselves in front of Rachel Maddow every night and letting everything they say slide right past their skepticism filters, marinating comfortably in a sedative of cognitive ease. And that repetition has been no accident. CNN producer John Bonifield was caught on video nearly two years ago admitting that CNN’s CEO Jeff Zucker was personally instructing his staff to stay focused on Russia even in the midst of far more important breaking news stories. “My boss, I shouldn’t say this, my boss yesterday we were having a discussion about this dental shoot and he goes and he was just like I want you to know what we are up against here,” Bonifield told an undercover associate of James O’Keefe’s Project Veritas. “And he goes, just to give you some context, President Trump pulled out of the climate accords and for a day and a half we covered the climate accords. And the CEO of CNN said in our internal meeting, he said good job everybody covering the climate accords, but we’re done with it, let’s get back to Russia.” (And before you get on me about O’Keefe’s shady record, CNN said in a statement that the video was legitimate and disputed none of its content, saying only that it stands by Bonifield and that “Diversity of personal opinion is what makes CNN strong, we welcome it and embrace it.”) Zucker, for his part, told the New York Times in an article published yesterday that he was “entirely comfortable” with CNN’s role in promoting the Russiagate conspiracy theory the way that it did. “We are not investigators. We are journalists, and our role is to report the facts as we know them, which is exactly what we did,” Zucker said. “A sitting president’s own Justice Department investigated his campaign for collusion with a hostile nation. That’s not enormous because the media says so. That’s enormous because it’s unprecedented.” “We are not investigators”? What the fuck kind of dumbass shit is that? So it’s not your job to investigate whether what you’re reporting is true or false? It’s not your job to investigate whether the anonymous sources you’re basing your reports on might be lying or not? It’s not your job to investigate whether or not you’d be committing journalistic malpractice with the multiple completely bullshit stories your outlet has been humiliated by in the last two years? It’s not your job to weigh the consequences of deliberately monopolizing public attention on a narrative which consists of nothing but confident-sounding assertions and innuendo? “We are not investigators.” So? You’re not dentists or firefighters either, what’s your point? That has nothing to do with the mountains of journalistic malpractice you’ve been perpetrating by advancing this conspiracy theory, nor with the inexcusable brutalization you’ve been inflicting upon the American psyche with your deliberate nonstop repetition of bogus assertions, innuendo, and incriminating questions. The science of modern propaganda has been in research and development for over a century. If you think about how many advances have been made in other military fields over the last hundred years, that gives you a clear example of how sophisticated an understanding the social engineers must now have of the methods of mass manipulation of human psychology. We may be absolutely certain that there are people who’ve been working to drive the public narratives about western rivals like Russia, and that they are doing so with a far greater understanding of the concepts we’ve touched on in this essay than we have at our disposal. The manipulators understand our psyches better than we understand them ourselves, and they’re getting more clever, not less. The only thing we can do to keep our heads while immersed in a society that is saturated with propaganda is be as relentlessly honest as possible, with ourselves and with the world. We’ll never be able to out-manipulate the master manipulators, but we can be real with ourselves about whether or not we’re selecting for cognitive ease rather than thinking rigorously and clearly. We can be truthful with our friends, family, coworkers and social media followers wherever untruth seems to be taking hold. We can do our very best to shine the light of truth on the puppeteers wherever we spot them and ruin the whole goddamn show for everyone. It may not seem like a lot, but truth is the one thing they can’t manipulate, whether it’s truth about them, truth about the world, or truthfulness with yourself. The lying manipulators got us into this mess, so only truth can get us out.

[fashiontrendin-blog]

Hollywood Barely Snubbed Ryan Seacrest, Because Of Course

https://fashion-trendin.com/hollywood-barely-snubbed-ryan-seacrest-because-of-course/

Hollywood Barely Snubbed Ryan Seacrest, Because Of Course

Ryan Seacrest, nary a Time’s Up pin to be found on his navy tuxedo, opened his 2018 Oscars red carpet coverage with a telling line: “It promises to be a very special evening.”

Despite the sexual misconduct allegations leveled against him earlier this week by former personal stylist Suzie Hardy, everything was business as usual for Seacrest on Sunday. While his female co-host Giuliana Rancic set up at the nearby Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, Seacrest parked on the red carpet ― no stage or special booth to prop him up, though. It was just him, a mic and enough celebrity traffic to sustain him for a few hours. 

In fact, despite the Me Too mood of other awards shows this season, more than a few celebrities made their way over to Seacrest for a quick chat on Sunday. There was something eerie about watching women like Diane Warren, Allison Janney, Taraji P. Henson and Tiffany Haddish talk to Seacrest as if the recent reports just didn’t exist. No one talked about the Me Too or Time’s Up movements; no one questioned the ubiquitous TV personality. 

Casey Affleck faced backlash for the sexual harassment allegations against him. As did Aziz Ansari and James Franco and Jeremy Piven. (The list goes on and on.) So why, or more so how, did Seacrest earn a pass?

On Monday, Hardy told Variety that Seacrest sexually harassed and assaulted her over the course of seven years. According to Hardy, Seacrest subjected her to many unwanted sexual advances, which allegedly included groping her vagina, grinding his erect penis on her and slapping her buttocks. She said she reported his behavior to E! News’ human resources executives in 2013 and was terminated shortly after.  

“As proud as I am and as strong as a woman as I am, as smart as I am and as much work as I’ve done with therapists, it really affected me,” Hardy told Variety.

Seacrest vehemently denied the claims, which first surfaced last fall. In a statement on Tuesday, the “Live with Kelly & Ryan” and “American Idol” host said, “Yesterday, Variety published a salacious story that revealed the specific claims against me for the first time ― even though an independent third-party investigator found insufficient evidence to support the claims. Much to my dismay, Variety didn’t speak with me or bother to speak with other credible witnesses or even ask for any of the evidence that was obtained during the investigation when offered, all of which clearly challenged the veracity of the claims made against me.”

Seacrest added that Hardy repeatedly offered to step back her claims if he paid her “millions of dollars,” which he refused to do. 

“I have worked extremely hard to achieve my success and I don’t take my opportunities for granted,” he concluded. “I don’t want to accuse anyone of not telling the truth but in this case, I have no choice but to again deny the claims against me, remind people that I was recused of any wrongdoing, and put the matter to rest.”

When asked if she felt Seacrest should still attend the Oscars, Me Too movement founder Tarana Burke told Variety, “We shouldn’t have to make those choices of, ‘Do we or don’t we?’ This is not about his guilt or innocence. It’s about there being an accusation that’s alive, and until they sort [it] out, it’s really on E! News and shouldn’t be on us. … It will let us know where they stand in terms of how respectful E! News is of this issue ― and of women.”

But both E! and ABC backed their prized possession, keeping Seacrest on the air even though murmurs were swirling from New York to Los Angeles. Should he still host the red carpet? Will celebrities stop to talk to him? Will he address the allegations on live TV?

He did show up; a few major celebrities did stop for him; and he didn’t address the scandal on “Live,” nor did he use his time on the E! red carpet to say a word about it. He swears he’s innocent, and it seems some people in Hollywood believe him. There were many ― both women and men ― who let him ask about their gowns, jewels and tuxedos, and smiled when he complimented their respective Oscar-nominated projects. 

Interestingly enough, though, once the bigger stars started arriving to the event, Rancic and her E! red carpet cohorts, like Kristin Dos Santos, Brad Goreski and Josh Horowitz, started enjoying a bit more live screen time. Producers seamlessly jumped between Rancic and Seacrest ― perhaps to avoid airing any awkward moments as E! struggled to get bigger names and supporters of Time’s Up. The network reportedly instated a live 30-second delay to, most likely, rescue Seacrest from any unwanted, public controversy.

Awkwardness made its way into the broadcast anyway. Some comments from pre-show passersby were positive, while others were confusing, and it all made for less-than-stellar red carpet content from the typically newsworthy E!.

“Baby Driver” star Eiza Gonzalez delivered some intriguing parting words when she ended her interview with Seacrest by telling him, “Be good.” (Sure, it could’ve been a choice goodbye phrase, but either way, it was heard.) Taraji P. Henson also threw in her two cents when talking about the amazing success of her friend Mary J. Blige, telling Seacrest, “The universe has a way of taking care of the good people, you know what I mean?” She gave him a smile and some side-eye. Was it a show of support or a slight? It’s anyone’s guess.

Others continued to praise Seacrest, including double-nominee Blige, who told him she “loves” him and acknowledged his chemistry with Kelly Ripa on “Live With Kelly & Ryan.” (Ripa also popped by to tell her pal how “great” he was doing.) Seacrest also thanked Whoopi Goldberg for stopping as she smiled and said, “You know!” 

Holy shit Taraji just put a curse on Ryan Seacrest 😂 pic.twitter.com/GSknn3NozF

— Sara Jean Hughes (@sarajeanhughes) March 5, 2018

ABC, who aired the live award show and their own red carpet pre-show, spoke with many A-listers and Time’s Up supporters ― those who Seacrest and co. couldn’t wrangle. 

Saoirse Ronan, Viola Davis, Mira Sorvino, Ashley Judd, Kumail Nanjiani and Emily V. Gordon, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Greta Gerwig, Gary Oldman, Mahershala Ali and Sandra Bullock, to name a few, chatted with the varied hosts, who asked not only about their films but Time’s Up and the current state of Hollywood. 

After failing to get any more stars to stop and talk, Seacrest headed to the Roosevelt and joined Rancic for some sad fashion discussion, which included a comment about the lack of green dresses and the prevalence of the shade of “nude.” 

Yet even though the Jennifer Lawrence and Laura Dern types didn’t stop for an interview with Seacrest, he still managed to do pretty well, all things considering. His first hour and change of coverage was solid enough, showing that both Hollywood and the world are torn on whether or not to believe him or his alleged victim. 

One reason Seacrest, a fixture in live TV and an established producer worth over $380 million, might have earned his spot on the carpet is because he is a part of the machine that runs Hollywood. He’s a boss himself, a power player in the ranks, a bigger success than most at the Oscars and a friend of many a celebrity. Seacrest gets a pass because he’s used to handing out the tickets. 

Me Too momentum seemed to building in awards season. Remember the Golden Globes? Black gowns and suits covered the carpet, and Time’s Up pins were prominently displayed as stars spoke at length about the powerful movement while standing beside impassioned activists. The tenor of discussion on the Oscars red carpet, or lack thereof, is telling. Was the movement another passing phase for Hollywood? Why did hosts and celebrities alike neglect to think discussions about sexism, pay disparity and harassment in the industry were appropriate for the night? 

Unlike the pre-show, the live Oscars show addressed the impact and importance of Time’s Up with a powerful segment highlighting the trailblazers, which Harvey Weinstein accusers Ashley Judd, Annabella Sciorra and Salma Hayek introduced. Those sound bites are what we needed to hear from start to finish. 

If only Laura Dern had made her way down the carpet to Seacrest and confronted him with a tough question. Maybe this would have been a different story. Unfortunately, male power prevails. 

http://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js

[blackstarlinebrewing-blog]

They told us we wouldn’t win...

They told us we wouldn’t win…

Last night and all morning, Ekua and I have been thinking about our experience at #bbsession, Brew Bound’s Startup Brewery Challenge. There’s so much to share and probably many pieces we’ll write about our experience. At the end of the day, we knew we weren’t quite ready to be on the stage. We’re not going to be in bottles or cans anytime soon, so we don’t have marketing that we could display on the stage. We can’t legally sell quite yet, because we don’t have the cash/financing, to get that stuff in place; so we’re in limbo. We can’t get a damn financing or know investors who will take a chance on us. The local CDFI is even like, “nah, we’re gonna have to pass homies.” Ok, that’s not a direct quote, clearly. Then, it’s like there will maybe, kinda be funding for less than what we need and we’re just gonna have to figure it out. No, these aren’t excuses, just the reality.

Going in to the competition, we didn’t have any more beer. Quite frankly, we stopped brewing because we couldn’t afford it. We had to use a store credit we had from past purchases to buy some ingredients. Our flagships, Stokely Stout and Dat Dere, couldn’t make it because we didn’t have the cash to produce. We, as always, transparently let folks know the realities and started to raise funds, but they didn’t come quite quickly enough. Those closest to us were hesitant to support because they felt strongly we would not win. So, we did what we know how to do when we’re up against a wall, undercapitalized, poor, and bootstrapping… we made it work. We turned three batches of beer in 9 days.

As far as we know, there’s never been Black women on the stage. There’s never been queer POC on the stage. We knew, no real start-up had ever won the startup brewery challenge at #bbsession. Most of the winners were fully capitalized, had tap rooms, were in distribution, and at a stage we’ve been trying to grow too. It was a risk.

The folks at the local CDFI talk about how we would make it being undercapitalized… well, as Black folks on this land, we always do. Manning Marable said it was Capitalism that underdeveloped Black America. Right… Undercapitalizing, not funding, holding the purse strings tightly, squashing the economic liberation of a people; is simply called genocide. It is by design that the institutions and systems have “certain rules and limitations” with regards to who has access to capital. Most simply, it is called racism. We know it is patriarchy, white supremacy, and the intersections of all the other interlocking supremacy systems.

Let me be clear: We are so grateful for the funds that were received! We would not have been able to be on the stage had it not been for the widespread community support, #grassrootsreparations, and love offerings. Thank you, thank you, thank you. We’re sorry we only got the silver but know, it was our full intention to come home with the Gold.

No, I know that had we received the full $2000 in advance of our trip, we would have won. Really, we needed $2450. But we would have been victorious - Hands down. Is it worth spending half of the prize to get the W?! Absolutely. Bringing that W home meant we could come back and not have to worry about getting evicted, which is now ever pressing in our minds. It legitimizes our work. It lends us credibility, and perhaps, it would have let the folks at the local CDFIs know that we’re actually worthy. If we had the cash, this is how we would have used it:

·         $150 would have been spent brewing our delicious flagship brews: Stokely Stout and Dat Dere Ginger Beer. These would have impressed both the judges and the crowd. There have been indisputably positive, overwhelming, and enthusiastic reviews for these two delicious brews.

·         $50 would have allowed us to make enough of the Ginger Brew botanicals for all of the conference attendees.

·         $350 would have allowed us to buy a jockey box so that we could have kept the brews fresh and served them fresh to participants, attendees, and judges. Admittedly, our head retention was super low because of the beer being in growlers for days. Since we’re on a budget (what an understatement), we had to pour the beer with us when we left NC on Tuesday morning. Not ideal for a competition where folks wouldn’t be tasting until 48 hours later.

·         $175 would have been enough for us to print our marketing materials, business cards, and make sure that we had them in time for the conference.

·         $250 would have been enough for our much needed logo re-design.

·         $750 would have given us the opportunity to have the mock ups of the bottle labels completed as well as much needed new swag so that we could appropriately represent the brand. Shit, it would have been nice to have some branded growlers instead of print-at-home Avery labels, that didn’t stick, on the growlers. There’s just some marketing stuff we need to tighten up.

·         $500 transportation – So, we needed an oil change, gas, and DAMN – NYC transportation is expensive!

·         $150 for food – We’ve been super frugal and have some “government assistance” that we can use as individuals to help offset our costs. So grateful for this social program right now!

·         $75 for spiritual supplies – Absolutely necessary. We would have loved to be able to build an altar at #bbsession. However, cash was tight and we were a rolling altar.

As is typically the case at things like this where either one or both of us present, they said we were the best. We had the best pitch. They were inspired. Some folks were in tears. They called us the “people’s beer.” Many folks were really apologetic and said that if they could have voted, they would have voted for us. Ekua and I (both collectively and individually) stood by the drinks being poured and listened to folks responses when they tasted our beers. They loved it. We loved the older white dudes saying “wow!” “This is good” “Haven’t had anything like this before.” “What is this? I like this a lot” “Where can I buy it.” Our security guard friend really loved hearing people’s responses and continued to give us encouragement throughout the day. After the pitch, he was very apologetic and encouraged us to keep going. He let us know we were the best and there wasn’t even anyone else who could come close.

 It was so odd to keep hearing these comments throughout the rest of the day and evening. Later, after folks got a bit more liquored up J, we found out we were second place. Some of the judges wish they would have known more information. We wish they would have asked.

 There was a moment on the stage where I was waiting for questions. I grew up in Bel Air, Maryland; in Harford County; in the suburbs. I went to all Blue Ribbon schools. I’m a woman. I’m a Black woman. I was waiting to be asked questions so I could respond. No one ever asked questions, so I sat silent. I feel like, ironically enough, Audre Lorde is kicking me in the ass… They were drinking The Lorde. “My silences never protected me…” FUCK! Then, I watched my male colleagues (mostly white) just start speaking and responding. What the actual fuck? Why didn’t I do that? Oh, right, I was raised to be silent, respect authority, and all that female subjugation bull shit. Wasn’t it the former Sales Manager Dan Dalton who told me not to ask for people’s time, just take it. Fuck, these dudes have grown up like that their whole lives and just created space to talk and interact with the judges. Why didn’t I? Fucking patriarchy. Shit.

 So we won silver. Cool. I’m really excited for all of the collaborations, partnerships, and opportunities that are on the horizon.

However, I can’t stop thinking of other Black women who’ve been in competitions like this. They ended up not winning the competition, were clearly the best, and made great careers. Look at Jennifer Hudson. The most successful American Idol contestant. She lost to a (closeted at the time) gay white man and  super sweet cuddly bear Black dude. Jennifer was clearly the best. J-Hud has gone on to establish herself in the industry and continue to push and inspire. Y’all know I love The Rap Game… Look at Nia Kay. She DEFINITELY should have won over Mediocre Mani (at best) and Keep it Together Key (I love you, Lil Key though). Nevertheless, she kept it pushing and is really becoming solid on the young rap scene. Of course, there’s my home girl: Deetranada. Dee had some challenges but needed the win. Nova, due to skill, arrogances, and his support crew, would have been able to make it in the industry. Deetranada inspires so many, grew so much, and really focused. But damn, she’s still on the So So Def tour.

Of course, there’s always the case of HRC – Hillary Rodham Clinton. After having to concede to the young Barack Obama in ’07, she came back kicking and did great things for our country. SHE WON the popular vote, after it has been confirmed that there has been Russian interference, and still she persists. Fucking badass. They told her she wouldn’t win, she won (but didn’t), and even in the wake of all these haters, including in her party, she continues to work tirelessly for a better place for all of us.

You know, this is not new. Black culture being told its second rate. Let’s look at “Living Single”. The white version of this became wildly popular and created stars. It was called, “Friends.” Or let’s look at “Waiting to Exhale.” I’ve never met a Black woman who hasn’t seen this movie. For us, it was a first. It pretty accurately captured our experiences. Of course, “Sex in the City” was the spin off. Our culture wasn’t enough, it was too different, too unique, and too authentic. But not so much so that white folks wouldn’t want to experiment with it and launch their own.

On the intentional sweetness of our beers: We know our folks. Our folks love sweet drinks: kool-aid, sweet tea, and so forth. How many types of juice or soda (Fuck high fructose corn syrup), do you have in your fridge right now, folks of color? The industry depends on us having this sweet tooth. Folks capitalize on us having it and have made our folks addicted through the harmful additives. We know this and want to queer this a bit. AND, we know folks love smoking and drinking. The bitterness of the cigarettes or other rolled sweets necessitates something sweet and refreshing. But again, it’s not their market or culture to understand UNLESS it can make them money. Here’s the secret: it can and it will. We’ll be the beer pioneers on this front.

This mindset of the liberal whites at this conference helps me to understand the mindset of those who voted for Trump against their best interest, right? They were and are so tied in to the system that they literally cannot conceive another way. The misappropriations of their power were astounding. The cowardice was something I could never truly comprehend. It’s like its easier for them to uphold the system that do something as so radical as voting with what’s in the heart. To contextualize: what’s the worst that could have happened if we won? Empowerment of Black, queer folks living on the margins? Affirming the dignity and value of something that’s unique and distinctive that the industry just spent an entire day saying it needs? Supporting the authenticity that was so vividly described in discussed in the opening? Or perhaps, just taking a chance. Folks take chances all the time, especially as related to our freedom and liberation. Think about the folks that voted for Trump just because they couldn’t vote for a woman. “It just didn’t feel right”, they said. I heard these people say just that as I stood with them for hours outside of Lenoir-Rhyne University waiting to see him.

Look y’all, folks talk the talk about being authentic. But when you’re Black, you can’t be too authentic or too real because you’ll scare whites. Right? The back lash to white folks realizing their privilege and their agency to be change-makers, is and has historically been to uphold the status quo. It’s frightening to be the ones to be change makers and quite frankly, most folks don’t have the courage. It was so fucking awkward to be at the after party and overhear folks talking (in their quiet white circles) about how they thought we should have won, how inspiring we were, what could they do, did they know *insert X fact that we shared*. This happens so frequently in situations like this. Where we could have won, did not, or where we could have received funding, or a place to call home, whatever!... and then folks find out more and are deeply saturated in their white guilt and shame. 5 people literally began to tear up and cry on that roof top. How was I supposed to hold space for their sorrow, guilt, and shame while still processing that we lost, juxtaposed with folks saying we were the best, the best they’ve ever seen, etc.? Uh, what? I think about what my father told me… it is these types of folks who allowed lynchings to happen in his home state of South Carolina. It is these folks who may have voted for Trump. And it is these folks that we’ll continue building with because this is our work and the work of #blackstarlinebrewing. This is the work we’re being called too. This is why its imperative for Black Star Line Brewing to exist now, to radicalize these spaces, and to help us (as our new friends at Good City say) “seek the good”.

And yes, it’s pretty awesome that we cranked out these brews, in 9 days, on our homebrew equipment, and got the silver. That’s fucking badass. So yes, they told us we wouldn’t win. But I’m certain they weren’t expecting us to get the silver!

 All of this to say, hell yes – we are so grateful to have been at the event, make connections, have a platform, and let the industry know we’re on the come up. We’re blessed beyond belief and never imagined even competing in something like this. We’re so grateful for the prayer warriors and those who held us in the light. Grateful for Gma’s prayers with Starla cooking in the background and Jo eating too many cookies. We’re grateful Bishop prayed over us and anointed us. We’re grateful my Pop (Larry) prayed fervently. My family held us in prayer and in the light. The community was on their knees, we felt it. Thank you. We’re so appreciative of all of the affirmations and commitments for collaboration, assistance, mentoring, and support. We’re following up with all of y’all! Black Star Line Brewing Co. is the new kid on the block and we’re changing the scene, y’all.

Well, folks kept asking “What’s next” for Black Star Line Brewing Co. Most immediately, we’re gonna figure out how to get this $ so we can pay rent and not be evicted. We’re gonna figure out how to get out here and start pitching more. We HAVE to figure out where this funding is going to come from so we can actually get out here and start brewing. Where are all these white, liberals, and progressives who voted for Barack Obama and Kamala Harris? Where are these kick ass beer folks who are so interested in transforming the industry and want to talk about diversity? Note: diversity is very different than inclusion or even intersectionality. Diversity is the polite white way to say we have a problem with all the homogeneity, and we don’t know how to fix it, but we’re afraid to do anything other than what we’re doing now, because there might be too much of y’all; what’s the minimal thing that we can do to not get ourselves screwed, sued, and look like white supremacists? And we certainly can’t have more of you than us! So help us diversify, good darkie.

What’s next is that we’re gonna continue to grind. After all, we’re a grassroots, family centered brewery launching a social movement rooted in self-determination, social entrepreneurship, collective economics, and our collective healing and liberation. We’re creating pathways out of poverty for folks, including us. We’re strong. We’re resilient. We are #blackstarline.