#this and videos not playing in full screen on dash is starting to drive me up the wall

[thementalistscandidate]

I love that the tumblr app has decided if I click on specific picture/gif in a ten+ picture post, what I really want is to be routed to viewing the first picture and the only way to see picture number 10 in full screen is to scroll through them all. Rather than. Expanding the fucking picture that I fucking CLICKED ON

[idreamofplaid]

Finding Destiny

Square Filled: Plus Size for @spnkinkbingo & Late Presentation for @spnabobingo

Characters: alpha!Sam x omega!Reader; Madame Tremaine (OFC)

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Y/N always felt like an Omega. Life told her otherwise, until tonight.

Word Count: 3027

Created for @spnkinkbingo & @spnabobingo

You smelled like a garden had exploded on you, a garden with some miscellaneous spices and nature smells. Truth was, you smelled like a mess, but you’d been desperate. Living as a Beta was like being invisible. 

You were convinced it didn’t help that your body wasn’t fashion model thin, or thin at all for that matter, instead having generous soft curves in your breasts, hips, and thighs. You had spent the last ten years watching Alphas and Omegas pair up, claim each other, shower each other with their love, devotion, and commitment. It had left you feeling more and more lonely, and food was your coping mechanism. The result of that was more pounds added to a body you already thought was too large.

Meanwhile, with each passing year, you felt more and more like life was passing you by. You, too, wanted to be claimed. There were no Alpha tendencies in your makeup; you were sure you were an Omega. You longed to be cherished, protected, filled with pups. Your untapped maternal instincts were strong, and you wanted to have a mate, be a mate. The Beta lifestyle wasn’t yours, so how had you been born into it?

Initially, when your heat didn’t come. You were confused, followed by disappointed, then discouraged, and finally resigned. Periodically, throughout all these reactions, you were devastated. The devastation overtook you when you least expected it, and then mercifully would leave again so you could function and pretend to be a happy Beta.  Had it stayed with you constantly, no doubt you would have fallen into a deep depression. 

It was that unwanted and sometimes paralyzing sense of hopelessness which always returned due to your Beta status that had sent you to the establishment owned by Madame Tremaine. It was rumored that she could bring on a reluctant onset of the first heat. That’s what you were once again trying to convince yourself this was, abandoning your previous period of accepting your fate. That’s all it was, a delay. Your body just needed some encouragement, a little push to get your hormones in motion. That first heat was going to happen; it was just slow.

So, it was in that frame of mind that you entered her herb shop at the end of a narrow street in an unfashionable part of the city. Wooden shelves lined the walls, filled with glass jars of various sizes that contained materials of every description. Dried flowers hung from low hanging rafters, and a display case that was filled with what appeared to be rocks and gemstones ran the length of one wall.

The bell over the door had tinkled when you entered the shop, summoning Madame Tremaine from the rear room of the shop. She pushed aside a beaded curtain that hung in the doorway leading to the back. She sized you up, her eyes traveling over you from head to toe. You were wearing a full skirt and a peasant style blouse. It was a cute outfit, but you still felt inadequate and self conscious about your size. For a moment, you felt a little pathetic because you’d come here seeking her help at changing what nature, God, the universe, or whatever had decided should be your lot in life. 

She was, of course, sleek and dressed all in form fitting black pants and a black shirt that emphasized her long, graceful arms and fingers. She had adorned those arms and fingers with turquoise rings and silver bangles, while large silver hoops hung from her ears. You were thinking of turning around and walking right back out when she said, “What brings you to see me tonight?”

You were determined not to stutter in spite of your nervousness. You could at least pretend to have a fraction of the confidence this woman so clearly possessed. “I’ve heard you can help Omegas with the onset of their first heat.”

She looked at you again. “How old are you?” You hesitated, not wanting to answer her question. You definitely should have left. This was so embarrassing. She lifted her chin and gave a wave of her hand, causing her bracelets to jingle. “Never mind. I’m sure I have what you need. It’s just a matter of finding the right combination of smells that compose your scent. Your body will then react with them and produce the scent on its own, triggering your first heat.”

For the next two hours, she had experimented on you with her herbs, flowers, and ground spices. She began with the flowers, explaining to you, “Very often an Omega’s scent includes a floral note. We only need to find the right one, then move on to the other elements.” It wasn’t tuberose, jasmine, violet, magnolia, or plumeria. She tried at least seven others before giving up on the flowers.

She moved to a particular row of jars with purpose. “Perhaps we should try something sweet instead.” The next round of fragrances she applied to your skin consisted of honey, vanilla, chocolate, coconut, sugar, and caramel. She was beginning to look a little perplexed, making you feel like a failure all over again. Not only were you unable to find a mate, now this wasn’t working either; but you needed it too. You felt like this was your last chance. 

“How do you know it isn’t working, Madame?” You had absentmindedly grabbed your skirt and started to twist the fabric.

“Because I’m an Alpha; I could smell it if you were producing your own scent.” Of course she was an Alpha, all the confidence. Her tone had been a little sharper than she had intended. You were, after all, a paying customer. She shouldn’t let her frustration show. Madame softened her voice and tried a different approach. Perhaps you are a more rare type of Omega without the usual sweet or flowery smell. Let’s give something else a try.”

Next she went for a smaller set of jars that contained spices and pulled some tiny stone chips that were near a larger blue stone from the display case. First, she used a mortar and pestle to grind the stone chips then added some rosemary to the bowl, grinding it up as well, and finally sprinkling in some almond oil to bind it together. Your curiosity got the better of you and made you brave enough to ask, “Why did you add stones? They don’t smell.”

“Ah, but they do; it is just very subtle,” she answered, “and sometimes just the catalyst that is needed to activate the chemical process that will result in you producing your own scent.” She applied this mixture to the inside of your wrist. Still, the result was nothing. After that, she went through the motions of trying a few more things, but you knew with each passing minute this had been a huge waste of your hard earned money. 

You left her store and practically slinked to your car, wanting nothing more than to get home to your favorite robe and a glass of red wine. When you closed the door with a heavy thud, your eyes landed on the gas gauge. Dammit. It was almost on empty. You wouldn’t make it home without stopping for gas. Perfect. There would be one more humiliation before this night was through. Gas stations in this part of town didn’t tend to carry out transactions through the pay at the pump method. 

Perhaps your tendency to be invisible would play in your favor this time you thought as you pushed on the metal bar to open the glass door leading into the gas station. Your last shred of hope at maintaining your dignity had been destroyed when you’d pulled up to the pump and found a sign attached to it just as you’d expected. Pay Before You Pump. Now you had to go into this store smelling like a cheap whorehouse. 

You made your way to the counter as quickly as you could, hoping to just put down your money, dash back outside again, get your gas, and go. You mumbled $30 on pump 3 and reached for your purse. That’s when you heard it, a voice that was just the right amount of deep and smoother than the honey back at Madame Tremaine’s shop. “Where are your apples?”

The guy behind the counter looked up reluctantly from his handheld video game. “We don’t have any. Sold the last of them this morning.” He turned his attention back to his game, and you turned to see who had spoken. What kind of face went with that voice?

The answer was the kind of face you saw on magazine covers and movie screens. The man with the sexy voice tried with the clerk again. “But I smell…” Then the gorgeous hazel eyes in that handsome face caught yours, and he tilted his head causing his golden brown hair to fall over his forehead. “It’s you.” His eyes narrowed a little.

Then something happened that had never occurred in your life. You were overcome by the smells of mahogany, champagne, and leather. The smell washed through you, entering every cell in your body, causing slick to pool in your panties, and your knees to go weak. You were beginning to sink to the floor.

The kid behind the counter finally put down his video game. “Lady, are you okay?” He was a Beta. He couldn’t smell any of what was happening two feet from him. 

The mysterious Alpha caught you. He held you up while he put two twenties down on the counter. “For her gas.” He helped you out to your car, got you seated inside, then filled your tank. He walked back to you when he was done and leaned down to put his hand on your shoulder. The smell was overwhelming now. It was heady, more than if you’d drunk the champagne instead of just smelling it. 

The Alpha kneeled in front of you. That magnificent voice had softened when he spoke to you. “I don’t think you should drive. I’m going to call my brother to come get my car, and then I’ll drive you home.”

Your head was feeling too light to argue, and there was a twinge of feeling bordering on pain starting between your legs. You nodded. “Okay.” Just like that. You trusted him, trusted him completely. It felt right what he was doing, taking care of you. 

You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the headrest. His voice sounded farther away, and you caught snippets of his conversation as you attempted to navigate all the emotional and physical feelings of your first heat. “Dean, i need you to come get the car.” Dean must be his brother. You missed the next part and then, “I’ll explain it all later. Just trust me. It’s never been more important.”

He returned to you and used that same soft tone he’d had with you before. “C’mon, let’s get you home. He lifted you like you weighed nothing more than a feather and carried you around to the passenger’s side of the car. He settled you in the seat and walked back around to take his place behind the wheel. Then, he turned to you. “I’m Sam.”  His eyes focused on yours again. “And you’re my Omega.”

You gave him directions to your house, and when you got there he carried you inside, across the threshold just like you were a bride. “Where’s your bedroom?” It didn’t seem at all strange to have this man you’d just met in your house, or to be giving him directions to your bedroom. You wanted him there. The idea of him leaving scared you a little bit. 

Sam put you down on your bed, and that fear bubbled up in your heart. You reached for him. “Don’t leave.” 

He took your hand. “I wasn’t going to leave. Just go outside the room so you can change for bed. Your smell is so strong. All I can smell is you. It’s going to bring on my rut. So, I should probably put some distance between us. But I’m going to stay. Make sure you’re okay.”

You squeezed his hand. “I’m not. I’m not okay. I need you. This is so…” A huge gush of slick ran down your thighs. You cried out. “Sam, please. I don’t know what’s happening.”

A look of concern shadowed his gray green hazel eyes. “Your heats haven’t been like this before?”

You had a nearly vise like grip on his hand now; it was starting to hurt, and you grabbed his forearm with your other hand. “I’ve never had a heat before. This is the first one.”

It took a couple of seconds for Sam to comprehend what you’d just said. Then a fierce, protective gentleness filled his eyes; he didn’t let go of your hand until he was on the bed with you, then he took you in his arms. “I’ve got you, my Omega. It’s gonna be okay. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

“It hurts, Sam. Why does it hurt?” This wasn’t what you had imagined it would be like to be an Omega. They’re had been no one in your life to explain it to you, and you were sure the books you’d read must be exaggerating.

Sam stroked your hair, trying to soothe you. “It hurts because you need an Alpha. Your body wants to be knotted. You need an Alpha’s knot.”

You held onto him tightly. “Will that make it stop?” 

Sam whispered, “Yeah, that will make it stop.” He kept running his fingers through your hair, and then he growled. His hand stilled; his body was shaking with the effort to control himself. 

His growling and shaking surprised you, and you jumped. “Sam, what is it? What’s wrong?”

He doubled his efforts to steady himself and stopped his shaking. “My body needs you too.” His voice was much more gruff than it had been before. 

You raised your hand to sink your fingers into his hair, just as his were buried  in yours. “Make it stop, Sam. Make it stop for both of us.”

While he was taking off your clothes, it didn’t occur to you once to feel self conscious about your lack of a flat stomach, the fullness of your thighs, or any of the other parts of your body you considered to be an imperfection. He kissed each and every one of them, while telling you how perfect you were. Your Alpha made you feel beautiful. 

The touch of his hands was so gentle, even while you could feel the heat radiating off his skin. When his lips first touched yours, it was like when the match meet the candle wick, and the flame sparks to life. Sam kissed you for a long time, causing you to produce more slick, getting you ready for him. 

When at last he broke the kiss, you looked into those eyes with the ability to change color; you saw into him, found that deep place where no one but his Omega would ever be allowed to go. “Were we meant to be together, Sam?” 

He brushed his knuckles across your cheek. “Yeah, that’s how it works.” His eyes held yours, “I’ve been waiting for you so long.” The smell of leather was stronger now. It signaled the depth of the lust he was feeling, mixed with the more tender emotions.

You put your hand over his where it was still resting against your face. “It’s okay, Sam. I’m ready. Take me. Make me yours.”

Sam put his hands on the inside of your thighs and opened your legs. His eyes never left yours as he entered you slowly. The stretch pushed you to the limits of what you could take, and you knew it was nothing compared to what was to come when he gave you his knot. 

He moved inside you with a gentle rhythm that heightened your passion and your need for him. When you started to roll your hips in time with the movements he was making, Sam reached between your bodies and started to rub your clit. He gave you exactly what you needed, and an intense orgasm came crashing through you. 

While your body was still in the spasms of its release, Sam’s knot began to swell. “Yes, Alpha, yes. Please.”

Sam took you in his arms and rolled you to your side to face him while his knot continued to swell. He covered your face with soft kisses. “Are you okay?”

You clung to him, still afraid you might somehow lose him even though his body was firmly attached to yours. “Yes. This is what I’ve always wanted. You. I wanted you. I just couldn’t find you.” Tears started to slide down your cheeks. Everything about this night was overwhelming. 

Sam wiped away your tears, kissed your temple, and whispered in your ear, “Shh. i’m here. I’ve got you now, my sweet Omega.”

You buried your face in his neck. The smell of the leather was receding now, blending back in with the mahogany and champagne. “Are you sure I’m your Omega, Sam? I mean I know I must not look like the other Omegas you’ve been with.”

He held you closer to him. “Yes, I’m sure.” You felt a fresh wave of his seed pumping into your womb. Sam put his fingers under your chin and tilted your face up to look at him. “You are more beautiful than any woman I’ve ever seen.”

You smiled, and a different kind of tears filled your eyes. This time they didn’t fall. You felt secure. You felt wanted, and you felt claimed even though he hadn’t yet put his mark on you. He would though. You knew it. Sam would claim you, mark you, and you would be proud for everyone to see it. 

Sam brushed his thumb over your chin just below your lip. “What are you thinking, my Omega?”

You nodded just enough to kiss his thumb that was beneath your lips. “I’m thinking you were worth the wait.”

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @sorenmarie87 @winchesterxfamilybusiness 

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @waywardnerd67 @fullmooner 

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision

The Marvel star takes us inside her transformation to a new kind of hero

GALLERY LINKS

Studio Photoshoots > 2021 > Session 002

Magazine Scans > 2021 > Grazia

  GRAZIA: Elizabeth Olsen is a trooper. We are in a field in Surrey on the outskirts of the Marvel studios; it’s a biting minus one and she is standing in a Chanel broderie anglaise sundress and increasingly soggy UGG boots. Her feline cheekbones face skywards, but Olsen is slowly sinking into the mud, trilling out high notes to keep herself warm (possibly distracted) and of course with spirits high. “It was the wind I think, that was worse than the sideways rain,” she jokes as we trundle back to the soundstage hangar that we are using as a studio. It’s the kind of moment that could go viral on Instagram, that is, if Olsen were on social media. Yet one of the biggest stars of our current cultural moment is completely offline – and that surprising fact might just be the least interesting thing about her. If anything, it is a sign of how Olsen has come into her own as a confident, decisive star with the power to create her own universe.

On the cusp of her 32nd birthday, Olsen is fastidious and professional, yes, but also bright, engaging, creative, and collaborative. Born and raised in the California sunshine, she is surprisingly at ease in the blustery conditions that deluge the English countryside in late January – or, it’s that she’s very good at acting. “It was one of the ugliest days of this winter – just hilarious – but I knew we wanted the shot,” the 31-year-old actress says.

Since October, Olsen’s been living in the leafy British countryside with her “man-guy-partner,” musician Robbie Arnett, just a short drive to the Surrey compound where Doctor Strange is being filmed. It’s a closed set, masked in secrecy as much as the socially distanced masked crew dotted all over the 200-acre studio. “It feels right being in a small city right now,” she says.

Indeed, Olsen is a modern-day Renaissance woman. Learned and dedicated to her craft, she studied at New York University’s Tisch School of the Arts, with a semester at the Moscow Art Theatre School studying Stanislavski. (Surely, no matter how much of a genius the Russian theatre master was, he never could have conceived of the Marvel universe.)

Approached with the concept of WandaVision, “I thought it was perfect for television, and a very original idea that made me excited,” Olsen says. Also, she was happy she would get to work with Bettany again: “He’s very precise, like me.”

In many ways, WandaVision is a love letter to the first American television heyday. Olsen, who stayed up late watching Nick at Nite reruns as a child, says it’s a bit of a homecoming in that way. “I was a very hammy, performative child,” she explains. “So, I do think I got to live out some sort of childhood dream doing the show.”

“The highlight was really getting to tell a story about these superhero individuals told in different decades of American sitcoms, trying to match the tone of those sitcoms in order to help orate the story,” she says. “But keep it playful and fun.” Little did she know just how much we’d need that.

Half-filmed pre-pandemic in Atlanta and half post-pandemic in LA – with a six-month hiatus in-between “until all the unions figured out to work safely” – WandaVision was released almost a year into the pandemic. In many ways, it is an artifact of its time: centered upon a yearning for the simplicity of earlier days, yet shot through with the creeping realization that such days may never return, and perhaps never existed to begin with.

Indeed, the weekly story of suburban superheroes Wanda and Vision has played out like a parable of our times: Wanda living in her chosen bubble, her trauma resonating in the world we find ourselves in today. Olsen appreciates a good metaphor, but feels people may be projecting a bit much. “I see Wanda as a victim of extreme trauma, who does not understand how to process it,” she explains. “She has been a human experiment.” (Not to belabor the point, but haven’t we all?)

Being summoned by Marvel is like being called to a parallel universe for an actor: thrilling, yes, but not without a tinge of terror and a dash of the unknown. Six years in, though, it’s become like family in some ways. As a member of two dynasties – Olsen and Marvel – family is key to Olsen. She checks in on her mom (who still lives in California) and, like many American daughters, is researching which vaccine mom should get.

The performative gene runs strong through her family, of course – and no, we don’t mean her sisters. Olsen’s mom was a ballerina. Still, when she first started auditioning, Olsen took special care to carve her own path – one far from Full House. “Nepotism is a thing and I’m very aware of it,” she says. “And of course, I’ve always wanted to do it alone.” She did just that, her acting credentials consistently rising as her sister’s cemented their fashion kudos. Olsen bears a noticeable resemblance to her fashion-designer older sisters and her sartorial DNA is similarly low-key. She loves The Row (of course) and NYC label Khaite’s denim and cashmere.

For Olsen, her day job is like playing dress-up. This time around, she walked away from WandaVision with the girdle worn underneath her 50s wedding dress, laughing, “I mean, to have a custom undergarment like that, I felt like it was necessary!” Her WandaVision co-star, Kathryn Hahn, also became her shopping cohort when filming.

“She’s dangerous!” Olsen says. “She has the most exquisite, minimal but expensive taste.” It was Hahn who led Olsen to the independent boutique where she found the belted Julia Jentzsch trench that she wore to our shoot.

At the rail of samples compiled by the stylist, Olsen gravitates towards a spacious linen boilersuit and longline cashmere cardigan. Has she always been a tomboy, I ask? “I think I felt uncomfortable being a child being told they were pretty,” she says of her early auditions at age 10, adding that her love of ballet and musical theater could leave her “feeling exposed” at a young age.

Speaking of over-exposure, Olsen is distinctly offline in a time when so many are defined by their social media presence. Among celebrities and regular digital citizens, the perfect balance of online and off is up for debate, but Olsen is clear: social media saturation is a choice for all of us, and everyone needs to draw their own boundaries.

“It has to be a personal decision, right?” she begins. “So, my opinion has nothing to do with what anyone else does or doesn’t do with it.” Her own journey began when she momentarily dabbled with Instagram (since deleted), while filming Ingrid Goes West, director Matt Spicer’s frightening and funny debut feature about a social stalker, co-starring Aubrey Plaza.

Up until that time, she says, “I had never touched it before. I thought, ‘This is an interesting social experiment for myself, to see if it is a good source to talk about charities or a good source to talk about small projects, or to share something goofier about myself.’ But I think at the end of the day, what I discovered was one, I’m really bad at creating a perceived identity!”

“I didn’t find it very organic to who I am as a person,” she continues. “I found some joy in putting up silly videos, but I think the main reason I stopped – not I think, I know the main reason why I stopped – was because of the organization in my brain.”

“Lots of horrible things happen all the time. Or, lots of great things happen all the time. Whether it’s something terrifying, like a natural disaster or a school shooting or a death, there are so many things that happen, and I love processing information. I love reading articles. I love listening to podcasts. I love communicating about things that are happening in the world to people around me. And what I don’t love is that my brain organization was saying, ‘Should I post about this?’ That seemed very unhealthy ….”

“And to then contribute to these platitudes that I don’t really love, you have to subscribe to two different ways of thinking,” she says. “So, I didn’t like that, and there was a lot of it that was just bothering me for my own sake of what value systems I have.”

That’s not to say that there’s any inherent value system – pro or con – in using Instagram. Olsen is clear that like any other method of expression, it’s up to the individual to use it as they see fit. “I do see a use of it and how you can use it well for work,” she says. “But I don’t think that I would like to use that tool to promote myself.��

She’s private for a millennial yes, but not prim. On the photoshoot, lockdown experiences were shared, and Olsen recounted her (hilarious) first at-home bikini wax: banishing her husband upstairs “for an extended chat with his therapist,” her trusted waxer on speed dial, and microwave set to ping! (Yes, Olsen is a trooper, as I mentioned.)

We catch up over Zoom a week later, her hair once again pulled up in a casual topknot, her cashmere turtleneck simmering in a dark claret, and her entire being suffused with covetable understatement. She chats buoyantly against an unexpected backdrop of pirate ship wallpaper in the playroom of a house she shares with Arnett, who proposed with an emerald and diamond ring in 2019.

“We first started to try to make it the gym, but it was so cramped,” she says of the jolly space. The home gym was instead awarded a larger room, where Olsen loves to maintain a varied fitness regime – running, yoga, dancing, more – though after all the intense Marvel filming, she jokes, “maybe it’s time to give up on my body?!” Being comic book fit does sound grueling or “time-consuming fun” as she anoints the “strenuous physical demands.”

Like most of us, she is longing for the spring, but she still takes a regular constitutional walk in a nearby Richmond park, whatever the weather. “The deer are incredible; every time I see them I feel alive,” she says. “We have been lucky to have nature around us in lockdown.” It’s a marked difference from her paparazzi-populated home in the Hills. “They know our walks, where we get coffee, work-out…,” she trails off.

Her haven in Los Angeles is her backyard, complete with a mid-century swimming pool and an edible garden. “It’s crazy the blackberries grow like weeds! I love watching a kid’s first reaction to an edible garden,” she gushes That has been the part of the pandemic travel restrictions she’s found hardest: missing her friend’s children growing up, and others who have been born this past year that she’s yet to meet. They will no doubt all be treated to her homemade blackberry sorbet on her return stateside.

Yet, her time on British soil will likely be prolonged, with a prospective indie commencing filming here when Doctor Strange wraps. Prompted for more detail, her firm charm kicks in. “I can’t jinx it!” she insists. Still, she will share that she’s heavily involved in the creative, and that funding smaller productions in the current climate has been a challenge.

Through it all, Olsen has remained determined and calm. “I feel patience is my superpower. But my weakness also,” she says. “I feel like it gets tested more than others who don’t have a lot of patience. If someone learns you’re easygoing or that you’re relaxed, sometimes it gets taken advantage of.” While she waits for the green light on that film, she is busy producing a new children’s cartoon with Arnett, “about loving and caring for our world,” and has also written a children’s book about to be published by Random House, all while the demands of Marvel life continue to surround her.

Indeed, Olsen is a superhero for the modern age: Multi-hyphenate, but fiercely devoted to the craft that she loves; instantly recognizable, yet thoughtfully protective of her private life; a woman with style, substance, success, and deep rewarding relationships with those around her; focused on a vision of a better world for us all.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen’s 20/21 Vision was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[hajimes-erect-ahoge]

Death Should Not Have Taken Thee!- Chapter 1

Shuichi Saihara. 22. College graduate. Works at his uncle's detective agency. Known on MonoQuest as Blueberry97.

Kokichi Ouma. 23. Didn't go to college. Works at the local supermarket. Known on MonoQuest as Princesex69.

Both boys live in the same town but have never met, due to their different backgrounds. However, they play a popular MMORPG called MonoQuest together, and become guild partners for almost a year. When Blueberry97 asks to meet Princesex69 in real life, they find out more about each other than they had ever expected.

Also, Ouma's MonoQuest avatar is a girl. Confusion ensues.

~~~~~~~~~~

An MMO au based off of adiazrue's au on instagram! Please go check out their art it's amazing!

Check out my Tumblr @hajimes-erect-ahoge for updates and if you want to talk ideas! (please talk to me about this fic i have no idea where I'm going with this lol)

don't take the title too seriously no one's gonna die I just wanted to do a vocaloid reference

ao3

9:57 pm.

Ouma groaned as he looked at his watch, anxiously waiting until his shift ended. Just three more minutes and he would be free to do as he pleased, leaving the supermarket’s duties to the other workers.

Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed an older lady with short, dark hair settling her items onto the checkout belt. With the most insincere grin plastered on his face that he could muster, he began scanning and bagging her items while his mind drifted off.

A fantasy world filled with monsters and dungeons, available to anyone with a working computer! The world of MonoQuest awaits you!

The jingle of Ouma’s current obsession- a video game called MonoQuest- echoed in his head as he helped the woman check out.

MonoQuest was Ouma’s place to freely be himself, letting loose and having fun in a fantasy world. The lush gardens, the sparkling rivers and the spooky monster-ridden caves were all ever so enticing, but one aspect stood out above all the rest: his guild partner, Blueberry97. True to his name, his avatar was mostly blue in color, except for his light green eyes that stood out effortlessly.

Ouma’s own avatar, however, was mostly decorated with a lavender color, bordering on pink. With long hair tied up in two ponytails and a frilly dress, his avatar was undeniably female, despite him being, well, not a female. Not like it mattered anyway, as Ouma was perfectly content with his avatar being the way it was.

Snapping out of his thoughts, Ouma rang up the woman’s total for her purchase and helped her load the bags into her cart.

“Have a nice day!” the woman chirped, leading Ouma to respond with a short nod. Noticing that it was just past ten o’clock, he placed the closed sign over his aisle and made his way out from behind the counter. It didn’t take long for him to clock out of work and start his drive home.

----------

Ouma entered the apartment hurriedly, tossing his keys onto the counter. Kiibo was already asleep by now since he tended to go to bed early, and Iruma was still at work, meaning Ouma was basically alone in their shared apartment.

Sparing no hesitation, he made his way to his bedroom, closing and locking the door behind him. He sat down at his desk and started up his computer, his hand gliding over the mouse. Within minutes he had successfully opened up MonoQuest, typing in his username, Princesex69. Spawning in the plaza of the town, it didn’t take long for a message to appear on the side of his screen from his guild partner.

@Blueberry97

Hey! Wanna go on a quest together? I picked up a new side quest together and I wanted to try it out with you! :) 

Ouma smiled at the message and began typing quickly.

@Princesex69

Only if you promise to be my knight in shining armor if things go bad! TT

@Blueberry97

Of course, princess! Meet me in the forest by the village and I’ll be there to protect you!

@Princesex69

Omw!

Moving as quickly as possible, Ouma dashed over to the forest outside of the village to meet his guild partner. He spotted him waiting right by the entrance, his familiar blue avatar standing in contrast to the green of the forest.

“Princess!” Blueberry97 jogged up to Princesex69, greeting her eagerly. “You made it!”

“Of course! Who do you think I am?” She grinned smugly at him, twirling one of her ponytails between her fingers.

He smiled warmly at her, “Shall we get going?”

She nodded and walked into the forest with him, the two of their avatars standing in close proximity to one another.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been in here before…” the princess mused, looking up at the trees towering up above them.

“Me neither…” Blueberry97 responded, “I think they added this forest in the new update.”

Princesex69 hummed in agreement, continuing to walk with her guild partner.

Suddenly, an arm was thrust in front of her, preventing her from walking any further.

“Princess, watch out!” the young knight shouted in alarm, bringing the princess out of her daze.

She immediately looked forward, noticing a particularly angry group of forest goblins standing a few feet away from them.

“Stay back!” he shouted, preparing to fight them off.

The princess contemplated joining him in his endeavors- she wasn’t helpless, after all- but he had eliminated the goblins in the blink of an eye.

“Wow! How brave of you to protect me from danger! I guess you really <i>are</i> a knight after all!” she gushed.

The knight blushed, turning to face the princess. “I-I’m still in training, you know… I don’t really consider myself a full-fledged knight.”

The princess thought to herself for a moment before responding, “Hmm, whatever you say, I guess! But that was toooootally heroic of you to save me like that!” She tilted her head innocently, noticing the way that the knight’s blush deepened at her words.

“I, uh, I guess so…” he stammered.

“Now come on!” She pulled on his arm, leading him deeper into the forest. “We’ve still got a bunch more monsters to kill!”

He smiled and nodded, following the princess into the depths of the mysterious forest.

----------

“Whew! That was sooooo much work! I’m totally beat!” Princesex69 groaned, sitting on the ground next to the river. Blueberry97 followed suit, sitting cross-legged by the edge of the river.

“Me too…” he looked over at the princess, who was gazing into the distance over the river.

She looked beautiful like that, the knight thought. Spending time with her was truly exhilarating, and was completely different than spending time with the other guild members. They were partners, after all, but there’s more to it than just that. He felt like he was exceptionally close to the princess, and he wanted to know more and more about her. If only…

“What’s on your mind?” Blueberry97 jumped at the sudden question, clearly startled. “You’ve been staring at me for the past few moments. It’s getting kind of creepy…”

“Ah, sorry!” he apologized.

“Just kidding! I’m used to it by now! All part of being a beautiful princess in a magical fantasy world!” She smiled cheekily at him, causing him to chuckle.

“Actually, there is something on my mind.” he swallowed, hoping it would help in getting rid of the nervous pit in his stomach. He stood up slowly, grabbing the princess by the hand of helping her up as well.

“It’s been a year since we’ve become guild partners. I’ve had a lot of fun playing with you, but… I want more. I want to meet you in real life!” He clenched his fists, looking at her with determined eyes. “Please! I want to know the real you!”

The princess stood there in stunned silence, not exactly sure what to say. She hesitated to speak, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet in order to dissipate some of her nervous energy.

“I, uh…” she stammered.

“I’m sorry, princess, I…!” Blueberry97 apologized, “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m…”

“N-No, don’t apologize! It’s just…” she paused, still unsure of herself. “I have to go! I’ll talk to you tomorrow! Bye!”

And just like that, Princesex69 logged out of MonoQuest. Blueberry97 stood there, taken aback by her sudden disappearance. He sighed to himself, looking down at the ground.

“...See you tomorrow…”

----------

Ouma flopped down onto his bed, promptly screaming into his pillow. How could he do that? He just left his guild partner hanging, without even giving him a proper response to his offer. How could he be so stupid?”

He lifted himself up from the pillow, turning himself over so that he was laying down on his back. Staring at the ceiling in the pitch black darkness, he cursed himself for being such a coward.

Why did I have to log out so fast? Why didn’t I tell him that I wanted to meet him in real life too? It’s not like I don’t want to meet him, it’s just…

Ouma sighed, balling his hands into fists.

Everything is all my fault… I should’ve never made my stupid avatar a girl in the first place… that way I wouldn’t have to deal with this shit…

The truth was, Ouma did want to meet Blueberry97 in real life. Hell, he wanted it more than anything. But he was almost certain that he would want nothing to do with him after finding out that he wasn’t a beautiful young girl and instead a short and immature boy with a penchant for mischief.

He rolled over in bed, closing his eyes in an attempt to force himself to sleep. He could deal with this tomorrow, or whenever the next time he logged onto MonoQuest was…

Or not.

[samcedesvegas]

Movie Set || Samcedes || Mercedes Trailer

Mercedes Jones made her way onto the set, today was the first table read for her new Romance Comedy, which she was thrilled about. She had cameos and guest star spots. Even as a supporting actress in a blockbuster hit but to be the Leading Lady in her own movie, that was huge. Acting wasn't her first love but it was a fun distraction. She was fresh off her Every Woman Tour and ready to work.

Walking into the big conference room, she and her Manager/Best Friend Tina were the first ones there. Taking off her sunglasses and smoothing down her purple and pink tie dye Jersey Dress she sighed. "Still can't believe we are here. We are doing this." Tina smiled. "Well you are ready, you know your lines, and your co star is pretty hot right now." 

Mercedes took her seat and grabbed her script looking back over it. "Yeah well hot and a playboy doesn't really make you a great actor now does it? But I won't judge..." She lied she totally would judge him, she knew his reputation. All men were dogs, period. And that included her dog of an ex who dumped her and got right with a groupie. Jackass.

Reluctantly, Sam Evans spent the latter part of his evening indulging in countless free shots of tequila. He felt like crap but luckily his bloodshot eyes were hidden behind dark Ray Bans. He pulled the hot coffee cup away from his lips, regretting how much he seemed to indulge in the perks of his newfound fame last night.

From the rural plains of Tennessee to sunny Los Angeles, Sam could finally say he made it. Where he was from, not many people did. It was either a nine to five at the piggly wiggly, prison, or a grave. There was no in between in that small town. Sam had played his fair share of smaller roles but this was the one. His entire team was sure of it. So, he was going to make sure no one knew how hungover he was. Especially not his beautiful songstress of a co-star. The last thing he wanted was to make a bad first impression on her.

Mercedes felt her phone vibrate, another photo of her ex Gabriel Norris with another female. The Quarterback was certainly enjoying being single. She rolled her eyes as she glanced up watching people filed inside, they were supposed to be "mingling" to get to know each other. Personally Mercedes wasn't really looking forward to it. She put the script down as Tina told her to be nice and moved over to her costars. Their conversations though, were not what she wanted to be a part of. 

Her "best friend" in the movie was played by Jane Hayward, a lesser known actress but from what she heard, the girl was good. Not wanting to interrupt their riveting conversation about the best bars, she turned to see her love interest Sam Evans standing alone. Walking over to him she extended her hand. "I guess we are working together." she said a little more flat than she intended.

The room full of people gave Sam a small inkling of anxiety. This wasn’t his first rodeo, he’d done a host of tv sitcoms and supporting acting roles before but this was his first leading role. That made him nervous as hell. But he was an actor so it was easy for him to paint on the brave face. After all that was his area of expertise. This was the moment he worked his entire career for and he wasn’t going to ruin it by being a complete spaz. 

“Guess we are.” He smiled extending his own hand to meet hers. Again, he was trying not to be a spaz but he couldn’t contain his excitement. He’d been around his fair share of celebrities but none as famous as Mercedes Jones. A force to be reckoned with in the music industry. Sam would shamelessly admit to having heard every one of her albums, even the ones from her girl group days. Didn’t hurt that she was also easy on the eyes. In his words...smoking hot. “Pleasure is all mine m’lady.”

Mercedes had to admit, the casting director did a great job at casting Sam. He had the look that was for sure. Tall, handsome, sexy, if she was into that kinda thing and at the moment she was not. He would get the girls and let's not be biased guys in just off his looks alone and she would have her own fanbase so as long as they did their part and gave a great performance the movie should do well. If Twilight could do it then so could they.

However the moment he spoke she understood why people called him a playboy. Those green eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses inside gave off a sense of coolness why his accent and tone would drive a woman crazy, yes he was a playboy and she would not be played by him. She pulled her hand away and nodded. "We should probably make a schedule to see if we can run lines together. Make this process as painless as possible."

A lady who was about her business, Sam could definitely appreciate that. The women that seemed to keep him company as of late were all either brainless supermodels or dense socialites that wanted nothing more than the perfect photo op.  Be seen on his arm and boost their own careers. Not saying he got nothing out of it, he was a man with needs of course. But this was certainly a breath of fresh air. A woman of substance. But he was going to hold off on the questions about her girl group breakup. Those questions had been lingering around in his head for years.

“Oh sure, but I’m totally not good with numbers, dates, and all that junk so I’ll follow your lead.” As they took their seats, Sam couldn’t help but admire her natural curves. In fact he was pretty obvious with his glaring. “So what made you wanna’ jump into my world? I mean it’s not like you need the gig. You’re already one hell of a star.” He complimented hoping it’d gain him some brownie points. Plus a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone...right?

Mercedes took her seat glancing at her script, they would be starting in about ten minutes and she was ready to get it over with. As Sam started to speak again she was at first appreciative that he wouldn't be that hard to work with, but then his next words caused her to roll her eyes. "His world"? was he serious? There went another person who felt because she had been singing for the last 15 years that she couldn't possibly act as well. What did people think Music videos were?

"Well gosh I guess I figured if brainless oafs could do it why should I give it a try?" She said annoyed. "Just because I am a singer, doesn't mean I don't have talent, because I do. I am a damn great actress and I earned this part. So don't go thinking I got it because I know the director or some bull like that!" she hissed.

“Whoa, whoa...I wasn’t saying that. I know you’re talented as hell. I’ve been following your career since I was a kid. Ever since Cinderella, I’ve been a fan. Sorry I wasn’t trying to offend you. Just curious is all.” Crap he was ruining his chances before they even started. Was it wrong that her sassiness kinda sorta turned him on? She was hot, she was feisty, and the woman knew how to speak up for herself. How could Sam not like that.

Taking a deep breath he began looking over his lines as well, dialing it back a bit. So clearly she wasn’t fond of his charm which wasn’t to be expected, but a decent man always knew how to bounce back. “What I meant was, what made you wanna’ do a movie? I mean your career in music is far better than anyone here. Didn’t think you needed anything like this.”

A fan. Great, not only was she stuck with the playboy of L.A. he was a fan. This was the man who was rumored to sleep with every female he worked with. They did a spread and then he made them spread, their legs. And Mercedes was not about to be a notch on his belt. She may have been dating a Quarterback but she was not easy, she prided herself on her reputation. Sam was bad business for her good girl image.

She cleared her throat turning towards him. "Lets just clear this up right now. I am not going to sleep with you. I took this job because I am a sucker for romance. This story where boy and girl fall in love but realize it too late, it's a beautiful love story about second chances. Yes you are hot which makes my job easier and your accent...well whatever but make no mistake the closest you are gonna come to getting between my legs, is the fake sex scenes we have on screen."

Sam was undoubtedly captivated by the songstress. The way she protested, yet still managed to acknowledge how hot he was extremely gratifying. As humble as he was with his career, his ego when it came to women was a whole lot bigger. Now he wasn’t the “womanizer” the media painted him out to be. Sam Evans was actually the biggest sweetheart. He didn’t get a kick out of smashing and dashing. He was a stand up guy. The man just enjoyed the company of women, was that such a bad thing?

“Look Mercedes, I in no way plan on getting between those beautiful legs of yours...unless you want me to. I know the tabloids can kinda make me seem like a player but that just ain’t true. I just crush a lot.” He chuckled hoping his little joke would lighten the mood. Of course he was attracted to Mercedes, how could he not be? She was fine, confident, and had a whole lot of attitude. “Seriously though, I want you to feel completely comfortable with me. So although it’ll be hard not to, I’ll dial back the flirting and keep this thing strictly business.”

Everything that came out of Sam's mouth was trouble. He was definitely a smooth talking player, but right now she was immune to him. No matter how hot he was and no matter what his accent was doing to her. She rolled her eyes at his comment. "Cute." she said going back to her script, this was going to be a long night.

The table read was not bad once they got started, they read through it fairly quickly, and even though Sam seemed like a player, he was a good actor, she could give him that. The last few days were met with getting acquainted, with getting their trailers and revisions, with trying her best to not let Sam know he was getting to her. She asked him to meet her in her trailer so they could go over the revision of the first scene they were shooting. It was a love scene that she was both regretting but looking forward to.  Wearing a white and pink sundress she threw her hair up into a messy buy and put her glasses on going over the script and making sure she knew her new lines.

Sam had the paper with his lines clutched in hand as he walked across the studio lot to meet Mercedes in her trailer. He already had most of his lines memorized but he still jumped at the chance to have someone on one time with Mercedes. Even if they were just handling business. He actually enjoyed being around her. She was funny, quick witted, and kept him on his toes. Not to mention her smile. It did something to him. That smile could light up an entire room.

Sam did a quick breath check in his hand and ate a couple breath mints to be safe. He took a deep breath before knocking on the trailer door and awaiting Mercedes' answer. In the meantime he began doing his daily mouth exercises to loosen up his lips. Just in case she wanted to have a few practice runs at the steamy kiss on page three.

Mercedes closed her eyes going over the lines and then opening to see if she got them right. She was on a roll when she heard someone knock. Knowing it was Sam, she cleared her throat moving to the couch and smoothing her dress. "Girl stop! He's just a coworker, get over it." She shook it off reaching down and grabbing a piece of gum. "Come in." She said pushing her glasses up and going back to the script. She did not like Sam Evans; he was a playboy who she was not gonna fall for. Plus she was on a men detox.

Sam let himself in once he heard her voice from the other side of the door. Keep it cool he thought to himself as he closed the door behind him. Mercedes made it very clear that nothing would happen between them beyond what was written in the script but for some reason Sam felt differently.  To him there was already an undeniable chemistry between them. He just had to get her to see it. In due time. “So where do you want me?”

Looking towards Sam she smiled softly. "You can sit next to me, we are filming page three tonight so we might as well make sure we know what we are doing. So let's get right to it." She opened her script to the page, just in case. "So remember these two are talking about love and life, looking out at the stars, they both broke up with their partners and are consoling each other."

She closed her eyes getting into the headspace. Opening her eyes she got into character. "You ever wonder if anyone in this world can truly be happy? I thought so...once, but now i am divorced and raising my son on my own, and I don't think it's possible."

Sam took his seat next to Mercedes and settled in comfortably. He placed the sheet with his lines on the table in front of them and turned to her. As she began her lines Sam kept his own rolling around in his head. Because of his dyslexia, reading off paper was never his thing.  Luckily for him, he had the memory of an elephant so his strategy was to memorize and it usually worked for him. When he wasn’t staring at his co-worker.

“Crap wait, I screwed up. Start over.” He nervously shuffled as Mercedes repeated her line. Then a complete one-eighty. Sam transformed into Ryder Stone in that very moment. “I know they can. I felt it for years...my Isabel made me believe in love. After I lost her I still felt grateful that I got to experience true happiness in the first place. I keep that with me always.”

To say Mercedes was underwhelmed was an understatement,  though once he started again, she could see him getting into character so she continued her lines as Brooklyn Myers. "Yeah but what you and she had, it was raw and passionate. Nate and I never had that and I suppose that's why it didn't work out. Hey, maybe if I followed you to school and not went on my own path we would have gotten together." She said as she laughed softly, looking past Sam as if really seeing their past and future. "I don't regret my son I never could, but I regret his dad. He never truly loved me, and now I wonder if anyone besides my family ever could." She glanced at Sam longingly before looking down to her hands, as per the script.

She was really good, not that it was surprising to him or anything. From the few short days that he’d known her she was always on top of her game. This was clearly no different. Sam reached out and titled Mercedes’ chin up with his index finger, following the script. “Maybe stop looking so far and stop thinking so hard. Nate was a prick and he didn’t deserve a good girl like you.” Their eyes were now locked on each other’s as Sam stroked his thumb against the smooth skin of her chin...not in the script. A strange flutter happened in his stomach. They were acting but for some reason he was really into it. Really really into it.

Mercedes' eyes met his, his word delivery was impressive and he was improvising which was working, maybe a little more than it should since she was melting against his touch. Eyes never leaving his she continued. "I am a thinker, you dream and I am practical. It's why we are best friends why we work. Why I love you." She said softly. "If the one man I thought loved me didn't deserve me, then who does?"

His eyes never left hers, it was like they were staring into one another’s souls. At first he wasn’t completely sure about the role but he definitely felt connected to the character now. “Maybe a man who’s been right in front of you all along. One who’s always been in your corner right or wrong.“ He paused before delivering his next line. “Brooklyn what if it’s us that’s meant to be? Has that ever crossed your mind?” He cupped her cheek lovingly, his face serious but soft at the same time.

She started at him for a moment letting it seem she was taking his words seriously. "Us?" She looked away from him, pulling away and standing. Thank goodness her trailer was basically a  mini house so they could move freely. "I'm not-" she wrapped her arms around herself as the script said, since it was a cold night. "You don't have to pity me Ryder.  I know Isabel was the love of your life and we all know you only get one."

He quickly got up meeting her in the center of the trailer floor. His arm resting on the small of her back. “Pitty? Never. Don’t you get what I’m trying to say? Brooklyn I love you...as more than just my best friend” He slowly turned her around to face him again. He stopped momentarily really getting into character. He had to because the next line called for his lips to meet hers. “Yes, I loved Isabel and I always will. But she’d want me to be happy. You’re that for me...” without hesitation he went in for the kiss.

Mercedes knew his hand on her back was coming, but what she wasn't prepared for was the way it made her feel. She closed her eyes gathering her bearings as he spoke. He turned her towards him and she stared up at him. She knew the kiss was coming, but she figured they would stop beforehand. She wasn't prepared for him kissing her. Even more so she wasn't prepared for the way it made her feel. She had to pull away before a moan hit her lips. "Umm okay, that was great but the kiss. It really needs work." She liked moving away from him.

Sam was taken aback because he was so sure that his kissing skills were definitely on point. He damn sure wasn’t expecting that reclamation but he was a man of pride. He wasn’t going to let her see him sweat. Removing his hand from her back, he shoved them into his pockets. “Please you know it was good.” He started with a smug smile on his lips. “You were really good though. Somebody’s been practicing their lines. A proud co-star.” He winked before plopping down on her couch. “So you wanna run it again? Or you think you’re good?”

There it was, that smugness that annoyed her. Nate had it and now she saw Sam did and she couldn't stand it. Turning towards him she folded her arms across her chest. She was gonna let him off the hook because yes she did enjoy the kiss but he was asking for it so she broke it down. It was good, not mind blowing. "Good? Your technique was sloppy, delivery was weak and F.Y.I. you don't have to use that much tongue right away. You wanna make her beg for more." She moved to her fridge and grabbed a water bottle. "And of course I am really good. Mercedes Jones doesn't do mediocre."

She was faking hard and Sam knew it. However, he was going to let her have her moment. Clearly she needed it. He had the best lips in town, who wouldn’t wanna’ kiss em? “Damn...that’s pretty harsh. But I’m a strong man, I can take a little constructive criticism.” He nodded with confidence. “So Uhh...what are you doing after this. A couple of us are going out for food and drinks. Y’know mingling and all that junk. You wanna tag along?”

She knew he didn't believe her and for good reason but for some reason she just couldn't get behind him being that cocky. It oozed off him like a stench and she wasn't here for it. "Can you? Cause it seems to me you are a man with a huge ego who can't possibly imagine a woman not wanting him. News Flash, you are not God's gift to women." She shook her head. "No I am good. I wanna run my lines a few more times." 

She turned from him but stopped; she wanted to further prove her point and maybe kiss him just once more. "And by the way, this is how you give a mind blowing kiss." She said moving towards him and pulling him towards her. Her lips met his in a soft kiss at first and then deepened it pushing him against the wall as her arms wrapped around his neck. Her tongue swiped across his bottom lip before she took his lower lip and nipped it gently before pulling away and stepping back. "That is how you give a memorable kiss."

Indeed the kiss was very memorable, no denying that.  Sam swore he’d lay off the flirting but he couldn’t help himself. That’s just the way he was around pretty ladies. But by the way she was shutting him down maybe she just really wasn’t interested. 

He was fine with that. He wasn’t a pusher and he damn sure didn’t want to pressure her, that wasn’t his style. If anything were to happen between them he wanted it to be mutual. “I can stay here too and run lines, drinks will always be there. Plus I sorta wanna get this scene right. Since my kissing is so weak and mediocre.” He chuckled.

Mercedes watched him for a moment. Then moved back. "Fine if you really wanna get this right then let's go. But look it wasn’t bad it's just. You rushed in there like a preteen having his first kiss, not like a man in love who knows this kiss, this kiss is gonna determine if she loves him back. Ryder is putting everything on the line with this kiss. She stands in front of him. "Like this." She clears her throat.  “Yes, I loved Isabel and I always will. But she’d want me to be happy. You’re that for me...” her hand went to his face, softly holding it there as she leaned in. "I love you." She improvised as she kissed him softly, gradually growing deeper. Then pulled away. "Now you try."

His blood was rushing to places and quick.  Sam was lost in the kiss, so much so that he hadn't even noticed that she pulled away. He slowly opened his eyes and let out a breathless "Damn". That was the only way to properly describe the kiss from Mercedes. Though he was pretty sure nothing was wrong with his kiss before. He had to admit though, she was a damn good kisser. He cleared his throat and shook his shoulders as he repeated his lines once more and mimicked Mercedes' actions, except this time he fully committed. He dipped her back, planting a feverish kiss to her lips. "Hmm how about that?" he asked, lifting her back up.

Mercedes smirked hearing his response. Yeah she was good, and that kiss was fire. She stood back waiting for him and yeah the kiss was great but he still wasn't getting it. "Sam, now you are just over doing it, you need to connect with Ryder. With why he loves her. He's her best friend, she was always there for him and he knows he can depend on her, forever. Every touch and action proves that. It's a touch during a kiss." She said touching his face. "Now try it again but be in love."

Huffing under his breath  he closed his eyes. He liked the way Mercedes seemed to push him. Was it because she saw his potential? Or maybe she was just as happy to keep kissing him as he was with her. Either way Sam had no complaints. “Yes, I loved Isabel and I always will. But she’d want me to be happy. You’re that for me...” He placed a hand softly on her cheek, caressing her soft skin. His eyes stayed locked on hers as he stared intensely. Her lips were in view and he just went for it. Pulling her face inches from his, he closed his eyes letting his lips work their magic.

Mercedes waited for Sam to start again, and was pleasantly surprised at the way he looked, the way he spoke. His hand on her cheek sent shivers up and down her spine, and his kiss proved that with a little work, Sam could make the most of his talents. His kiss, this kiss was amazing. It took everything in her not to go weak in the knees but she couldn't help herself wanting more. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.

Sam wasn’t expecting for Mercedes to match his energy but she did. It took everything in him to break away, not even realizing his hands had fallen to her hips. “When we shoot that scene on Monday, the entire cast in crew are gonna’ be in awe. Totally gonna crush it.” He winked. “Now if you’ll excuse me I think you took off all my chapstick with that last one.” He joked as he pulled his hands off of her with a smile.

Mercedes let her hands fall, shocked at her actions, not missing a stride she shook her head with a smile. "Yeah, considering that I acted my ass off and you improved, I think they are gonna be shocked at your improvement." She teased. She walked over to her water and took a sip. "Do you want some water?"

Sam nodded as Mercedes supplies him with some water. Much needed for the amount of times they ran that kissing even. If she hadn’t made it clear that she had no intentions on falling for his charm, he would be pretty sure that she liked him. Maybe not on a deep level but the chemistry was undeniable. “You sure that was all acting?” He teased as he fanned himself. “Because woo! I’m impressed if so.”

Mercedes rolled her eyes going back to her water and sitting on the sofa. "Trust me you will know if I liked you. A real kiss from me, a real true Mercedes Jones kiss, it'll leave you speechless, it will make you lose all train of thought other than wanting to kiss me again." She said staring at him.

[blog-sliverofjade]

Hearth Fires 6:  Animals

Pairing: Remi Denier x OFC

Summary:  Lorel Maddox just wants to live as a human, run her bakery in peace, and forget. Unfortunately, the alpha of the local leopard pack has very different ideas.

Remi Denier doesn’t know what to make of the female Changeling who wants nothing to do with him or the RainFire pack. He does know that he has a driving need to protect her. Even if it’s from herself.

While they’re embroiled in a battle of wills, there’s a war brewing on the horizon. The outside threat could not only destroy everything they hold dear, but tear apart the fragile new bonds of the Trinity Accord, plunging the world into bloodshed to rival the Territorial Wars of centuries past.  

Word count: 1691

Content warning: Racist cop

Hearth Fires Masterlist

Beta read by the matchless pandabearer

           The officers eased up when they realized that Lorel was in 100% human form, which was a short and plump one, at that; someone had told her once that in her pretty dresses she looked about as dangerous as a cupcake.  Appearances certainly were deceiving, after all, since she could probably do significant damage to the woman currently carrying on outside. While the thought was definitely tempting, she knew she wasn’t fast enough to get past four cops before they could take her down.  That was her cat’s risk assessment, not hers. She was still frozen in shock.

           Looking like they’d stepped into The Twilight Zone , they lowered their weapons.  She felt the same way, her brain trying to wrap itself around the presence of Enforcement in her bakery for anything other than coffee and donuts.

           One stepped forward to ask her some questions and she answered truthfully.  The absurdity of the situation and their authoritative tone had her operating mostly on autopilot while she focused on keeping her ocelot under control.  The cat bared its teeth at the intruders, wanting to drive them off its territory.

        It quickly became obvious that the snotty woman had reported that Lorel had threatened and stalked her down the street.  Naturally, she was more than happy to disabuse them of that falsehood.

           “Would you like to see the camera footage?” she offered.

           Three of the quartet followed her, the other went to question the other party.  She only used the small office off the kitchen to meet customers with large custom designs like wedding cakes.  Usually, she placed orders from her organizer while having tea or a bite to eat at one of the tables on the sidewalk out front, although that would probably change soon with the weather.

           The portable device was perfectly capable of displaying the CCTV feed, but the screen in the back was larger.  She slipped behind the desk and tried not to feel claustrophobic with the black-clad officers filling the rest of the tiny space between her and the door.  Their scents filled the room, making it hard for her to breathe.

           Lorel closed the sketches she’d been working on to bring up the video.  There was no sound, but it was plain from their body language that the blonde was the aggressor.  She’d been too shocked at the time to note the other woman’s belligerent stance and excessive gesticulations.  As for herself, she looked like someone had smacked her across the face with a fish. She had only moved to grip the counter once the vile words had sunk in, trying to keep from leaping over the counter.  Thankfully she never actually lunged for her throat.

           The trio relaxed as they watched, alternately annoyed, exasperated, disgusted, and resigned.  Not that much of their emotions showed on their faces; it was their scents that gave them away.  A part of her brain filed that realization away to freak out over later.  

           Once the video caught up to when the cops entered, she hit pause.  They asked more questions, most of which washed over her without fully registering in her mind.  She was still reeling emotionally, and her cat was too on edge over the strange predators. A couple of lips pursed, and she thought she caught an eye roll when she got to the part that had been the last straw and she kicked the blonde out.  Their obvious distaste at the false report had her cat easing down a bit, giving her room to breathe.

           “Thank you, miss.”  

           Now that she was no longer fighting the all-encompassing urge to attack, she noted the name on his uniform.  Sugiyama. They’d introduced themselves once they realized she wasn’t even armed with so much as a spatula, but she’d been too off-balance to absorb the information at the time.

           “Maddox.  Lorel Maddox.”  They responded automatically to the ritual of etiquette when she offered a handshake.  She smiled, careful to not flash any more teeth than absolutely necessary. While they appeared genial now, she still didn’t want to give them an excuse to think that she was threatening them in the enclosed space.  Her cat didn’t like being crowded in there at all and she was afraid of how it’d react if subjected to any more stress. “Would ya’ll like a copy of the video?”

           “No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” Sugiyama, apparently the senior officer since he’d been doing most of the speaking, shook his head.  “The sheriff will want to speak with you, though.”

           Moving out of sheer habit, she escorted them to the front where she plied them with samples and coffee.  Her hands shook as she went through the motions. She knew that not all such interactions between Changelings and Enforcement went so peacefully.  Was that what she’d intended? She thought she was going to be sick.

           Her cat wanted to hunt her down and rip her throat out.

           Invisible bugs crawled across Remi’s skin.  He flexed his foot a little harder on the pedal and the vehicle responded readily with a burst of speed that pressed him back against the seat.  He could have set it to autopilot once he’d reached the highway, but the safety protocols would’ve kept him at the speed limit and he didn’t have time for that.  The clock on the dash told him that he’d received Chloe’s call merely eleven minutes ago, yet it felt like hours.  

           They’d thus far managed to squeak by without any run-ins with Enforcement, and now he had to intervene on behalf of someone who wasn’t even a packmember yet.  Local Enforcement was almost purely human, with the odd Psy here and there. Most of the Psy brass from the Council days had been cleaned out. Rainfire hadn’t had enough dominants, even if they’d been interested, to spare to the force since they were no longer barred from the ranks.

           After the abuses of the Psy under Silence, the human-dominated city Enforcement distrusted anyone who wasn’t entirely human.  The fall-out of this encounter could impact racial relations in the area for years to come and it all hinged on a stubborn, unpredictable ocelot.

           He pulled to a stop in front of the hardware store in record time.  Cop cars clogged up the parking spaces in front of the bakery and yarn shop across the street.

           “Jack’s just started questioning her,” Chloe called with a grimace from the alcove of her doorway.  The way she wrapped her rainbow-coloured shawl tightly around herself made it sound more nefarious than a simple interview.

           He grunted and nodded in thanks.  He’d met the human woman a few times at her husband’s hardware store, so she knew he wasn’t considered chatty even on his more gregarious days and wasn’t likely to take offense at his response.  But he had to get verbal. Fast.

           Keeping to an easy stride (running headlong was only something hot-headed dominant juveniles did, he reminded himself), he focused on the voices drifting out the open door.  He couldn’t remember the last time he was so grateful for his acute hearing.

           “I just want to know what the problem is.”  Sheriff Shank somehow managed to sound both friendly and patronizing.  The ears of Remi’s leopard went flat against its head and it curled its upper lip in a sneer.

           “She used a slur so I asked her to leave.”  Lorel was clearly becoming exasperated. No cat tolerated condescension for long.  Unfortunately, there were cops forming a loose cordon in front to block his way and he was not in the mood to play at being non-threatening.

           “And what slur was that?”  

           “Animal.”

           Remi had to stop and make nice with the cops when all he wanted to do was burst in there and crack la crâne de cette bibette.  

           “Don’t you people use that word?  Talk about yourselves as cats and dogs?”  The derision in his voice had claws shoving at Remi’s fingertips.  It took every ounce of willpower to keep them in as he made small talk with the guards, working his way around to getting their version of the story.

           “Wolves, there are no dog Changelings.”  The drinks and treats in their hands had his leopard snorting; she’d all but tried to throw him out on his ear when he’d dropped by and then turned on the Southern belle grace full force when Enforcement descended.  He wondered if she knew that he was loathe to see her hurt or if she didn't recognize the lethal threat he posed.

           “So, what’s the difference between ‘animal’ and a specific animal?”

           “Context.  She accused me of taking jobs from humans.”  It was nice to hear that icy tone directed at someone else instead of at him.

           “You specifically?”

           “Well, no, she-”

           “So you kicked her out for expressing an opinion?  Did you know her husband lost his job to one of you?  Ever since ya’ll moved in work’s been hard to come by.”  That was a load of shit.  Some people had their panties in a twist because the timber industry was banned from RainFire lands, while conveniently ignoring the benefits to local businesses

           “That’s no reason to call Enforcement, I certainly didn’t threaten her!”

           The officers- Sugiyama, Norton, and Carter- made it plain that nothing had happened and that the sheriff was “just finishing up” with Lorelei.

           “Predatory Changelings like you can be pretty scary.”  Shank drew “pretty” out into nearly four syllables. “You should just be glad she wasn’t carrying.  This is a stand-your-ground state.”  It was all he could do to keep his eyes from going cat at the subtle threat.

           “You’re saying a woman can come into my shop, scream and insult me, then shoot me if I look at her funny and it’s legal?”

           “Sure, if she’s scared for her life.”  

           “But I didn’t do anything, I only asked her to leave!”  From the corner of his eye, he saw her throw her hands in the air.

           “See, that’s the problem with you folks, you’re just too aggressive.”

           “Oh, you think this is aggressive?”

           And that was his cue to enter stage right.

[fretened]

Celeste (2018) - pushing game design to new heights (Developed by Matt Makes Games)

Reviewed on PS4, playable on:

Steam

Itch.io

Epic Games store

Nintendo Switch

PlayStation 4

Xbox One 

Introduction

Celeste is a game about a girl called Madeline who decides to climb a mountain to overcome her depression and anxiety, as well as the other characters she meets along the way. Little does she know that Celeste mountain is more than what it seems and, in order to confront the challenges she will face along the way, Madeline will have to come face to face with a part of her that she would have much rather avoided. Celeste uses mostly linear 2D platforming across groundbreakingly designed levels, all with a gorgeous 16-bit art style  which, along with a cast of charming characters and wonderfully written dialogue, delivers a truly moving story about self-reflection and overcoming anxieties despite all the odds. Here are my thoughts and feelings on the 2018 critically acclaimed ‘best independent game’ and ‘games for impact’ Game Award winner, Celeste.

Level design

Celeste’s fundamental mechanic is Madeline’s dash ability which propels her in a straight line in a chosen direction for a set distance. The dash can only be interrupted by objects in the environment and it can only be used once in mid air -  it recharges as soon as Madeline touches the ground; this is represented intuitively on screen by Madeline’s hair turning blue when her dash is used up and turning back to orange when the dash becomes available. This core mechanic is explored in a different direction in each of Celeste’s 8 chapters. If you explore these levels you can gain access to the far more challenging B and C side versions of the levels which push the exploration further in it’s respective directions, however, you may not even feel inclined to touch these levels as Celeste’s main game alone is likely challenging enough for a lot of players.

Celeste’s side-scrolling levels are broken up into stages/sections that you have to pass to progress through the game. I felt as though each section was designed to push and improve my ability at the game and make me practice and experiment with my approach to each section’s unique challenges. 

Each screen/section would have maybe 2-5 challenges you had to pass, one after another, and the game’s instant deaths, fast respawn times and the ability to save anytime meant that there was no repercussion for my trial and error and I could keep trying and trying until I would find faster and faster ways of progressing and, often, hidden shortcuts that I hadn’t seen the first few times round. The gameplay promotes developing a mastery of it’s mechanics. These shortcuts are often found by thinking outside the box and playing around with levels’ systems and mechanics. For players looking for a challenge, as well as cassette tapes with B and C side levels, Celeste’s 8 main chapters are full of collectible strawberries which present a whole load of extra examples of really clever game design. For example, some of these collectible strawberries have wings and will fly straight up and out of the level if you use Madeline’s dash and so you have to think outside of the box and grab the strawberry without using the dash which is usually vital for getting from A to B. It’s this kind of design that stops the game from ever feeling dry or formulaic. Celeste’s levels constantly feel fresh, well paced and engaging. 

I’d also like to note that at the start of each level in the loading screen, Madeline receives a different postcard with useful information on it. Two stood out to me: one saying that you should be proud of your death count because it shows that you’re making mistakes and you’re learning; I found this message incredibly uplifting because at times frequent deaths had made me feel a little embarrassed or made me wonder if I was getting something seriously wrong. The other was that the collectible strawberries are entirely optional and only for showing off to your friends if you really want to. I think this was a brilliant move because it gives the player a little more control over the game’s pacing. You get to decide whether you’ll spend some time trying to grab this tricky strawberry or whether you’ll push on with the game and move into the next section.

Accessibility

Celeste is rightfully celebrated for it’s range of accessibility options, from it’s tactful and unobtrusive assist mode - for players who need to fine tune the game to their specific needs in order to get the same enjoyment out of the game, to it’s picture settings that reduce flashing and particle effects for people with photosensitive epilepsy or motion sickness. For more on Celeste’s assist mode, check out Game Maker’s Tool kit’s video on ‘What Makes Celeste’s Assist Mode Special’, you can find the link to that at the end of this post.

Soundtrack

Lena Raine’s soundtrack to Celeste is an audio marvel. Whether it’s daunting, uplifting, mysterious or moving; the soundtrack made me feel tied and invested to every moment. The music was just as much a journey as every second of gameplay. The soundtrack plays to the gameplay perfectly and occasionally leads to some really incredible moments. As well as Lena Raine’s marvellous score, Celeste’s B and C sides have a range of tracks and features by other artists like lo-fi artist ‘In Love With a Ghost’.

Narrative

Celeste deals with heavy subjects like depression and anxiety without ever being tasteless or insensitive but simultaneously the game manages to deal with these subjects in an uplifting way, much in line with the game’s core message. Each level feels rich with meaning and the games narrative is tightly interwound with it’s settings, characters and mechanics in a way that feels seamless and engaging.

Celeste uses profound metaphors to deliver it’s story and discuss mental health in each chapter of the main game. One of my favourite’s was Chapter three - ‘Celestial Resort’ - which had you help skittish spectral maître d’ clean away the clutter in his abandoned hotel. As you tidy away the hotel you find him seeming less anxious than the last time because you’re helping him order the clutter in his mind so he can finally have some peace. This also happens to be what Madeline needs at this point in her story and helping the maître d’ provides her with th clarity she needs to move on. This is one of the ways the game deals with heavier subject matter without dampening the player’s experience of the game and keeping an ‘upward momentum’.

The game’s narrrative, characters, environments and soundtrack all made me feel engrossed in my ascent of Celeste mountain. The mountain has a real sense of place, mystery and history that unveils itself to you as the story unfolds. I felt fully engaged in every setting because it felt like I’d come across something that nobody had seen in a long time. Even with Celeste’s generally fast paced gameplay, it never felt like I was ‘just passing through’ a location because the drive to explore and overcome challenges kept me searching every corner and taking time to explore when I wanted to.

Everything about Celeste contributes to it’s narrative. It’s gameplay pushes you to reflect and overcome challenges. Lena Raine’s soundtrack fits every scene like a glove and fills each moment with emotion in a constantly moving way. Characters will climb out of their Dialogue boxes in some scenes as if they’re really coming to life. Even the ‘chapter complete’ screens, at the end of each level, push the story forward and tell you where Madeline is going next. Celeste is a beautiful and important story,told in an ingenious way, unlike any other game I’ve played.

Is this game for you?

I would suggest Celeste to anyone looking for a new and different gaming experience and an uplifting story. It feels consistently fresh with perpetually ingenious level design and a really wonderful story. I’ve had more fun on Celeste than any triple A game I’ve played in a long time. I’d recommend Celeste to people looking for a hopeful story in what feels like quite a hopeless time because this is a story about never losing sight against all odds, friendship and support, and self-acceptance. It’s clever, inventive, charming and moving and I just love it and I’m pretty damn sure that you will too. Celeste is a permanent fixture of my PS4 library.

Can’t afford it?

I completely understand that lots of people may not have the funds right now or in the foreseeable future to get this game and if you choose to engage in piracy or any kind of swashbuckling then I’ll reserve my judgement but personally I would always rather support the developers so I’ve put togther some links to some ‘let’s-play’ series and videos about the game so you don’t have to pirate the game if you want to get the closest thing to the experience without having to take it illegally and get into legal trouble, damage your computer/console or promote activities typically detrimental to the developers.

Watchlist & sources

Here I’ve put together a semi-curated list of videos, articles and other resources about the game as well as some ‘Let’s Play’s and speed-runs:

GMTK - Mark Brown from Game Makers Tool Kit made two videos about Celeste which were really useful resources for writing this review. It was actually these videos which introduced me to the game in the first place so it’s only fair that I recommend them to you.

Why Does Celeste Feel So Good to Play? https://youtu.be/yorTG9at90g - This video talks about the design of Madeline’s controls and what makes Celeste such a satisfying to play.

What Makes Celeste’s Assist Mode Special https://youtu.be/NInNVEHj_G4 - This video looks at how the developers have confronted a fundamental problem in game design: balancing the design intentions and accessibility as well as player preferences.

More videos - Here are some more videos about this game that I love. The first two are a lot more focussed on the level design and how the game showed you the ropes and guides you to mastery and they’re both really well produced and written and really entertaining. The last one is a short and sweet documentary about Celeste’s development from pre-game to the design and how the story started to fall together.

How Celeste Teaches You It’s Mechanics - Good Game Design (Snoman Gaming) https://youtu.be/lZoQ9a7oPvo

Celeste: Breaking Down Level Design (OK Beast) https://youtu.be/w_aWMxcHrgw

The Story of Celeste’s Development (Noclip) https://youtu.be/c3mbELVqAmo

Let’s plays and speedruns

Celeste: Fruit Brute - PART 1 (Game Grumps) https://youtu.be/iB4KG2wABPA - This series by Game Grumps is really funny but it only covers the earlier parts of the game so if you’re only looking for a bit of gameplay then this is for you!

Celeste Let’s Play [Playlist] (TenMoreMinutes) https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLn5okaoIT7P5KvGs25IWmGPcM5kvowqqh - This series covers pretty much the whole game so if you’re just looking for something to watch then here it is!

Celeste Any% Speedrun in 27:31.4 (TGH) https://youtu.be/g2KqMYWviYk - A really impressive speedrun. This guy’s just trying to finish the game as fast as possible without worrying about the strawberries or the B and C sides.

Celeste All B Sides Speedrun in 26:46 (TGH) https://youtu.be/I76TcmlsRIk - This is another complete marvel by the same guy. This time he’s doing all the B side levels; the B sides really are substantially harder than the main game.

The Celeste Speedrun That Wasn’t Humanly Possible (IGN) https://youtu.be/yEKku8S5-fo - This is a short video about an AI designed to Speedrun games that did a super human run of Celeste.

Links

Celeste game accessibility guide http://gameaccessibilityguidelines.com/celeste-assist-mode/ - This is a great website if you’re interested in accessibility in games, I used it for the accessibility section of this review.

Notes

I may eventually write a piece in more detail about aspects of the game design that I really enjoyed but in the interest of keeping things spoiler free - this is all for my Review of Celeste. This is my first game review and there will be things I’ve done well and, in greater likelihood, things I’ve done not so well and I’d love to do better in future so share your thoughts with me! I’m on Instagram under @Fretened or you can contact me here on Tumblr, I’d love to hear what you think.

If you got this far, thanks for reading Xx

[kar3npage]

One Day We’ll Be Free (But Today is Not That Day)

Inspired by this post from @im-here-fam 

 Read it here on ao3

A unwanted gift arrives in the mail for Neil and the Foxes nearly a year after Baltimore, bringing back bad memories. Or: Neil is given a flashdrive of videos of him while he was on the run. The Foxes all see.

The envelope it comes in is perfectly unassuming. It’s a relatively small, white, cheap envelope, just the same as most everything that comes in the mail. In fact, Neil is so unconcerned about it that he nearly forgets about it on the kitchen counter top, distracted by Kevin who had been watching Exy highlights and wanted to chat about the Trojans (like he always does. Neil doesn’t mind, he likes talking about them too).

It’s not until Andrew gets home with Aaron and Nicky in tow that Neil remembers it again.

The envelope bulges out where a flash drive sits and the return address is some random, unknown place in the state of New York. 

“What’s this?” Nicky asks, refraining from opening it because it has Neil’s name on it. Neil can see the effort it takes him not to mess around with it. He appreciates it, Nicky has been trying not to cross Andrew and Neil’s clear boundaries, but he doesn’t always know what they consider as too far.

“I’m not sure, I got it today in the mail.” Neil gets up to grab it, brushing past Andrew as he does. Aaron moves past them to sit with Kevin. They aren’t friends per se, but they have been trying very hard not to antagonize each other for the sake of Nicky (and Andrew, thought Aaron refuses to admit that).

Andrew’s eyes track Neil’s hands as they tear open the paper and get ahold of the silver flash drive.

Neil catches his eye to see the carefully blank expression on Andrew’s face. He notices the slight crinkle in his brow, mirroring Neil’s own confusion.

“Where’s the return address?” Andrew asks quietly, so Nicky can’t hear. He doesn’t have to worry about that since Nicky has already gotten bored and moved into the other room.

Neil understands the question though. Despite his earlier casual reaction to the mail, the small flash drive is starting to set off alarms in his head. He shows the envelope to Andrew and watches him anxiously to see any hint of recognition at the address. Andrew shakes his head and moves over to the couch.

“Kevin,” Andrew says, showing him the envelope. Kevin looks first at him with glazed eyes, head still stuck in Exy.

“What?”

“Do you know where that is.”

Kevin stares at the paper before shaking his head. He closes the computer after seeing Neil’s expression and focuses his attention on them.

“Why? Who is this from?”

Neil steps forward to answer. “I’m not sure, I got it in the mail this morning. It had this in it.” Neil brandishes the flash drive like it’s a weapon, which it really possibly could be. Neil feels shaky but his hand shows no sign of a tremble. He steps closer to Andrew in an attempt to ground himself.

It’s been over a year since Riko and his father, and Neil has been doing his best to get over the panic that’s been sticking around like a determined collection agency. He has even been talking to Betsy after months of Andrew’s gentle nudging. 

Neil curses at himself over the fact that months of hard work are dashed to the ground with a single, small flash drive.

Kevin is already on the phone with Wymack when the upperclassmen join them in their room.

“It’s not a big deal,” Neil can hear himself saying while Nicky catches the upperclassmen up on the situation. 

Andrew bumps into him with his shoulder to get his attention. “Don’t say everything is fine,” he says in low tones, fixing Neil with a blank glare.

“Wymack’s on his way,” Kevin announces, still studying the flash drive. Another burst of conversation fills the room, with only Renee and Andrew as silent sentinels. 

The ringing of Neil’s phone silences the room all too easily. For a moment, no one moves. Neil grabs the phone off of the living room table where he tossed it earlier. His breath catches when he sees that an unknown number is highlighting his screen. He answers the phone and lifts it to his ear with mechanical motions, mind already leaving his body. Everything about this is too similar to Baltimore. He can’t deal with that again, not after finally being able to catch his breath here. What about Andrew? What about the Foxes?

“Hello?” Neil says into the receiver. His voice comes out stronger than he was expecting it to. Andrew’s hand his hovering over his neck, waiting for the pin to drop.

“You have received a package,” a pleasant female voice says from the other end. “My employer requests that you watch the full video. Do you understand?”

Adrenaline kicks in. “Who is your employer?”

The Foxes react nearly as violently as Neil would like to. Kevin goes sickly pale, sinking into the couch like he can disappear and Nicky grabs his hand, mouth opening but no sound coming out. Allison looks up in alarm towards Renee, who has shifted into a fighting stance. Dan and Matt both take a step toward Neil, but Andrew holds out his hand to hold them back. Even Aaron looks alarmed, half in the bedroom and half out.

“You know the answer to that, Nathaniel. Do you understand his request?” The ‘request’ is clearly an order.

“What would the Master do if we didn’t go through with it?” Kevin makes a pained moan at the mention of Ichirou Moriyama. 

“You also know the answer to that. He would also ask that your teammates watch with you.”

“Why?” Neil’s hand has started shaking, but his voice stays firm. Andrews hand on the back of his neck roots him to the room.

“This is a reminder, Nathaniel. You seem to be getting… comfortable. My employer would like you to remember what your purpose is,” she hangs up, cutting off any other questions that Neil has. He lowers the phone slowly and looks at Andrew. 

Neil takes a deep breathe. “Is everyone here?” Neil asks, assuming that she meant the original Foxes and not the new ones. Dan knows what he means and takes a quick scan of the room. She nods after doing a quick head count.

“We need to watch whatever is on the drive. Courtesy of Ichirou Moriyama.”

Andrew tightens his grip. “Why?”

“They said I’m getting too comfortable. Kevin, where’s Wymack?”

Kevin doesn’t answer, his frame shaking has he tries to suck in deep breathes. Nicky turns to him and starts speaking as calmly as he can, turning his head to check on Andrew and Aaron every once in a while.

Wymack barges in, saving Neil from having to shake Kevin for answers. His face clears in exhausted understanding as he looks around the room. Dan gives him a quick rundown before he even asks, and they all stare at the silver peeking out of Kevin’s tight grip. 

Neil’s head floats outside of his body, Andrew’s grip holding him somewhat close to earth like a child holding the string of a balloon. He watches himself pry the flash drive out of Kevin’s grip and put it into the computer where it sits, forgotten, on the living room table. The room hesitates while he opens the file.

The name of the video shoves Neil solidly back into his body. Nathaniel_Wesninski.avi. Andrew watches him with the same blank expression, but Neil can see the concern in the tension in his shoulders and the quick way that his eyes track Neil’s movements.

“You’re all supposed to watch it with me.”

Wymack’s expression is difficult to read, but he gets the room moving until they are all sitting around the low table. Neil wishes that he knew what was coming. This video could be anything, and his mind keeps coming up with worse and worse options. He waits until they’re all settled before pressing play.

It is so much worse than what his mind has imagined.

It starts with security footage from somewhere in Chicago. Neil is young, 12 or 13, and his mother struggles with one of his fathers goons in an alleyway behind a sketchy tattoo parlor. They had been getting new passports from a less than reliable source. It was a last ditch effort-they had no other option after losing some of the money in a scuffle in Geneva, Illinois. They didn’t have enough money or energy to get to the closest place that Mary had hidden money and they desperately needed to change their names.

Neil watches as his young frame grabs the duffle and runs before another of his fathers men steps out from behind a dumpster and shoots him. There’s a collection gasp in the room and Andrew grabs Neil’s hand, squeezing it almost painfully. Neil squeezes back. He wants to look at Andrew, check to make sure he’s okay but his eyes are glued to the screen. He massages the scar from the bullet wound with his other hand while the scene shifts.

This time it’s shaky phone footage of a speeding vehicle. The clip is short and pixelated, but it’s easy to recognize Neil’s slight frame as the back door of the car opens and a hand shoves him out. The footage rolls up to show the sky as the person holding the phone panics, but it goes back to the road in time to see him rolling on the pavement, then struggling to get up as he clutches his side. 

Neil didn’t know that someone had seen that happen-no one had helped him get back up and back to the motel where his mother was waiting for him.

The montage continues, each scene as gruesome as the last. There’s security camera footage of Mary hitting Neil after she had caught him kissing that girl in Montreal, his father smacking his shoulder with that hot iron after he had disappointed him during that dinner. The images flash by until Neil can’t hear the horrified gasps, see the movement as everyone flinches at the attacks, feel Andrew’s hand squeezing so hard he’s losing blood in his hand. He feels numb and he watches with a clinical interest.

The video feels both far too long and ridiculously short. He’s almost proud of himself for not reacting to anything when the last video rolls around. 

The basement that it films is far too familiar to Neil. It shows Baltimore, Lola and Romero standing behind his father as he cowers in front of him. Neil’s arms show the livid cuts and burns and his face is almost unrecognizable with the blood covering so much of it. Romero and his father move to hold him down while Lola gets the axe. 

Neil’s entire body flinches as he watches the scene. It feels worse to be watching than it did to actually be there. At the time he was in survival mode, just thinking about the next second. Now his head can replay exactly what it looked like as he rolled away just in time when the axe hit the concrete beside him, as Lola held his legs down and his face contorted in pain and terror, and as he crawled away while bullets riddled Romero. 

All Neil can think while he watches the worst moment of his life is that he’s incredibly grateful that there isn’t any sound to the video.

That’s when his lungs decide that he can’t handle any more oxygen. He barely notices the end of the video, too focused on trying to breathe. 

He has no idea how long he sits there, hyperventilating. It feels like forever that his muscle clench tight and shoulders rise in desperation and his body shakes violently.

“Get out of the way, give him some space,” he hears Andrew order, and the space around him gets colder.

“Neil, listen to me.” Andrew says close to his ear, shaking him a bit to get his attention. “Are you listening? It’s over, he’s dead. You’re at Palmetto State, you’re Neil Abram Josten.”

Neil’s lungs scream for air and he can barely hear Andrew over his gasping. 

“Abram.” Andrew says, and Neil nods to show him he’s trying to listen. “Abram,” he says again. His one hand holds the back of Neil’s neck, grounding him, while the other still clutches his hand.

“You aren’t there any more, it’s done.”

“Except it’s not, is it?” Kevin’s frantic voice punctures the air. “Because the Moriyama’s-”

His voice cuts off and there’s the sound of a scuffle. Neil ignores it to listen to Andrew.

“Stop it.” Andrew says, reminding him of that time in the hotel after Baltimore. Neil huffs out a choked laugh and leans his head back against the sofa to take a full breath. 

He stays like that until his breathe evens out and his body only shivers every once in a while. 

“He’s dead?” he says, meaning to say it as a statement but it coming out more as a question. 

Andrew leans over and bumps his forehead gently against Neil’s. “Yes, he’s dead. It’s over.”

Neil nods and opens his eyes finally. The room has emptied out and someone took the computer. Andrew hovers in front of him and Neil is shocked to see that his eyes are shiny. He gives Neil’s hand another squeeze before taking it away.

“I’m going to make tea. Do you want me to call Bee?”

Neil shakes his head no. He’s still getting settled with Betsy, and he knows that he’ll talk to her about this...eventually. Right now though, he just wants to make sure that his Foxes are okay.

“Where did everyone go?” he winces at his hoarse voice.

“Abby’s. We’re all staying there for the night.”

Neil opens his mouth to protest, but nods instead. “Can I have a shower first?” he finally says, though he isn’t sure how he’s going to get the strength to not only stand in a shower but then get to Abby’s after as well.

The simple chores seem like they would take herculean effort after this.

Andrew doesn’t respond, just hands Neil is warm mug and helps him to his feet. “No. I think a bath would be better.” Andrew says and Neil nods in relief.

They don’t have baths in the dorms, so Andrew packs them a bag and Neil follows him to the Maserati. 

His skin feels like it’s just been scrubbed and a part of Neil realizes that everyone just saw his life flash before their eyes. He feels naked after that, and he’s not sure how he’ll be able to face the team now that they’ve seen his darkest moments.

“Stop it.” Andrew says, eyes on the road.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking. You’re hurting my head.” Neil relaxes into a small smile and lets his head lean against the window.

 Stepping into Abby’s house is much harder than Neil thought that it would be. Andrew gives him a few minutes to stand outside in despair, but he eventually opens the door, ignoring the panicked look Neil gives him.

They’ve barely gotten inside before Nicky bowls him over in a tight hug. Neil tentatively hugs him back, not quite sure where to put his hands. Andrew pulls Nicky away when it gets to be too much, giving him a dirty look. Aaron nods in acknowledgement at Neil from the kitchen where he’s been coerced into helping Abby. Wymack and Kevin are nowhere to be seen, but Neil can hear murmuring coming from a bedroom down the hallway.

Matt is the next to approach, Dan in tow. He reaches out before looking at Andrew and tucking his hand back in Dans. 

“You know if you want to talk about anything…” he lets the sentence trail off and Neil nods gratefully. He’s been friends with Matt long enough that he might even be able to take up that offer someday. Dan pushes Nicky out of the way and hugs Neil fiercely, reminding him of that night that he finally told them the truth over a year ago.

Renee and Allison don’t move from the couch, giving Neil space. He’s grateful to that as well.

“You look awful,” Allison says bluntly, and the awkward tension in the air dissipates. Neil huffs and everyone moves back to the kitchen to help Abby.

Andrew nudges Neil forward. “He’s taking over the bath,” he states and Abby nods encouragingly.

“Let me know if you need anything. The last room on the left is yours for however long you need it.” She addresses that to both of them and Neil tries to smile at her.

Andrew ignores everyone else and tugs Neil to the bathroom, locking the door behind them. He gives him a bored look. Neil can tell he’s assessing the situation, checking to see how Neil is dealing with everything.

“Do you want me to leave?” he asks as he pulls clean clothing out of the bag for Neil.

“No. Could you… could you just talk for a bit?” Neil shifts around while he waits for Andrew to fill the tub. 

Andrew checks the water, back to Neil while he gets undressed. He waits for Neil to lower himself into the warm water before starting. He sits on the floor beside the tub and tells Neil about the week. His calm voice fills the air, first going through small stories that different members of the team have told him, then changing to explain the plots of books that Neil has never heard of. 

Finally, Neils muscles are able to relax. His back aches after being so tense for so long. 

Andrew doesn’t stop even as he towels off and puts on the clean sweats and large hoodie that covers all of his scars other than the ones on his face. He avoids looking at himself in the mirror while he changes.

Neil isn’t sure how long they’ve been in there, but Wymack and Kevin are in the kitchen by the time they get out. The colour has come back to Kevin’s cheeks but Neil notices how he sticks close to Wymack while they set the table. He gives him a sheepish nod when he notices Neils eyes on him.

Thankfully no one says anything about Andrew being in the bathroom with him while he bathed. Neil wasn’t sure he could deal with any kind of teasing at the moment, and everyone seems to sense that.

The rest of the group is huddled in the living room. Nicky and Matt are in the process of creating a blanket nest in the center of the room while Dan and Renee speak quietly in the corner and Allison searches through movies to watch.

“What’s this,” Andrew says with his usual lack of inflection.

“We’re going to watch Harry Potter,” Allison announces. Nicky doesn’t pause his blanket arranging, but Matt looks up to give Neil a reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry, you can have the couch,” he tells them. Andrew doesn’t respond, but starts herding Neil to the sofa where a few blankets have been left for them. Neil’s glad that everyone is treating him like normal, he’s not sure he would be able to hold himself together if everyone was overly sympathetic.

“Lie down,” Andrew mutters and tugs him down so he’s leaning against his shoulder.

“Is this okay?”

Andrew rolls his eyes and covers them with a blanket.

“This is the last chance for anyone to say no to Harry Potter,” Allison shouts so Wymack, Abby, and Kevin can here her from the kitchen. Nicky scoffs.

“Even if anyone did, we would have to watch it anyway.”

Allison grins and shoves everyone down into the blanket nest.

Neil has never seen Harry Potter, but he spends most of the movie inspecting the faces of his Foxes.

Kevin has calmed down and talks quietly with Wymack about plays until Nicky shushes them. Aaron is texting, Katelyn, Neil assumes. Everyone else is in a cuddle pile on the floor. It reminds Neil of when he came back from Baltimore. He would think that the reminder would be a bad one, but he can’t help but feel safe with all of them around.

When he looks up, Andrew is watching him instead of the movie.

“Staring,” Neil mumbles quietly.

Andrew nudges him and huffs. “How do you feel.”

Neil takes another look at the people who have wormed their way into his life. After all they’ve been through (most of it was even his fault), and not a single one of them turned him away.

Nicky sends him a bright grin then continues his commentary with Allison.

“Better.”

And for once, Neil isn’t lying. It may be tough now, but he knows that he has help to get back on his feet. 

He falls asleep quickly after that, and no one wakes him until late the next morning.

I recently saw a prompt on tumblr about what would happen if the Foxes saw videos of Neil's past, and so this was born. If you were able to read the books you should be able to read this, and I tried not to explain anything too graphically. There is a description of a panic attack. But since I can't help myself and all I want is for my fav characters to heal, this ends happily:)

[namjoonchronicles]

beautiful, tragic | yoongi

✿ pairing: yoongi x you ✿ genre: domestic, yoongi as a husband, fluff, suggestive content, slight smut ✿ words: 4k ✿ summary: it’s hard sharing your musically talented husband with the world, and this is your story.

Stay home. He says. Watch the house. He says.

You’re stuck, scrolling idly on your phone with your drama on Netflix long abandoned on your 85” Sony LED Screen, equipped with the sound system that would surpass Dolby Surround System if it ever went on competition with each other.

Apart from the boring international celeb news, who broke up and who got divorced, the politic scene is too awry for you to read and you were not prepared for that headache so early in the day. One particular headline caught your attention, though.

Billboard Judge, Music Producer Min Yoongi Purchases USD$3M UN Village Villa In Cash.

Excuse me, what?

Screenshot. Clicking the home button on your phone, you tapped on Kakao Talk app next and ignored the messages from your ex-classmates group that has mounted to 120 unread texts and straight to ‘Fish’ ID.

You had sent him the screenshot of the news clipping, and proceed to multi-text him the following:

????????? Why wasn’t I informed?? Yoongi. What did I tell you about purchasing things without a proper discussion? Behind my back?? The nerve?? Bitch, square up when you get home. I also have watched five episodes without you. Fuck you.

Delivered. The anger had made you toss your phone to the side on the couch. This stupid huge ass house he is never in. You grind your jaws, glaring at your wedding picture on the top corner of your wall. And he dares to buy another one. You can hear him whispering a silent fuck from the distant. Fuck--is quite right, Yoongi. Your phone dings a new message in less than twenty minutes. He had machine-gunned you with replies that your phone had trouble keeping up with. You crossed your arm, scoffing at the sight of his name blinking on your screen. Oh, now you want to call me.

Volume : 70%, 75%, 85%. Netflix show has dimmed the sound of his calls and desperate texts.

He just never learns, does he? You’re starting to feel like he feeds on these little arguments like ginseng soup--has to have it when he’s unwell or deprived of something. Now that’s something you didn’t share with him. Yoongi’s work prevents him to be home as often as he’d like, requires him to befriend sketchy men and women with hidden agendas, they also constantly separate you and him--all this, you know and understood from the beginning. But like flying kites, when kites with strings tend to stray too far, and stretched too long, it snaps. Especially when you’re the one at the end of the string, holding him down to earth with a promise of a golden ring, always the one waiting for his return. When the blizzards come, the storm arrives, you gripped tighter, but there’s no guarantee that he felt the tug even if he should.

Here lies his expertise on words. Here lies the test of loyalty. Here lie your trust and his devotion. Love is a gamble, isn’t it?

It was supposed to be a surprise :( I wanted to take you there when I come home, but the news spoiled it :( :( Good news is, it’s not fully furnished and we can go furniture shopping… I know you love decorating the house :) I’ll forgive you if you watch the same 5 episodes with me later Babe? :( :( You’re still fetching me at the airport right? Right, sweetie?

He sends a screenshot of his expected arrival time, and you skimmed pass the message with a blank look. You tap the camera icon and took a selfie of your middle finger.

Fish was immediately typing…

OK, but it’s difficult with jeans on.

You gawked as you realized that he was talking about fingering you. You snarled against the screen and tapped video call button.

But it was declined. And he replied immediately.

Can’t. In a crash meeting with the staff.

You put your phone close to your lips and tapped voice recording icon. And Yoongi knows better than to play it in the midst of a meeting. You’re roasting him and for that, he’ll keep for his lullaby on the way to the airport later with his good headphones on. He gave a goofy smile on the screen when you replied with middle-finger emoticons. “God, I love her…” he stares fondly at your ID.

Flight JN1741 from Amsterdam arrives at Incheon International Airport on 2:00 PM. Passengers begin to rise from their seat before the ‘fasten-your-seatbelt’ sign was turned off. Already, Yoongi’s massive entourage are receiving calls within the moving but landed airplane. His staff is dependable but workaholics, like he is. He was just worried that his wife won’t show up because she’s mad. But he’s also certain that she will be there at the arrival. He likes that you make him nervous this way. He likes that he could mean everything to the world, and has his words as law to others, but won’t necessarily have the same effect on you. He loves the fact that you keep him on his toes and make him chase. He also loves the fact that he knows you’ll be waiting at home where he left you as he works.

Loving and having are different things.

Yoongi of all people knows the constraints of having a serious relationship in his hectic life will be hard to manage. When he couldn’t meet his lady love, he relies heavily on her profound loyalty and his blinded trust. God knows that both of you tried. Both of you really tried to keep the passion alive, never to fizzle out. But distance could make or break a relationship--and Yoongi really wanted this. This battleground he chose to live in. He was lucky to have the best of both worlds. Most couldn’t experience that. To him, the game is only over when the other stops playing.

A conversation is a conversation, even if its a fight.

He refastens his black facemask, his black hoodie and stood up as the manager asks him whether he needs a ride home or not. The 40-year-old man walks away once Yoongi said that his wife is fetching him.

“Also, hyung...can you bring the iKey to the Apple Store I bought it in? It had malfunctioned again. I left the warranty card inside the pack,” Yoongi politely asked. “Every single time we leave Amsterdam… Yoongi what did you do with it?” The manager pulls the bag out the compartment above the head. “Work I guess…” Yoongi shrugged and fiddled with the straps of his black backpack.

Most of the passengers had left the airplane. But before Yoongi leaves with his manager, something metallic clinked on his sneakers. His manager crouched down before he did and picked the object up.

“Can’t forget the ring when you’re meeting the wife...take it from me,” his manager returns Yoongi’s ring to him. “It keeps slipping out my finger, I think I’m losing too much weight,” Yoongi chuckled short and put them back on with a small wiggle. “VIP arrivals that way…” His manager pointed the way out, “Tell her we missed her around.”

Yoongi nodded, feeling rather bashful and shy. That’s right. You used to work in his entourage as medical staff. Until he had you hitched and away from the stressful job that costs you your mental health. Now, you review staffs’ health records from home and frequently, his. You fell sick prior to the world tour he led, so that’s why he had you staying home. Not that you tailed him often when he works. He just prefers you doing your own thing. His work requires a lot of movement while you had to be static in one place to finish your writing or reading. You were that hot white coat bearer with a sexy full-rimmed glasses and spoke medicine parseltongue. Every time you share a piece of medical knowledge with him or explain a medical condition, Yoongi drools like a lovesick puppy dog inwardly. He can’t wait to have you explain liver cirrhosis everytime he brings up how much he drank when he was away. That was his version of dirty talk.

But where’s my lady love? Yoongi hums. Scanning the room for any glimpse of you. Could you be standing nearby a coffee vending machine, or would you be in convenient stores searching for a mint? Or are you strolling idly in the expanse of the airport in slow, relaxed strides?

No, you’re walking straight towards him with your arms crossed from the entrance, your hair flew back at every trudge you make to close the distance between him and you. He fumbles with the strap of his bag, and a bit slouched to the side. Having to push his head back to see your face from the beak of his black cap and hoodie, while you draw in, closer and closer.

Your hand came in contact with his at the handle of his roller bag first, before you leaned up to his ear and he lowered himself down, “You and I have a lot of things to talk about.” You snatched the roller bag from his grip roughly and Yoongi watched your back getting smaller and smaller as you stormed away. He pouts at the sight and gripping his bag strap tighter, firmer. You passed an acid glance once and expect him to follow closely with a glare. Yoongi’s pouty lips slowly form a smirk and a naughty cock of his eyebrow. He really enjoys it when you’re angry.

The trunk opens with a hydraulic rise, and he helped you carry his own bag inside. It slammed shut and you dashed to the driver seat, knowing that he is often exhausted after a long flight. Engine purrs on, and your focus was interrupted by the sound of his seatbelt clicking. He’s here. He’s really home.

“Do you want to eat anything? Some fast food or anything like that?” You asked. “Yeah, but she’s driving…” He glanced outside the car window like he had said nothing explicit.

“Ha, very funny…” the car reversed and exited the parking lot with no hiccups, but the situation isn’t going to be smooth on the inside, “Don’t think that snarky remarks will get you anywhere near this coochie.”

Yoongi let out a tiny scoff to the window, shifting in his seat as the view of the city he calls home, come to sight. Miraculously, he has made it home within a month. Although the reunion was bittersweet and that he landed on soil knowing that you’re mad at him, he is well-informed by your passive behavior when you missed him the most. That much is true. And it needs no extra explanation.

How was Amsterdam?

“Cold. Great sound system… decent steak,” he answered. You smiled to yourself, noticing how much you missed his aloof response. Few words, big heart. That’s Min Yoongi for you.

“I think I made a great steak a few days ago…” you took the chance to brag on yourself and Yoongi switches to the side where you sat driving. Hands between his knees, eyes doe and soft.

“Tell me more about what you did…” he said, in a gentle voice.

“Nothing much. I proofread a medical article, cooked for myself, write a bit, stare at the 2 selfies you took last two years. Sniff your hoodie, organize your shoe collection, vacuum GeniusLab2, visit Holly at your parents. I made him this cute ass leash that I knitted on my own. He had stomach flu, so I took him to the vets. He’s okay now, though.”

“I wanted to video call more, but I didn’t have the time…” Yoongi complaints.

“You don’t remember?” You crumpled your face at the road before glancing briefly at him. You could see Yoongi’s confused expression. Head tilted to the side, his mouth opens and closes several times without a word uttered out. He really didn’t remember.

“Baby bear, you called me twice in a drowsy state…” you offered a line of explanation but the contortion on his face suggests that he requires more, “You drunk video call me to tell me you had a sandwich and fell asleep before you could tell me what was inside… Three days after that, you called me again but you were already snoring when I answered.”

“I don’t recall…” he hums.

“Anyways, whatever… that’s cute though. Also, this 3 million villa you bought, what’s the story?” you snapped, at the same time, you turn at the corner of the city smoothly.

“It’s not a penthouse like you said I shouldn’t get, so technically, I didn’t go against your words,” he sang. “How on earth did you carry 3 million in cash?” You scowled. “With many briefcases,” he retorted with a thin smile.

You pressed your lips together to stop yourself from laughing because you wanted to be focused on being serious and mature. But the quick reply had you snickering. Such a matter-of-fact answer. His face lights up at your response.

“You said that we’re going to furniture shopping. Do you even have time to do that?” you stopped at the security cottage and flashed your residence card on the pad the divider retracts open.

“I knew you were going to make a dispute out of it. So I made sure Namjoon allows it,” Yoongi laced his fingers together, and made a dark chuckling sound.

“What did you do to him this time…” you felt uneasy already. The last time he wanted a day off, Yoongi hid Namjoon’s passport so the trip could be delayed for a day or two. He purchased a movie on Netflix and wanted to watch it with you.

He simply gave you that creepy smile and you already know.

“You put laxatives in his drinks, my god.” “It is my most brilliant plan of all.” “Yoongi!” “What...he said he was constipating. I am doing him a favor.”

Why wouldn’t he constipate from the amount of caffeine he had been consuming. You thought.

Everyone’s definition of success is different. Everyone’s definition of married life is also different. The married life you shared with Yoongi was entirely on a different level. There are no guidelines for marrying a music producer this world famous. So you focused on being a wife. If everything else in his life isn’t normal, then being married is.

The moment he steps inside the home he shared with you, you noticed he stifled a yawn. His eyes falling droopy at the sight of his long sought after nest.

“I’m going to get a late lunch going, and you can go lay down on the bed in your indoor clothes…” “No, I want to help in the kitchen…” “Look at your eyes, they’re barely open… go rest.”

But he wanted to unpack because he got you something.

“It’s a cross-stitch table runner…” he lays his head on his palm, curled on his side, watching your big grin as you unravel the precious gift. He remembered that you wanted to buy this the last time you were there. He got the correct design and correct color too.

“You got them custom-made,” you gasped excitedly, and then shrink your voice at him, “Thank you...it’s so pretty.” Pulling the runner into a hug while Yoongi chuckles sleepily.

Yoongi was less interested in his stories and more engaged in yours. All his relatives that he can call strangers because they rarely meet, his family members that have seen you more than they’ve seen him. He silently is grateful for you being here, being the glue between his family and close friends, an invincible knot that keeps him grounded and gave him the sense of belonging.

He drifts mid-through your stories and latest gossip. As you sat on the floor next to the bed, unpacking his luggage one-by-one, you no longer hear his response. You glanced to the side and saw him sleeping soundly. You could only imagine how many hours he could when he’s away in a foreign country. Yoongi somehow can appear to be sleeping but is in fact, listening to all the conversations surrounding him. You and he share that talent. But this time, he slept for real--the energy replenishing, body rejuvenating sleep. There’s soft snorings and little shudders from time to time. Your gaze fell from his fringes to his brows, down the slope of his nose and his doll-like lips.

Last clothing to be unpack looked familiar. It was yours. That’s endearing. He always packs one clothing that belonged to you. You know, for when he ‘misses his wife so much he could die’ moments. You don’t know when he snuck them in, but it’s probably when you’re busy at the living room, or the bathroom, making sure he didn’t forget anything. The luggage is taken away from the bedroom and into his home studio, where it stays until its service is required again--which you suspect, won’t be long.

You slid the blanket above his shoulder, and tuck him in like you would a child. He looks so tired and it breaks your heart that he has to leave again. It’s like a cycle. At least you can see him eat today, with your own eyes, so let’s get started with the lunch.

Nothing extravagant. Just broiled spinach, fermented white baby radish from last week, and warm chicken soup with ginseng to help him re-energized. But he isn’t awake yet. That’s alright, you can reheat everything when he’s up. He still needs his much-acquired sleep. With that thought, you disappear into the bathroom and undressed. Sweating from cooking, body sticky with remnants of watery expels urged you to shower before the sun is completely down. You don’t usually shower this early, but with Yoongi around, you felt self-conscious. He doesn’t know this, but you will always want to smell nice for him. Isn’t that the very core of being a wife? Being extra hygienic for the hubby? To keep him interested? Especially Yoongi, because he is constantly away and accompanied by many attractive females?

You discarded the dampened shirt outside the door of the bathroom and swung it shut as gently as you can. Off goes the bra, then the panties. The shower head expels drizzling liquid, the steam floats up to the ceiling and the glass door get fogged up from the heat. Water pools at your feet as you readied your face underneath the shower to come into contact with the sprinkles. The pleasure of a simple shower after a good sweat is ultimately unmatched.

So endorsed in your time alone, Yoongi pushes the door wider. He had come awake when he heard you turned the knob shut. He discarded his pants on the way, and pulled his black shirt over his head, charging forward like a soldier on his way to a battleground he intends to win. Then he discarded his last piece of clothing, his boxers. Afterward, he trudges into the shower cubicle where you were standing, facing away from him. “You thought I was too tired for a shower session with you?” His voice deeps lower than usual, as he snakes one arm around your naked waist, skin to skin, Yoongi sunk his teeth on your shoulder and you turned around wearing a big smile to greet him. “No I thought you wouldn’t be able to handle any sessions with me…” you smartly replied. Yoongi smiled into the kiss that began innocently enough and gradually increase in intensity and power as the seconds passed. Your arms slick against his shoulder as he held on palm flat on the walls of the shower, he stands directly underneath the shower head now--refusing to let go of your lips even when you tap out for a breath. A seasoned rapper’s lung capacity isn’t a shy away from a Navy diver. Provided with the long abstinence and accumulating want, Yoongi isn’t just going to stop here in the shower, best believe, he is going to continue making love to you in all the rooms available in this house until he’s finally sated.

His handprints on the fogged glass door is significantly larger than yours. The slippery sound of sliding skin filled your ears, and your strangled moans could only suggest an impending euphoric sensation you had longed for, since the last time he’s here. And Yoongi is a determined soul. The thrusts are languid and deep. From the way he buried his face in the crook of your neck, eliciting heavy desperate pants implies that he had been imagining this on his lonely nights for too long. His touches were too precise and calculated, coming from a veteran lover who knows his wife’s body like the back of his hand. Yoongi’s glazed orbs that greeted you in the midst of the steamy love-making, felt foreign yet familiar. But his lips that conquered yours right after the heaty glance was definitely, without a doubt, Yoongi’s. The time apart had made him a stranger to your body, and the passion that almost fizzled out from the distance had reignited to another degree.

“Fuck I miss you,” he breathlessly says against your ear. You didn’t stutter or faltered back into the lust like you used to when you first dated him. Instead, you smiled into his confessions and bit your grin--no longer shy to show how much you love having these moments with him. More, you encouraged him with your touches and sweet mewls.

I like the whispers you added at the end. She says.

No matter what the public critic might say, Yoongi’s only verdict comes from his wife. His true achievements and outcomes of his work rely heavily on what you may say. But your words can be sarcastic and Yoongi doesn’t like having to guess what you truly meant.

“You always say something like that…” “I don’t know what you want me to say,” you shrugged as you scooped out a bowl of rice for him, “I like the whisper part and that’s the truth.” “How many times did you listen to it… be honest,” Yoongi took his bowl from you.

You tipped your eyes up to the ceiling and clicked your tongue. Somehow Yoongi caught the expression.

“Are you serious…” he began, eyes following you as you pulled the chair next to him out, “Okay, fine. Do you listen more of Jimin’s Promise or my collab song?”

You added a long hum, not intending to give him the answer he wants to hear. “Technically, Jimin’s Promise came out first--”

“--don’t talk to me,” he darted.

Instinctively, you covered his knee with one palm, to soothe him. But of course, Yoongi wouldn’t let you console him that quickly.

“I spent nights writing that song while touring… Am I asking too much of you, to just listen to me more than you do Jimin’s, but no. Ultimately, I’m always the second choice for the industry AND my wife. Fine, I don’t care...I don’t want to care anymore. I worked so hard to earn money for you to spend, and all I’m requesting is that you be my harsh critic but you’re apparently too busy to listen to my songs. Hmm, I see how it is.”

“To even things out, you never told me you’re releasing a song…” you shrugged.

Yoongi set his chopstick down, clinking while you continued eating.

“To top it all, you watched dramas without me,” he tipped a glass of water into his mouth like he would a cup of soju, “Our drama.”

You knew he is just picking fights with you because to him, a fight is also a conversation.

“Gosh Alexa, this is so sad, play Seesaw,” you exclaimed with a forlorn sigh, “What do you propose I do? Wait for you until you come back? The second season would have begun by the time you returned, Yoongi… You have cities to tour, fans to meet and stages to check, and what about me? I have this house, Netflix and the chili plant outside. You’re being a little mean to me right now… my priorities aren’t always you, you know.”

Yoongi was deafened by the last sentence you said, that he couldn’t hear the rest of the off-topic conversations you promptly added after it. You didn’t seem to notice that you’ve hurt him. That’s the inspiration behind his rap verse ‘my razor tongue wife with a stone in her hand’. He likes that you’re honest and has trained you to be tougher, but the blade he sharpens strikes him once in a while when needed. He doesn’t apologize, he makes amends with his actions. He tries to be ultimately present when he’s here. When he’s home.

Like now, he sat on the floor, with a writing pad while you washed dishes.

“Turmeric powder. Can you check if it’s on the grocery list?” You raised your voice a little so he could hear from the living room. He puffed his cheeks with his cap turned backward, scanning down the awfully long list of things you needed to get for the family dinner this weekend.

“Nope,” he writes them scraggly underneath your neat writing. Then he heard you listed a number of things and gifts you planned to get before the weekend comes. Presents for your parents, and his; his nephews, his older brother’s birthday that he himself didn’t remember, a flower bouquet for his aunt who just opened a restaurant. He made a mental note to transfer a large amount of money into your account later.

“Is the villa far from here?” you asked him, wiping your kitchen stove down, spotless. “Not very… you’ll see when you drive there later,” Yoongi murmured to his chest, filling colors on the heart he drew on the grocery list, next to “Yoongi’s wife grocery list”.

“Also, I wanted to get grilled beef slices in that restaurant…” Yoongi promised to take you to the restaurant you had been wanting to go to, in two days time. Until a message from his manager came.

“...it would taste so damn good…” your mouth waters at the thought of it but when you looked across the counter at Yoongi perplexed gaze sitting on the floor there in the living room, you somehow caught what he didn’t, or rather--couldn’t say. That look could only mean one thing.

That the luggage you pushed into his studio is going to get another traveling sticker. That the restaurant trip is not going to happen. That you will be strolling aimlessly in this huge house. That you will be visiting the villa he bought alone. That your wedding picture and ring will be the only proof that you’re somehow married.

To the worldly loved, worldly known...the beautiful tragic, Min Yoongi.

Because he couldn’t keep his promise, you had him doing something similar to it. Peeking at his bobbing head, through your iPad playing Candy Crush, you smiled to yourself.

“Make sure you get all my toenails trimmed and neatened,” Yoongi lifts his head up short, sitting on the floor, with your heel digging onto his thigh as he nodded. “What color do you want for the polish?” He asked, getting cross-eyed as he hones the sharp edges of your nail, shorter.

“Your hair color right now…” “Babe, this is out of context…but” he dragged, “remember the voice note you sent me during the crash meeting with the staff?”

“The one I cursed at you? Yeah...why?” “It turns me on,” He hides his smile by lowering his face from you. What a strange yet tantalizing thought.

[corycadaver]

THE FASTEST & FURIOUSEST MOVIE SCRIPT

I have never seen a Fast & Furious movie. I have seen trailers and commercials for them, and I know very little about them from other sources as well. I got into a discussion with a friend that I could whip out a script for the next installment in the franchise in no time. There some spelling error and typos but anyways here it is, I hope you enjoy!

The Fastest and Furiousest A script by Cory Jezierski

Opening Scene, our main characters Jason Statham and The Rock are in their underground auto mechanic lair. It’s like the Bat Cave, but full of hi tech wrenches and sockets and  bad ass cars and weapons and posters of naked ladies. No bats. Our heroes seem to be unwinding after whatever happened in the last movie (I didn’t see it. I didn’t see any of them)

The Rock is mixing Monster Energy Drink, Bud Light & Diesel Fuel together in a blender. Jason Statham is organizing his prized collection of car wrenches.

JASON: Hey, The Rock.... that last mission was sick bro! It really but our friendship to the test while helping us to grow as people. I think I might retire after that one. Maybe take my cut and buy some land in Hawaii and open a garage.. call it “Pineapple’s” or something really exotic like that....

The Rock looks at Jason intensely but with a charming grin and pushes start on the blender. It blends for two minutes while the cameras slowly pan around the Rocks muscles. Not in a gay way though. The blender stops. He takes takes a long sip directly from the blender. He dosent need a cup becuase he is the Rock. Some of the liquid dribbles down his chin and onto his shirt, but not in a way that could be considered gay at all. He doesnt care about the stains on his muscle shirt because he will probably be top nude for the rest of the movie anyways. But not in a gay way. He chuckles at Jason Statham’s suggestion of retirement.

THE ROCK: You say that after every mission bro. You know you can’t give up this life. The fast cars and the furious cars are what you live for bro!

JASON STATHAM: (chuckles) yeah you are right bro. But one of these days I will say it and I will mean it. But damn, the rock, you are right! I love the fast cars and the furious cars!

The phone rings. Not a cell phone, but a special red landline phone that is under a small plastic case. Jason Statham answers the phone.

JASON STATHAM: Sup bra? ....... Oh shit.... Yes.... We’ll be there. (He hangs up the phone and turns to the Rock) It’s the President.

The scene fades to black. You hear the sound of engines roaring and cars driving very fastly and very furiously. The next scene fades in to two cars driving down a highway. They are very fast and they are very furious. Oil and fire are coming out of all the cars holes, but in a bad ass way, like they are totally supposed to be doing that. The cars do not need to go into the shop for repairs.

Zoom in to the Rock in his car. “Rock You Like a Hurricane” by the Scorpions plays very loud, but you still hear engines roar. He opens a Bud Lite and slams it. He opens a Monster Energy Drink and slams that next. He opens a can of Diesel Fuel and slams that next. He opens a second Bud Lite and slams that next. He burps in a very macho way, then makes an action to indicate he pushed onto the gas pedal even harder, making his car faster and louder than it already was! Transition to the cars pulling up to the White House. They both skid onto the lawn, leave the cars there and run fastly and furiously into the White House. The groundskeeper shakes his head when he see’s all the damage the cars tires did to his grass. Transition scene to the Oval Office, where The President, played by Bruce Willis is standing with his back to the desk looking out the window, and the Rock and Jason Statham are seated waiting for him to speak.

PRESIDENT BRUCE WILLIS: There’s no easy way for me to say this so I will be direct. The Rock’s brother, the one who is half cyborg, the one who you just put in prison yesterday... he broke out of prison and he’s kidnapped my daughter. We also think he has plans to blow up the Super Bowl. You’re the only ones who can stop him. (He turns around from looking out the window) You know I hate you fuckers becuase you do things so goddamn fast, and so goddamn furious that it makes me furious! But America needs you boys.

You hear a can crack open. The Rock and Jason Statham are both slamming Bud Lites. They look super pumped for this mission. The Rock is now top nude.

THE ROCK: We would never dream of letting America down Sir JASON STATHAM: He’s correct, America is where we live and where our cars live and also we hate cyborgs and love freedom. THE ROCK: You have our word President Bruce Willis, nothing will happen to your sexy daughter or the American Super Bowl PRESIDENT BRUCE WILLIS: If you assholes fuck this one up I will shove a bald eagle so far up your ass you will be shitting freedom for a week, but from a jail cell! Now get the fuck outta my office! And don’t even think about fingerbanging my daughter!!!!!

Our heroes get up and scurry out the door

“Rock You Like a Hurricane” from the Scorpions plays as the scene fades back to the boys in their cars. They are driving down the highway again, but this time you can tell they are driving faster and furiouser than before. They are headed to the see a freind about getting some new Cyborg killing weapons.

The scene cuts to an old abandoned warehouse, where the Rock’s Cyborg brother, played by a CGI Macho Man Randy Savage but voiced by Hulk Hogan, and who goes by the name Macho-Borg, is holding up with his gang and President Bruce Willis’ sexy daughter, played by Megan Fox. The camera pans in from a top view showing Macho-Borg and his hoodlums standing around a table looking at a map of George Washington Stadium where the Super Bowl will be played in a few weeks.

MACHO-BORG: This plan is foolproof! There is no way I can fail! In just a few weeks I will have blown up the Super Bowl with plutonium, removed the President from office and taken over the country! No one, not even my regular human brother The Rock and his fast driving and furious driving pals can put a stop to this!

The hoodlums nod in agreement and everyone laughs in an evil manner. Macho-Borg laughs louder and more evil than his henchmen though. The camera then moves to show Megan Fox-Willis leaning against the wall in a white tank top and daisy dukes laughing along with Macho-Borg and his pals!! She has a soda cup with a straw in her hand.

MEGAN FOX-WILLIS: I’m so glad I broke you out of prison and let my dumb ass Dad think you kidnapped me so that we could take over the country together! Being the President’s daughter was so boring! (She accidentally spills the soda all over her white tank top. It’s Mr Pibb) Oops! now I’m all sticky! I better take a shower and wash my boobs!

Megan Fox-Willis walks away. The scene briefly cuts to a steamy shower where you can see her figure outlined in steam. After roughly 15 minutes of that the scene fades back to the Rock in his car. You hear loud car noises indicating he is driving very, very fast. His video phone rings. You can see on the screen that the caller ID says “Vin Diesel” The Rock casually reaches over and hits “Decline” on the call. He dials Jason Statham, who immediately answers and you see his face on the screen. He is slamming a Monster Energy Drink.

THE ROCK: Did Vin Diesel try to call you? JASON STATHAM: Yeah. (he chuckles) I declined the call. THE ROCK: Yeah, me too. (he chuckles and the Bud Lite dispensary built into his dash shoots out a cold can for The Rock to crack open and chug like a boss) JASON STATHAM: Are you sure our old friend who deals in illegal weapons is gonna want to see us? Didn’t one of us fingerbang his wife on accident? THE ROCK: Don’t worry about that, I brought a gift for him!

The scene cuts to the two very fast cars driving through a narrow hole in a mountain which ascends into a cavern. You can see that the road is coming to an end very soon but the cars are not slowing down! At the last second each car makes a huge jump into complete darkness. You hear loud thuds. What happened? The darkness lingers for suspensful purposes. All of a sudden the zooming noises of fast cars comes back! There is light again! The cars are back on another narrow road and after another minute they come skidding to a stop. They have arrived at the secret lair of their old friend the illegal weapons dealer played by Snoop Dogg. Our heroes find themselves in front of a large metal door with a security camera pointed right at them. They hear Snoop Dogg’s voice over an intercom

SNOOP DOGG: I thought I told you son’s a bitches never to come back to my illegal weapons lair! THE ROCK: You did, but this is important. The fate of the American Super Bowl is at stake. Plus I brought you this (He holds up a very large bag of marijuana) SNOOP DOGG: Is that... are you fuckin’ with me? It can’t be? THE ROCK: Ya bro, it’s Rarijuana, the rarest strain of marijuana in the whole world. The only kind you have never smoked before. This whole 50 pounds of it is yours but you gotta help us kill my cyborg brother and save the American Super Bowl.

The metal door opens. The scene cuts to Snoop Dogg rolling a joint. A Cypress Hill song plays in the background (doesn’t matter which one) He lights it up, takes a puff and exhales

SNOOP DOGG: So why you wanna kill your Cyborg brother? I thought you put his ass in prison? THE ROCK: He got out. Again. I finally realized it’s my duty to kill him. I’m ready to do it this time. I just need a Cyborg killing weapon and you are the only illegal weapons dealer in the world who knows how to make them. JASON STATHAM: Were also sorry we accidentally did finger stuff with your wife. We had a lot of Bud Lite and we didn’t know your marriage was so serious. SNOOP DOGG: Alright boys, I’m in. I’m still kind a mad about the finger stuff but if this is for the sake of America I have to do it. Plus this weed is fuckin dope son! I got just what you need to kill that Cyborg prick.

The scene fades back to our heroes driving their cars super fast down the highway. Probably just use the same footage from earlier to save money. A different song is playing. It’s some sort of Bon Jovi song remixed with rapping on it. No one is actually sure if they like it or not but it doesnt matter. The Rock’s video phone starts ringing again. The caller ID Says Vin Diesel. He casually hits the decline button. He’s still top nude.

The hereos cars are shown driving into a small suburban area. They are not going very fast. They come to a proper stop (no skidding) in front of a small home. The heroes exit their cars, Monster Energy Drink in hand, head to the porch and ring the doorbell. The Rock’s Mother, played by Tyra Banks answers the door.

THE ROCKS MOM: Oh my goodness! What a surprise! My baby boy and his fast driving friend Jason Statham! Please come on in, I was just baking cookies! Would you like some lemonade? JASON STATHAM: No thanks ma’am, we brought some Monster Energy Drinks and Bud Lite’s with us. We never go anywhere without them, and if we do they are available almost everywhere that energy drinks and beer are sold! THE ROCKS MOM: Oh you boys and your drinks! (she laughs at her joke) Now tell me baby what brought you here THE ROCK: Mom... I don’t know how to say this, but it’s about my brother the cyborg.... THE ROCKS MOM: Oh Macho-Borg! He’s in the kitchen right now helping me with the cookies! JASON STATHAM: Crikey! (chugs the rest of his Monster Energy Drink, Cracks a Bud Lite) THE ROCK: I better go say hello (He looks very concerned, he briskly and with concealed fury heads towards the kitchen) You two stay here.....

Scene cuts to the kitchen. Macho-Borg is wearing an apron and leaning on the counter with his arms folded. He has been waiting for The Rock. He has a menacing grin on his stupid cyborg face.

MACHO-BORG: How predictable brother! I knew you would come here to tell Mother that you finally have to kill me. That is why you came here isn’t it? (He takes a bite out of a cookie) THE ROCK: You sly son of a bitch! You know I can’t whoop your ass here at Mom’s house because I have strong family values that only get stronger with each adventure I have! Now you mark my words if you are trying to blow up the American Super Bowl, I will kill you! I will rip off your Cyborg dick and shove it so far up your mechanical asshole that you will be shitting nuts and bolts for a week! MACHO-BORG: HA! You just wait little brother, you have no idea what’s coming! THE ROCK: And where’s the Presidents sexy daughter? If you put a finger up her, I swear to God (Macho-Borg interrupts him) MACHO-BORG: Oh I put more than a finger in her! And I’m gonna put more than a finger in your precious President before I’m done.... (Mom walks in, the boys relax their posture and pretend they were getting along) THE ROCKS MOM: Now what’s all the racket in here? You boys better be getting along our no ones getting any cookies! MACHO-BORG: Everythings fine Mom, I was just telling The Rock the same story I told you about how I was legally let out of prison becuase I’m super innocent and never did any crimes. THE ROCKS MOM: Yes my baby, I’m sure your brother The Rock realizes now how innocent you were. Now let’s go to the living room and eat cookies and discuss our strong family values!

Everyone heads to the living room for cookies and Bud Lite. Macho-Borg excuses himself first, saying he has work to do so he has to leave. The Rock and Jason Statham excuse themselves for the same reason. It’s a bunch of bulls shit but it segues to a bad ass car chase. Soon we see Macho-Borg driving fastly down the highway followed closely by the Rock and Jason Statham in their cherry red hot rod super cars. You see the cars zoom and zip and zap all over the road, moving from left to right very fastly and very furiously. The engines are loud and the tires are loud and there is smoke and sparks all over. Overhead views of the cars are cut with split seconds of the drivers gripping their steering wheels very furiously. “Kickstart My Heart” from Motley Crue plays under the car noises. If your drunk uncle was still alive he would lose his shit over this scene. This bull shit goes on until the song ends then Macho-Borg shoots oil slicks out of the back of his car, giving him the edge over his persuers and ultimately gives them the slip.

The scene cuts to our heroes lair. The Rock and Jason Statham are pacing furiously around the room, throwing punches in the air and grunting.

THE ROCK: FUCK! We were so close! I can’t believe we fell for that oil slick bullshit! FUCK! (he throws both his fists into some drywall, when he pulls them out he has a Bud Lite in each fist!) JASON Statham: I feel like a fool too bro, but we need to start focusing on saving the American Football Super Bowl, we know that’s his next move. THE ROCK: (throws down the empy Bud Lites he just slammed like a boss) You’re right bro. Let’s do this! (He embraces Jason Statham and gives him a fast peck on the cheek)

The scene fades to only 1 car on the highway. The Rock and Jason Statham are sharing a car this time, as they are undercover. The video phone rings. Thinking it’s Vin Diesel, they both reach for the decline button. Then the realzie that it’s President Bruce Willis and draw their hands back. They mutter some cuss words then one of them presses the button to answer the call

PRESIDENT BRUCE WILLIS: Where the fuck is my daughter you goddamn third rate A-Team wanna be assholes? Looks like your out for a joyride while that animal Macho-Borg is probably 3 fingers deep in her B-Hole! Get your asses to the Superbowl and save America or so help me I will shove an American Flag so far up your ass it will come out your skull so the whole US Military can salute it! FUCK YOU! (He hangs up. Our heroes did not get a word in)THE ROCK: He sounds kinda mad. Our plan better work

The scene fades to the New England Patriots NFL practice. Head Coach Bill Bellicheck has all of his players huddled around waiting for him to instruct them on their next practice drills. All of a sudden The Rock emerges from behind him in full NFL Football gear. He wears the number 01 on his Jersery. He stands next to the Coach

COACH BILL: Listen up you fuckin’ football players, this is The Rock. He’s our new Quarterback for the Superbowl. That’s right, you heard me! Tom Brady your’e benched!

The football players all look shocked as fuck. Tom Brady on the bench? For this unkown player? For the Super Bowl? What could the explanation for this be?

THE ROCK: Now I know this shit seems crazy, but you just have to trust me as your new Quarterback for the NFL American Superbowl. I hope eventually you can accept me as family and we grow a strong bond together (He opens a Monster Energy Drink and takes a little tiny sip) COACH BILL: That’s right Maggots! The Rock is in charge of this team now! Drop and give me 500!

The camera pans to Jason Statham, who is looking for suspicious activity from the top of the bleachers with binoculars. At the opposite end of the field he sees some janitors and other workers moving trash cans and cleaning things up getting ready for the big game. He sees vendors stocking carts in the bleachers. He gets on his walkie talkie and let’s the Rock know he doesn’t see anything suspcious yet. The Rock talks back to him on his secret helmet communicator and let’s him know to keep his eyes open becuase the game begins in a few hours. The scene fades to the basement of the stadium where Macho-Borg and his goons are dressed up like stadium janitors and are loading the plutonium bomb into a hot dog cart. The camera pans to people lining up outside of the George Washington Stadium. Then it pans to a VIP booth where President Bruce Willis has already been escorted in before the crowd. He is surrounded by Men In Black. One of them is Tommy Lee Jones. You can tell shit is fastly getting serious and is no doubt about to get furious! Fade to the Patriots locker room. The Rock is giving a motivational speech to the team he just joined hours ago. He is only wearing a towel around his waste. The towel has a little red corvette embroidered on it.

THE ROCK: I know we only recently formed a strong bond during our brief practice on the field and somewhat longer time in the showers afterwards, but I already feel like we are becoming family, and we all know that’s what it takes to win a Superbowl, am I right team? (He cracks a Bud Lite) COACH BILL: OH HELL YEAH FOOTBALL PLAYERS!!!!! (He slaps the Rock on the ass) The football players all yell and scream in excitement and crack their own Bud Lites and slap eachother’s assess silly. Except for Tom Brady he is sitting on a bench on the other end of the locker room with his Supermodel wife counting huge stacks of money. They are both nude.

It’s gametime. The stadium is full of excited people. The teams take the field. The announcer tells the crowd that Tom Brady is not playing tonight. The crowd is pissed off beyond belief.  The Patriots get the ball first. First snap of the game The Rock throws the ball all the way down to the end zone and scores a touchdown. The crowd now loves him. The Patriots defense takes the field and the Rock gets on his secret helmet cam to Jason Stathom. Jason is wondering the basement of the stadium frantically searching for the bomb or Macho-Borg or one of his goons. Anything to help end this movie. He is now with Michelle Rodriguez and some pit bulls.

THE ROCK: Anything yet? We need to find that bomb! JASON: Not yet, but I’ve called in some back up. Our intel says Macho-Borg plans to blow things up during the halftime show THE ROCK: If he fucks up the DMX half time show I will kill him twice! JASON: I know you love DMX but focus on stalling the game! MICHELLE RODRIGUEZ: Yeah let your ego go and throw a few interceptions ya big lunk! THE ROCK: Michelle! What are you doing here? JASON: That’s the back up I told you about! THE ROCK: I’ll stall the game the best I can, you keep looking for by brother so I can kill him and save America! I gotta take the field, The Rock out.

Fade to an unknown part of the stadium. Macho-Borg, Megan Fox-Willis and some goons have DMX tied to a chair. Everyone has huge guns and cool ninja weapons and theres some pit bulls. They are watching the field from a monitor.

GOON#1: That new Quarterback the Patriots have is insane! Damn! (The goon falls to the ground with a smoking hole in his head. Macho-Borg towers over him with smoke coming from his machine gun) MACHO-BORG: Touchdown bitch. (he glances over all the other goons) Any other Patriots fans here? I didn’t think so. (Megan Fox-Willis is obviously turned on by this. I guess show her hard nips blasting out her white tank top or something. Macho-Borg grabs her waste and shoves his robot tongue down her throat for a minute) I can’t wait until half time (He begins evil laughter, everyone else follows) AMERICA WILL BE MINE!!!!! (more evil laughter)

Fade back to the field. There is only a minute left on the game clock. It’s almost half time. The Patriots are beating whatever team they are playing by a score of 28-0. You see the Rock on the sideline looking frantic, but battle ready. Pan to President Bruce Willis in his VIP box, his fists are wrapped tightly around crushed Bud Lite cans, he is angry as fuck. Pan to Jason and Michelle and her pit bulls still searching the stadium for Macho-Borg and the bomb. Pan to unsuspecting crowd members going crazy over the game. Pan to Tom Brady making love to his supermodel wife on a huge pile of 500 dollar bills in the locker room. Pan to DMX tied to a chair in a dim closet. Pan to the hot dog cart with the plutonium bomb inside it. Pan to Megan Fox-Willis buttcheeks in tight jeans with a small oil stain on them. Pan to a Monster Energy Drink ad on the jumbotron. Halftime is here. Shit is about to pop off son!!!!

The clock hits zero, the buzzer rings. The teams leave the field and in a few short minutes a large stage is erected on the field for DMX. All of America is watching at home on the television, they can’t wait to hear him perform a medley of songs that they kind of remember from 30 years ago. The beat drops as a man parachutes from a helicopter above with a microphone in his hand. but when the man lands it’s not DMX! It’s not even a man! It’s Macho-Borg! The crowd looks confused and upset. the beat stops with the sound of a screeching record. Goons with machine guns and ninja weapons and pit bulls fill the stage around him.

MACHO-BORG: Listen up America! I’ve planted a plutonium atomic bomb in this stadium and unless you give me 10 million dollars and let me be the President, then you will never find out how the American Superbowl ends! On top of the bomb I’ve planted, I’ve got The Presidents daughter and America’s Sweetheart DMX held hostage so don’t even think about fucking with me! If I see any sign of the Rock or anyone else trying to stop me I will blast plutonium up all your asses so hard there won’t be any more asses to blast! Speaking of the Rock send him up here, unarmed so I can execute his punk ass in front of the whole world!!!!

All of a sudden a cherry read super sports car blast through the tunnel where the players take the field from, it’s  going faster than any car in this movie has gone! It’s clearly the most furious car as well. The car hits a ramp that’s there for some reason and flies onto the stage, wiping out half the goons with guns (the dogs scurry away unharmed) and comes to a skidding halt half inch from Macho-Borg. The door opens up like the Delorean in back to the future, smoke poors out. It’s the Rock! He jumps out the car. He’s top nude.

THE ROCK: You wanted me, here I am, unarmed...except for these arms! (He flexes his muscles and tosses his arms up in cool fight poses) MACHO-BORG: You arrogant bastard! You think I won’t blow this place sky high with both of us here? You don’t have a choice! You need to bow down and kiss my Cyborg ass or America is done for! THE ROCK: You’re forgetting one thing Macho-Borg. I’ve formed strong bonds and grown closer to my friends over many adventures and we have heart, we are family! One time you were my brother, but now your just an evil cyborg, and evil cyborgs can’t win! MACHO-BORG: ENOUGH!!!!! This ends now!!!! THE ROCK: You’re right.....

The camera pans up to the sky. Optimus Prime is floating down, he gently scoops up the hot dog cart with the bomb in it and jets back up to the sky, throwing it into the sun. You see it explode.

MACHO-BORG: NO! NO! NOOOOOOOO!!!!! (He’s on his hands and knees now, he knows he has been defeated. But probably not without a sweet car chase)

Jason Stathom and Michelle Rodriguez have now made it to the stage. DMX and an ton of pit bulls are with them. They have sweet machine guns and Monste Energy Drinks.

JASON: What just happened? THE ROCK: That’s my son Optimus Prime. You’re not the only one who called in for back up! MICHELLE: Your son?!?!?! THE ROCK: I don’t have time to explain right now, we need to get this creep to a private area so I can execute him. (The turn back to Macho-Borg but he is gone!) JASON: Shit.... (He points to the VIP box above) Where’s President Bruce Willis? DMX: You guys go, I got things under control here! (He pics up the microphone and makes dog noises and the music comes back on)

The crowd goes fucking nuts, this was the best half time show they ever saw. The Rock, Jason and Michelle jump into the car on stage and fastly drive away. Pan to DMX rocking the stage with whatever song is cheapest to license. Pan to Tom Brady in the locker room suiting up with a smirk on his face. Pan to Optimus Prime flying further into space back to Endor. Pan to Macho-Borg and Megan Fox-Willis in a fast driving sports car with President Bruce Willis tied up and passed out in the back seat.

MEGAN FOX-WILLIS: Damn the Rock and his sexy abs and huge muscles and smooth balls! Now what are we going to do? The plutonium bomb is gone, DMX is back on stage, the Superbowl is safe! We still have my Dad the President, but how are we going to make this work? We need to take over America or I’m not letting you do sex to me anymore with your weird robot dink! MACHO-BORG: We go back to our lair and figure this out. We still have the President, we can still take America! Settle down! MEGAN F-W: But what about the Rock and his fast driving and furious driving friends that he has formed family like bonds with? Why didn’t you blast him with your machine gun on the stage? You just had run your mouth when you should have been shooting! Maybe I should have let you rot in prison! You can’t get this job done you wack ass cyborg fuck! Second rate Terminator! I should dump you at the scrap yard! MACHO-BORG: You dumb... SHIT! we’ve got company (Three super fast sports cars can be seen in his rearview mirror)

Here is the big ass car chase that everyone is waiting for.  The cars go fast all over various roads and in tunnels and over bridges and valleys and deserts and whatever the fuck else. Just lots of the same shit you have seen earlier in this film and in the other films. Finally, Macho-Borg pushes a button in his car and it starts to transform into a Cyborg car. It looks like a normal car to begin with, then it gets taller, wider, metallic armor starts to cover it, the wheels get bigger. It basically looks like some crazy sci-fi monster truck with weapons. It has a huge Monster Energy drink logo on the hood. You see the 3 drivers of the other car (The Rock, Jason Stathom and Michelle Rodriguez) get surprised looks on their faces, they know they are in for the biggest battle yet. The heroes communicate on their radios

JASON: WHAT THE HELL?!?!?! MICHELLE: You must be seeing what I’m seeing! THE ROCK: Alright team, it’s time to kick ass and form a deeper family bond while we do it! I’m gonna kill the shit out of my cyborg brother once and for all! (He cracks a Bud Lite as expected) JASON: Were with you bro! Let’s do this for America!

You hear engines roaring and tires skidding and all that car shit. Macho-Borgs sci-fi monster truck has stopped and is turned to face our heroes, waiting for them to catch up, taunting them by shooting flames out of some huge ass guns on the hood. All 3 of the heroes cars get about a quarter mile away from the Cybrog truck and skid to a stop. They talk to each other on their radios again

JASON: I’m definitely retiring after this shit. How do we do this The Rock? MICHELLE: Yeah what is the plan here? THE ROCK: You two stay put, I got this.

The Rock gets out of his car and starts walking towards the sci-fi monster truck. He leaps in the air with all the fury and fastness he can, he punches the truck square in the grill and the whole truck falls apart into rubble and nuts and bolts. You can see Macho-Borg, President Bruce Willis and Megan Fox-Willis lying on the ground in the rubble, spread out from each other. Macho-Borg is the only one who gets up. He stumbles over to The Rock. He is in bad shape.

MACHO-BORG: You were right brother, I was a piece of shit. THE ROCK: I’m always right.

The Rock puts his fist through his brothers chest and pulls out a half human - half cyborg heart. It’s dripping with both oil and blood. He eats it. Macho-Borg falls dead to the ground. The Rock pulls out his boner and takes a piss on his brothers corpse. Jason and Michelle look on from the distance, they are both super impressed with their friend. They feel like they have formed a closer family bond with him. The President and his daughter have got up now too. Everyone is huddled around each other now enjoying the victory. They don’t realize that Megan Fox-Willis was the once responsible for breaking Macho-Borg out of prison and aiding him in his evil plans.

PRESIDENT BRUCE WILLIS: You fast and furious fucks nearly killed me and killed America, but you pulled it off. I still hate you but I give credit where it is due. The Rock, if you want to bang my daughter that is fine now, just get me back to the White House I have important President shit to do. THE ROCK: On behalf of all of us, you are welcome. I might bang your daughter later, thanks. Michelle will take you back to the White House. You know how to reach us sir. God bless the USA

The scene fades back to the heroes lair, the same setting as the beginning of the movie. They are realxing after the mission, pondering their futures.

JASON: Well The Rock, I’m definitely retiring. I’m booking a flight to Hawaii tonight. I just want to thank you for all the adventures and brotherly love. THE ROCK: You know brother, I believe you this time. I love you, but not in a gay way. (They hug and kiss on the lips) JASON: What are you gonna do? THE ROCK: I’m going to space to see my son, Optimus Prime, we have some business to take care of and to tell you the truth, I haven’t been a very good father.... JASON: You know, you are gonn have to explain that one to me sometime

The conversation is interrupted by a video phone ringing. It’s Vin Diesel. Jason reaches over and accepts the call

JASON: Vin, what’s up? VIN DIESEL: I’ve been trying to reach you guys all week! I heard that Macho-Borg broke out of prison! I smell an adventure cooking!

The Rock and Jason Statham laugh and hit the button to hang up. The credits roll as you hear the sound of a Bud Lite cracking open, then you hear some car noises then some butt rock song remixed with DMX rapping over it plays. The audience goes home to clean the poop and jizz out of their pants.

[sp4c3-0ddity]

the eve of it all

technically i had this idea before season eight so it doesn’t have any real spoilers, but i didn’t write it till after so you can consider it a fluffy little fix-it that disregards it entirely if you like (i know i am lol)

~1800 words. enjoy!! <3

The eve of their launch back into space, diving deep into the unknown, and Pidge can’t sleep. Streetlights shine through the thin curtains covering her bedroom window, plastic stars stuck to the ceiling glowing green, her old-fashioned alarm clock’s digital display a sharp red on her tired eyes. But she can’t do anything but stew.

Lance never showed up to their weekly game night - their last before leaving Earth for who knew how long.

The engine of an old car roars as it drives past her family’s home. Shadows fill her room, a room both familiar and not, wider than the walls she grew used to first on the Castle of Lions then on their intergalactic road trip residing entirely in the Green Lion.

Pidge sighs and turns over, putting her back to the window, and clutches her mermaid plushy to her chest before beginning to list the chemical elements. “Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium, boron…”

She’s halfway through the third period when a sharp thwack against her window interrupts.

Pidge’s breath catches as she bolts upright, unsure if she imagined it or if it’s just a nocturnal crow rapping its beak on the glass like in that poem they read in eighth grade English. But when something else strikes the window, she jumps out of bed and dashes for the window.

Pidge nudges the curtains aside and peeks through the crack between them towards a shadowy figure standing in the dirt in the front yard. “What the quiznak?” she mumbles, her eyes narrowing in confusion.

The figure bends down, fingers scraping the ground before straightening, and when they move a streetlight shines on his face.

Her eyes widen, her heart skipping a traitorous beat as she fumbles for the window latch. She pushes it up and sticks her head through the gaping hole in the screen to hiss, “Lance?”

Lance raises his hand, a shadow of a hesitant smile on his face, but it falls, his eyes shooting wide in panic, when Pidge moves to slam the glass down. “Pidge, w-wait!” he shouts, voice bursting through a too-silent night.

Pidge’s hands freeze, her chest tightening with renewed hurt that he stood her up only to have the audacity to appear while she’s trying to sleep. She glares down at him and demands, “Why should I?”

He lifts a paper bag, shaking it so something inside rattles, and offers, “I brought peanut butter cookies?”

Her lips twist into a scowl. “You think you can bribe me so easily?” she retorts.

Lance’s gaze drifts away, shoulders slumping and bag lowering. “I was hoping you’d at least hear me out.”

She drums her fingernails against the glass, considering. No trace of exhaustion remains to her, and her heart pounds wildly with both anger and the…implications behind him simply lobbing pebbles at her bedroom window.

And, well, she’s always been a little weak to any hint of him moping.

Pidge sighs and says, “Fine. I guess it’s better we talk about this before we launch in the morning.” Lance pumps his fist as he breaks into a wide grin that only warms her (how will she sustain her anger like this?), but before he can say anything else, she adds, “I’ll let you in through the front door, but be quiet. My parents are asleep.”

(She hopes; her mother always makes sure her bedroom door is open anytime Lance is there, as if he ever wants to get up to something besides play video games and talk with her, so she can only imagine how she’d react to a nighttime visit.)

Lance flashes her a thumb’s up as she shuts and latches the window. She pushes her bedroom door open, wincing at the squeaking of the hinges, and tiptoes through the hallway past her parents’ bedroom and down the blessedly carpeted stairs to the front door. The deadbolt scrapes out, and Pidge swings the door in.

Lance steps over the threshold before she properly invites him in, his arms raised before he seems to think better of hugging her. Now, face to face, her irritation with him doesn’t fade, but something about seeing him smiling hopefully tempers it.

“Pidge—”

She shushes him with a finger to her lips and a glower, nodding for him to follow her upstairs once she closes and locks the door. She doesn’t exhale until her bedroom door clicks shut.

She rounds on him right as he opens his mouth and demands, “Where were you?”

“I was, uh…” His gaze roves around the room, lingering on her bed in its disarray, and quietly confesses, “I was on a date with Allura.”

Pidge blinks, his words slow to penetrate her keyed up yet somehow still sleep-deprived brain, but after mulling them over, letting them echo through her mind, her heart drops into her stomach, accompanied by a knot of dread.

She never could snuff out that hopeful whisper that lived in her so long as he stayed single, that thought she had a chance, that one day Lance would get over Allura and finally look twice at her. And the fact he went on a date without even telling her - without at least canceling their weekly game night - knocks the air from her lungs.

“B-but you and I had plans,” Pidge protests feebly. Where is her anger now? “You could’ve at least told me.”

“I should’ve,” Lance admits. He sets the paper bag of cookies on her desk and approaches her. “I’m sorry, Pidge. It was just—”

“Just what, Lance?” she says. Her fingers curl into fists, spine stiffening and - ah, her frustration’s back in full force. “How hard is it to pick up a phone and call me and say, I can’t come to our last game night on Earth for who knows how long because I made a date with someone else?”

He shifts his feet, but his gaze finally snaps to hers. “I don’t have a good excuse,” Lance says. “I was going to tell you - quiznak knows I did start to call you more than once - but…” He stuffs his hands into his pants’ pockets - a nicer dark wash of jeans, Pidge now bothers to notice - and shrugs, his whole demeanor almost painfully defeated.

She rolls her eyes, refusing to be moved. “I’m guessing you’re here because it didn’t go well,” Pidge says.

“Actually, it kind of did,” Lance says, “but also kind of didn’t.”

She quirks an eyebrow, more confused than annoyed. “What does that even mean?”

He sighs and sits on the edge of her bed, staring past her at her bookshelves riddled with textbooks, fantasy novels, superhero figurines, and stuffed animals. Everything she owns, all her interests that most people (including her own mother) usually disdain as childish, are on full display; she’s never bothered to hide them, and Lance has never commented beyond admiration - such as jealousy that some rare collectible sits on her shelf or that she has a box tucked in her closet full of older mint condition comic books she and Matt spent years hunting down - but a part of her can’t help but worry that one day he - or any of her teammates - will.

Geek, nerd, weirdo…all insults - and worse - thrown at her by peers, but never by Lance or her other friends.

(And why is she even thinking about this now?)

“I’m not sure,” Lance says. His fingers run through his hair and he adds, “But there won’t be a second date.”

His words send a shock through Pidge, a relieved giddiness filling her and pushing a smile onto her face. But she bites her lip to suppress it right as Lance looks up, and the implication of what he said hits her.

Her eyes snap open, her chest squeezing and guilt hitting her, and she offers, “I-I’m sorry, Lance. I know how much you like her.”

“Eh…it’s not really that.” He shrugs and smiles slightly. “It was kind of my idea to not go on another date; I’m not even sure I liked her as much as I thought I did.”

“O-oh,” Pidge says, unsure what to add. She perches beside him and rests a hand on his arm. “You still…okay with it?”

His nod is slow and hesitant at first, but it’s more vigorous before long, a smile stretching his lips as he turns and meets her eyes. “Yeah, I think I am,” he says. “Besides, it didn’t feel right that I blew you off just to go on it.”

And they’re back again. Her lips twist into a frown, but his not-quite reassurance fills her stomach with a familiar fluttering. “You going to make it up to me, Sharpshooter?” she wonders, nudging him in the side with her elbow.

Lance gestures towards her desk with a gasp of affront. “I brought your favorite cookies; what more do you want?”

Pidge laughs. “You think I can be bought so easily, Lance?”

He rolls his eyes and grumbles, “What else do you want from me, Pidge?”

She thinks for a second, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully as she taps her chin. “The Game Flux must be in my room on the Atlas,” she decides.

Lance buries his face in his hands, releasing a muffled groan. “A cruel and unusual punishment,” he whines.

“Commit the crime, do the time.” Pidge scuffs her bare feet over her shaggy carpet, leaning back on her hands and staring up at the glow-in-the-dark stars and the globes of Earth and the moon on her highest shelf. Soon…

“Fine.” Lance flops backwards, lying beside her with his legs hanging off the end of the bed. “Anything else, cruel overlord Pidge?”

She smirks and pronounces, “You have to carry me anywhere I want to go once we’re back in space.”

Lance quirks an eyebrow. “Seriously?” When she nods, he sighs and says, “You’re lucky you’re so small…but how long?”

“Until I forgive you for standing me up on our last game night on Earth,” Pidge tells him. She nudges his shin with her toe, warmth spreading through her chest when he turns his head to glance at her.

But his face falls in obvious dismay. He wonders, “And when the quiznak will that be?”

Pidge can’t help her smile as she lies down next to him and rests her hands over her racing heart. She’s already forgiven him, she thinks, but she likes seeing him squirm and the Game Flux is payback for when he stole her rigging for his room on the Castle, and the carrying…

Well, sometimes a girl gets lazy and busy defending the universe and needs a reason for her crush to cradle her in his arms.

But aloud, she says, “Just wait and find out.”

[lakecountylibrary]

What degree does someone have to have in order to be called a librarian if they don't have the job title librarian? What is a typical day like for library employees of any position?

Good questions! Grab a snack, this got a little long.

What degree do you need to be calleda librarian:

Here at LCPL we require everyone withthe librarian job title to have their MLS (Master of LibraryScience). However, that’s not true of all libraries. Some librariesmay only require an MLS for the higher positions, like directors or admin, so someone with a bachelor’s could certainly be called alibrarian in some cases.

We also have Assistant Librarians.Assistant Librarians may not have an MLS. They might be working towardit, or not, but a bachelor’s degree is sufficient for this position.

We do require Assistant Librarians (andmany other positions) to be working toward their librarycertification, but that’s a state requirement - it may vary state tostate. (Here in Indiana, qualifying for your certification requiresearning a certain number of Library Education Units, which you getby going to classes, watching webinars, or attending training relatedto your job. The number of units you need depends on your position,but the state provides a LOT of opportunities to earn them and it’sgenerally pretty easy to end up with way more than you need.)

TL;DR: it depends on the library! But honestly, to most people, if you work in a library you’re a librarian ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

What is a typical day like forlibrary employees in different positions:

I asked the whole Tumblr team to tossin their two cents since we’ve got people from lots of differentpositions contributing to this blog. Not everyone has gotten back to me yet since we’re all working different schedules, but I didn’t want to leave you hanging. If I hear back from more people, I’ll add on to this post.

As you might expect, librarystaff like words so it got a little long. We’ll add a Read More to save your dash. Here’s what we’ve got:

Chris (Librarian, Branch Head):My#1 tip - learn how to plunge an overflowing toilet without gettingyour shoes wet.

My actual advice -

A typical day is dealing with whateverthe library users throw at you. So, there’s a lot of variety and youhave to like working with people of all types.

Sarah (Programming & CollectionPerformance Librarian):Hmm…be prepared to take whatever isthrown at you on a daily basis. Whether that’s:

 a patron who has nevertouched a computer before being told that they must apply for a jobonline (and they need a library card, e-mail address, resume, and alot of hands-on help for every step) 

a patron with a referencequestion about how to burn up human bodies (no joke, thank goodness Iremembered this patron had a class on criminal forensics but didn’tknow how to phrase a question)

a teen program that you put yourheart and soul into where no one showed up (or the reverse, a teenprogram you put your heart and soul into - and far more people thanyou were able to handle showed up). 

Patience is key.

You’re also often the first place aperson who has just gotten a diagnosis from a doctor, and needsresources on how to manage it, goes. Empathy and understanding isalso key, and a willingness to go the extra mile so that yourpatrons know that they’re getting the most up-to-date and verifiedinformation.

Your library is a place where peoplecan also find connection - young parents looking for support andunderstanding from other parents at storytime, that lonely teen atyour program finally finding another teen with the same enthusiasmfor manga, members of a book club who have kept attending for years -and not just for the books.

You’ve got to plan long-range and beable to handle spur-of-the-moment situations. You will deal withpeople who are the kindest souls and the most reverent readers ofbooks, and the person driving a new Mercedes-Benz who pitches aliteral tantrum over a ten-cent fine. You’ll evaluate databases,choose new materials for the library, plan programs, and connect withcommunity members who can introduce the rest of the community to newideas, music, art, discussion, etc.

You’ll help people find thecorrect legal documents, students find the resources they need,introduce local businesspersons to databases that can revolutionizetheir business plan. You’ll need to adapt to new forms of technology- because your patrons will have questions about it. You’ll also needto be able to smile and give a tactful response when you get thatfamiliar question, “Hasn’t the internet replaced libraries?”

Beth (Librarian, Branch Head):

The library works as a team–allpeople/positions are important. I started as a clerk with my MLS(librarian positions were few due to the recession and hiringfreezes) and I value that experience every day. To the patrons whovisit the library–everyone is a librarian. I think this helps keepany “egos” in check–they value the clerks, tech,paraprofessionals, pages and professionals the same.

As a Librarian/Branch Head, duties runthe gamut. Some days I work the desk with a clerk checking in/outmaterials, pulling items, answering calls, helping at the copymachine. Some days I’m in full program/event mode–planning programsthat people will enjoy and learn from. There are reports to be runand to write. Maintaining the collection is a regular task.

Of course, as a librarian, it is vitalto be there to get people the assistance they need and providevaluable and reliable resources. Some days I get yelled at. Yourealize the differences and similarities in humanity. Some days Ihave to plunge the toilet and wear protective shoe booties.

The only things I “read” onwork time are work-related (and our social media feed). Being amanager requires times where you have to have tough conversations.The times when you get a honest thank you or a great big smile from akid/patron–those make up for the grind of other tasks.

In my opinion, working in a publiclibrary is awesome. BUT–you must want to work with the public or youwill be helping no one. It can be as frustrating as rewarding somedays. There are some weird stories and some inspiring ones as well. Iwouldn’t trade in this experience for anything!

Robin (Technology MarketingSpecialist and friendly neighborhood Tumblr editor, not a librarian): 

Confession:I’m not a “real” librarian at all. My master’s degree is in businessadministration and marketing, but I somehow convinced a library tohire me.

As a “Technology MarketingSpecialist” (basically, I’m the social media manager) most of mycontact with our patrons is through a computer screen - like whatwe’re doing right now! I spend most of my time creating posts for ourvarious social accounts, answering questions that come in throughthose accounts, making sure everyone is playing nice online, andgenerally making sure people know we exist.

I’m in the nifty position of getting towork with every single department in our library, because everysingle aspect of what we do needs promotion! There are a lot ofcommittees and I sit in on a lot of meetings because, well, marketingneeds to know what’s happening. There’s a ton of opportunity forcreativity and outside-the-box thinking, too, which I couldn’t livewithout.

My undergraduate degree was in creativeand professional writing, and I never thought I’d have a job whereI’d have to learn some graphic design, or video editing, or coding(oh yeah, I manage the website, too) but here I am - if you work in alibrary in any position you’ll learn a ridiculous amount of newthings without even trying.

Thanks for reading this far - that’s it for now. We hope it helped and feel free to ask us anything else!

[chwrpg]

Murray, I have asked you repeatedly not to call me "woman".

A NOTE FROM ADMIN R: Oh, oh, oh ! Y’all don’t know how happy I am to be accepting this application. Dylan is truly one of my CHW faves and to have her taken up by you, Cailin... that’s just an honor. I can not wait to see what you do with her, but I know one thing... this dash ain’t ready fro the looks Dylan is about to serve us. Thank you so much for applying and welcome back, love !

OOC NAME/ALIAS, PREFERRED PRONOUNS, AGE & TIMEZONE:

cailin, (she/her), 25, est

DESIRED CHARACTER:

queen mother, dylan davenport

HOW ACTIVE WILL YOU BE?

8-10

SECONDARY CHOICE:

taylor flick

DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER:

Dylan is shrouded in beauty, bold fashion choices, witty comebacks, and her daddy’s debit card. But the woman wearing the Amina Muaddi heels to 7/11 is much more interesting than her out of this world clothes. If Chanel’s head is in the clouds, Dylan’s feet are planted on the ground. She’s the fuel to the fire, the one who gets shit done. Things don’t move without her — and that includes the fashion scene in Rosewood. Dylan could’ve been a surgeon, she has the brains and attention to detail for it, but, you see, what Dylan says or doesn’t say goes. She predicted high waist jeans making a comeback before Vogue did, telling the girls one day during first period. So she’s a bit of a culture oracle. It’s why people care about what she’s thinking, who she’s endorsing, what designers she’s buying. They even want to know what she’s watching on a monday night. Her confidence and sincerity is inspiring. When she’s not taste making though, she’s the loyalest, most straightforward friend you can find in her tax bracket. Balancing the thin line between being no-nonsense and fun to be around. She does it well, though. In fact, she does most things well (driving not included.)‌ Her peers boast about her style and charisma, her professors brag about her work ethic and creativity, her boyfriend….well, her love life is a tumultuous roller coaster but every icon needs a fixer upper. Plus she gets diamonds every time he fumbles.

SAMPLE WRITING:

( Alexa, play Daddy )

The day Dylan was born she became a daddy’s girl. Stevie Wonder could see it. Dada was her first word much to her mother’s chagrin. He never raised his voice at her, never got impatient with her when she spilled her juice or threw her food. He got up in the middle of the night so his wife wouldn’t have to even though he had meetings at 7 in the morning. It didn’t stop there, though. Mr. Davenport didn’t put her down at parties. He carried her around on his hip as he mingled and held court, demanding on no one use baby talk for his brilliant baby girl. “She’s smart like her mom.” He would say to his captivated audience. For her third birthday he rented out an entire amusement park. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t yet tall enough to ride the rides, she had asked for it so he made it happen. He was a doer and a fixer, but he wasn’t perfect. Mr. Davenport had always been a better father and provider than a husband.

So, when she was five, her parents went through a nasty divorce. The papers their lawyers drew up cited irreconcilable differences but she’d come to realize, many years later, that was just how rich people skirted around the truth in hopes of keeping people out of their business. In truth, Mr. Davenport had spent the better part of his career sleeping with secretaries, temps, and clients. Basically anything that was of age and not nailed down. Mrs. Davenport had only grown tired of it after watching Halle Berry cry over Eric Benet  on Oprah. But like she’d taught  Dylan, Mrs. Davenport thought three steps ahead, and had arranged to have a cheating clause in their prenup. She saw the board before she’d even stepped foot on it. And, Sure, they’d been in love when they got married at twenty three, but a cheater never changed its spots, just his lies. In an instant, she got half of everything. Twenty percent of his future earnings, and 360 lipo for a girls trip to Maui to celebrate her emancipation.

All Dylan got out of the deal was two houses, two birthdays, two Christmases, two cars she still couldn’t drive when she turned sixteen. The court awarded them joint custody, ruling they both had enough sense to figure out the schedule on their own. But since that was the year her mom went back to school for her PhD, Dylan spent the majority of her time with her dad and a nanny. Those double holidays also served as a good distraction from the heartbreak she couldn’t explain. Though she was sharp as a whip and actually funny, not laugh because it’s a kid funny, but really funny, she still couldn’t wrap her little mind around why her parents drove to separate houses at the end of the night now. At all those parties, what stuck out the most was everyone saying what a handsome couple they were, how lucky they were to have another. They danced and laughed. They seemed so happy. But looks are deceiving and lucky for her, the loneliest year of her young life was also the year she met her best friend.

( Alexa, play Wannabe )

Dylan and Chanel became an instant package deal, and she thanked her father for not being able to keep his dick out of seedy holes because she wouldn’t have went to school in another district if her mom hadn’t won the house in the divorce, and she wouldn’t have sat down next to Chanel at show and tell, and they wouldn’t have bonded over their pretty dresses, or shared their organic apple juice. God worked in mysterious ways like that. She had a partner for life, and nothing came between them. Not even boys. And, despite having the power to date any eligible bachelor in her grade, she really liked one in particular.

The day she brought Paxton home her took one look at him and chuckled. Dylan figured it was because of the grill he hadn’t learned to talk without slurring with yet, but her mother had other ideas. “He reminds me of your father.” She said, long after he’d gone home, but not before Dylan spent fifteen minutes walking him to his car. The driveway was super long but her lipstick was nonexistent when she returned. That didn’t matter though, because Dylan knew what that meant. Her mom thought Paxton was charming, likable, handsome — but she also knew he was a liar and a dog. They argued for well over an hour, and she said some things she regretted but that’s what teenage girls did, they rebelled against becoming their mother all while doing so. She didn’t realize just how much he was like her father until she caught him DMing other girls on instagram and got a diamond necklace out of the deal. Still, it was clear that he could shoot a man in broad daylight and she would always be daddy’s little girl, nothing could change that.

“Daddy!” Dylan whined, clinging to her dad’s arm as they traipsed through another commercial property with their real estate agent. Today was the day she was finally going to buck up and switch locations from her dad’s pool house to an office space in scenic, downtown Rosewood. Being interviewed by magazines had been life changing, sitting front row of the hottest runways next to A-listers had its perks, doing a skincare routine video for vogue was dope, but expanding her business because the calls wouldn’t stop coming in to be styled be Dylan and her associates? That was something she’d done herself from the ground up. She’d started with styling her friends and now she was going to style the world.

( Alexa, play Successful )

Her heels were tall enough to greet God but she still only reached his shoulder. “I hope this one has vaulted ceilings.” Her tone was way past passive aggressive. She would’ve dialed it back had their agent not been set to make serious bank off of this, but had only been showing them office spaces with disgusting lighting and rude doormen. For all of their sakes, she hoped this one was better. “I need two sessions of hot yoga after the last mess you showed us, at least. My chakras are all out of wack now. Thanks a lot, A.” She was being dramatic but her dad didn’t stop her. He just smiled that infamous smile at the agent and excused himself to the back of the elevator to take a call. Dylan rolled her eyes when she caught their real estate agent, Angela, fawning. She was a slender woman with the proportion of a fashion model who only modeled in theory, never practice. With cropped hair and full lips. She’d been their families real estate agent for decades, found the house her mom had one in the divorce, but Dylan couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d slept with her dad while he was married to her mom, and for that she hated her.

The light dinged to signal they were at their floor, and the elevator doors slid open. When she bothered lifting them from a lengthy text she was typing to her beau, her eyes lit up like when her dad gifted her a patek for her eighteenth, or the G-Wagon that was still collecting dust in the garage for her sixteenth. Whatever the occasion was, she was aglow just like then. The floors were European oak, all the walls were white sans a charcoal accent wall that would be the space of her future desk, and yes, the ceilings were vaulted with windows to match. It was beyond.

“Daddy!” She squealed, running around the space and dreaming up renovation ideas. “This is the one. It’s, like, perfect.” Dylan ignored the real estate agent when she repeated the price tag. 1.2 million may have been a lot for some people, but some people weren’t his little girl and Angela should have known that by now. “Wait. I need to call Chanel!”�� Dylan could bet she’d be calling Chanel the day Play got down on one knee ( What?‌ A girl could dream ) before she even said yes. She was greeted with a selfie when she unlocked her phone, tapping her chanel platform sneaker clad foot against the wood while the facetime call connected, “What do you think about staining the floor another color?” She asked before absolutely beaming when Chanel’s face appeared on the screen.

“I found it! I found the perfect space.”‌ Without another word, she flipped the camera and did a little dance when Chanel’s excitement nearly exceeded hers. She knew a squeal of absolute glee when she heard one, “I know! Ok, so Just imagine a chaise here, we can install some shelves here. Do you think we can get a Prosecco fountain?…” She walked her through the office like Angela had done moments before, moving out of earshot so her dad could handle business, while they discussed all the possibilities. “Today an office with a view, tomorrow Dylan Davenport’s Fashion Academy,” she beamed.

All her daddy had to do was sign on the dotted line, and she knew he would. He was, after all, her doer. He wouldn’t dare break that illusion…right? The journey from the bathroom back to the main area of the office space was a short one, and she was all smiles until she rounded the corner only for her dream to turn into a nightmare. Her face cracked along with the screen of her phone as it hit the ground and shattered, “DADDY!” She screamed. The sight of her dad and Angela kissing over paperwork causing her to gag instantly.

“Honey, let me explain…..”

There was nothing to explain. Horrible step parents was Jasper’s lane, not hers.

( Alexa, play Ring Off )

ANYTHING ELSE?

1985.

[theodorasutton]

Digital Anthropology and Formula 1

This blogpost starts with my entry to the DHL competition, which offers my own way into Formula 1, through the drama and personalities of the sport. After my entry, I’ve written my ideas for researching Formula 1 from the perspective of digital anthropology.

My Formula 1 Moment

A few months ago I entered a Formula 1 competition to describe my best F1 moment. I wrote a really heartfelt description and went to submit it, only to find out it was about 5 times too long. I cut it down, submitted, but knew it wasn’t any good. I decided to share the original version and describe my way into the sport which I absolutely never expected myself to like - here it is:

March, 2018. My boyfriend had been watching the Formula 1. The qualifying had ended, and now there was a press conference.

I had never been interested in sport, certainly not one that was so clinical and confusing as Formula 1. For me, all the drivers blurred into one, some seemed to wear red, others wore white, and all of them seemed strangely keen to wear logo embellished headgear. Here they were, three of them, herded behind some microphones, giving stilted answers to press questions. Distracted and on my phone, I was impatient for the end of the program so that we could watch something interesting. "I can assure you we don't have a party mode,” one of them was saying. "I used the same mode from Q2 to the end of Q3. There was no extra mode, no extra button I engaged in." "What were you doing before, then?” The guy in red asked him, taking a sip from his drink and smiling mischievously. "I was waiting to put a good lap in…” The guy in white said, “to wipe the smile off your face,” he added under his breath, with an extra dash of sass. Was he angry, or was he joking? It was hard to tell. The two of them seemed to be rigid with tension, but keen to put on a good show for the cameras. The guy in white patted the guy in red’s arm, insisting that he was only joking. The awkwardness was palpable, and the exchange had my full attention. The other guy in red, sitting on the right, however, seemed to be daydreaming. Who was this guy in white, who my boyfriend told me was winning everything? What planet had he landed from, that gave him the ability to win races with robotic precision? The guy in red with the mischievous smile seemed to be the underdog, and was endearing. The daydreaming one was pure comedy. “Do they have brawls in the bars after a race?” I asked. “I don’t know,” my boyfriend said. “I’m not sure they can drink. They have to maintain almost no body fat.” I frowned. “I hope the guy in red punches the guy in white,” I said. I envisioned him chucking TVs out of swanky hotel windows. I live for the drama. This was the moment that got me into Formula 1. For the first time I saw inside the machines that zoomed predictably around faraway racetracks. I started to realise that Formula 1 wasn’t just lap times, numbers on a screen, and a choice between hard or soft tyres; it was fundamentally about the people. There were egos, eye watering pay checks, glamorous locations, and a whole lot of pressure. There were feuds, confrontations, and tears. It wasn’t until much later that I realised the physical toll of driving a Formula 1 car, and the gym regime that accustomed drivers’ bodies to immense forces while going round the track. I had thought drivers were just pressing buttons inside a machine, but these were athletes putting their lives on the line. Lewis wasn’t always so sassy. He usually spoke with the measured words of a religious guru, emphasising gratitude and hard work. Meditating, praying, exercising, and listening to the right song before a race were apparently what helped him achieve his super-human results. We jubilantly listened to a Christina Aguilera where he was rumoured to perform a hilarious and cringeworthy rap. “Imagine all the other drivers teasing him with it,” I said. It took me a while to realise that Sebastian was a four-time world champion. His voice was low and disinterested while he gave clamouring journalists a run through of his race. In Bahrain, in 2019, Lewis seemed to make him spin on the track through pure intimidation. After races, we watched eagerly for the private moment when the top three drivers would meet in the break room, wipe the sweat off their faces, shake hands, and grimace after two hours of ruthless competition. Was the loser completely crushed? What would they say to one another now that they were face to face? But it was Kimi who became the most entertaining of the three from the press conference that day. Often giving nonsensical answers to journalists (that started with the sound “bwoah”) or pretending to not hear them, he, too, was mischievous and clearly hated any kind of ceremony that stopped him either driving very fast, or going home. His elusiveness made me increasingly curious, and I searched for entertaining stories, finding ones about him napping on piles of tyres, drunkenly diving off a stage with no crowd to catch him, or screaming “gloves and steering wheel!” to a bewildered pit crew. Since that moment in March 2018 I’ve learned more about what really makes Formula 1 tick. I’ll be honest, I still switch off when people start talking about technical specs. But I love to watch the drivers, team principles, and pundits, when they find a way to say everything with just a look in their eyes, or a quiet dig at a competitor. I love it when there’s gossip and wild predictions, and memes to be made. I never thought I would love a sport like I love Formula 1 now, but it was the people - and Lewis’ sass - that got me where I am now.

Digital Anthropology and Formula 1

Through getting my head around F1, I’ve unsurprisingly thought about it in terms of my own research into digital anthropology - or how technology is part of our social world today. I truly know nothing about sport, so I may be wrong, but it seems that F1 is the most technologically mediated sport there is. Rather than athletes who test their physical capabilities, the drivers’ abilities are mediated through a machine, which could be working well, or could be crawling round the track. That machine has been built from the ground up, bolt by bolt, by engineers constantly trying to improve on the vision of the four-wheeled vehicle. They don’t simply drive the same car at each race, it’s continuously evolving and being tinkered with by the team and its engineers in-between weekends.

F1 car aerodynamics Rather than watching the race directly, the teams themselves watch a row of television screens. For starters, the circuit is too big to see in one go, and the noises are too loud to expose your ears to. To experience F1, even for those participating, necessitates cameras and microphones and screens. But the teams are not only watching footage of the race, but endless numbers dancing in front of their eyes, listing speed for each sector, tyre wear, temperatures, and predictions. What secret software do they rely upon to give them an advantage over others - what algorithms are at work, invisibly measuring and shaping the race? Do they have the problem of too much data - data saturation or InfoObesity - where they can learn no more, or they struggle to store, protect, or analyse the information flying at them?

Renault’s Pit Wall, Singapore GP

Pit wall display screen, from Reddit

While the celebrity drivers of F1 plummet themselves around a track several centimetres away from the tarmac - sometimes losing up to 3 litres of water and 4kg in one race - F1 is equally a mathematical sport. This interplay of bodies and technology, personality and data, is fascinating. If I were to design a research project on F1, it would ask how these aspects of the sport are reconciled. What relationship do the teams have with their technology? Are strategies based more on digital information - “The computer says we should do this, so we’ll do it"? Or do they put their faith in people like Hamilton, knowing that his judgment in split seconds would prevail?

Masculinity and aggression would be important themes. Comparing Formula 1 to my limited knowledge of football or rugby, where frustration can be taken out with shouting, running, tumbling, or even brief fights, I wonder if F1 is more of a restrained, poised sport, played behind a veil of respectability, where resentment comes out not physically, but in catty, underhand plays, spies, cutting people out, or perhaps insistently pronouncing your name wrong. My suggestion that Hamilton might throw some TVs out of a window was an attempt to understand where that necessary frustration ends up. A clip of Ricciardo screaming with his helmet still on, Verstappen shoving Ocon, or Schumacher marching furiously up the pit lane towards Coulthard, pulls back the curtain. Behind the scenes, what dastardly behaviour lurks? I also wonder how the teams would take failure differently if they were all women. After both Red Bull cars were taken out of the same race, I remember saying to my boyfriend that “I wouldn’t want to be in a room full of those angry Red Bull workers.” When Haas repeatedly have outbursts on their radios, they seem to be transgressing an invisible rule of Formula 1, that anger is a private matter. What other invisible rules are there that shape team behaviour, and create friction between them?

Haas team principle Gunther Steiner’s outburst at Sochi, for which he was fined $7500

At the same time, while teams seem keen to control their presentation, moments of intense emotion, and authentic reactions of the drivers and pit crew, give fans something to go on. How does Formula 1 balance its primary purpose - the need to be entertaining, with the teams' clear desire to maintain professionalism and secrecy? In 2017, F1 released YouTube videos of the post race driver briefings, which featured drivers sat in rows like bored schoolboys. The videos are extremely entertaining, mostly due to the comedic camerawork and Grosjean attempting to get other drivers into trouble - but the uploads have since stopped, possibly because it was too much of an invasion into the meetings. Netflix’s 2019 series “Formula 1: Drive to Survive” gave us a behind the scenes look, and helped us meet the personalities in F1 and empathise with their stories and struggles. In the recent On The Marbles podcast, Lee McKenzie explains that one reason why AutoSport is going out of print is the on-brand messages from the teams are too bland and repetitive for the price of the magazine. My own entry to the DHL competition displays my feeling that the sport needs drama to continue. This tension plays out everywhere. As the stewards continue to penalise small errors in driving, they curtail more of the scrappy, fight-y racing that the drivers seem to enjoy as much as the spectators, resulting in races that are “boring” and “processional.” Rather than relying on printed interviews, fans may be turning to social media to connect more closely with the characters in the sport. Through Instagram, Reddit, and YouTube, fans create memes based on the funniest moments on and off track, some of which endure for months.

Left: A fan’s take on Haas’ “I think Ericsson hit us”. Right: The radio message to Kimi Raikkonen when his drink was not connected The McLaren driver Lando Norris, only 19 years old, posts stories on his Instagram most days, and welcomes the playful Internet world of memes and ridiculousness in a way that breaks with the usual “robotic monotony” of drivers. It turns out that in his spare time, when he’s not racing in real life, he enjoys racing Verstappen on a video game. In this way, through following them on Instagram, fans can see relationships between the drivers - in a recent example, Ricciardo and Leclerc teased each other on their own respective Instagram accounts during a shared flight. Technology is playing a role, then, not only in the broadcasting of sport, but in the way that fans can relate to F1 and its personalities, by viewing mundane and everyday moments that span much further than the race weekend. 

Left: Ricciardo’s selfie with sleeping teammate Verstappen Middle: Norris’ Instagram, teasing his teammate Sainz Right: Leclerc jokes about a misspelling of his name

Research Outline

Taking an academic view of Formula 1 Absolutely Totally Seriously, I would propose viewing it through the idea of Rationality. Rationality has come up in my work on digital detoxing, where in a “Disenchanted” modern world, we perceive that technological progress explains the world down to neat facts and figures. We can bend the world to our own ends, since everything becomes calculable. To act rationally would be to do things for the intended goal, without the need for guesswork or fate. 

Interpreting Formula 1 in these terms, the sport splits into its Rational and Irrational aspects. On the one hand, teams design machines using cutting edge technology, and sensors and numbers tell them how to optimise the car to be more likely to win. On the other hand, the teams are made of people, who are emotional, or rather irrational - who might in fact be the key ingredient for winning (like the magical je ne sais quoi of Lewis Hamilton or Ayrton Senna), or who might require motivating, might cause problems, or make mistakes. 

I would hypothesise that the teams themselves prefer a rational view of F1. They want everything to be predictable, structured, cool, calm and collected. However, in order to survive, in order to entertain, the sport requires Irrationality - drama, friction, emotion, personality. Also under this heading would be fate, luck, the driver’s own headspace and personal life. A research project of Formula 1 would look at how the teams manage tension between these two aspects - and I would aim to answer questions through an ethnography of team culture.

My research questions would be something like this. 

How do the teams incorporate digital technology into their work, and do Formula 1 teams rely more on technology, or on human skill? 

What norms are there around emotion in Formula 1, and how is emotion managed by the teams?

How do Formula 1 teams balance the need to be entertaining with the need to win, and how is social media changing their relationship to this?

I better get back to my thesis.

[ashphoenix06]

Sweet Dreams Part 2

Schneep had been standing outside of room 209 for ten minutes now, unable to find the courage to face whoever came by this time. He has swiftly wiped away his tears before exiting the elevator but that didn’t stop his eyes from feeling the drain that crying causes pile onto his fatigue. Whoever was in there, he knew, would be able to see that something was wrong with him. His friends were observant that way. And he wasn’t too fond of their perception. They would insist that he take it easy or take some time off, which he absolutely refused to do. After all, a doctor’s work was never done.

He gripped the handle with a trembling hand but instead of opening the door, he rested his forehead against the cold door. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought back the tears that threatened to spill out again. This was stupid, he thought. Sure, he has carried the guilt of that night for two years now but he had never broken down over it. He was the strong one in the group, the rock for the others to lean on. Schneep never had the need to cry with the others coming to him for guidance. That didn’t mean that he was a completely heartless drone, far from it. He grieved in his own way, in silence and alone. That’s how he worked… that was Henrick Schneeplestein… so why was is walls coming down now?

Gulping a few jagged breaths to calm his nerves, he straightened up and pushed on the handle. He had to do it now or otherwise he wouldn’t have the nerve to go in. This feeling made Schneep confused and angry with himself. What was going on today?

Stepping into the room, he took in the scene in front of him. The bland white walls with generic pictures framed on them. The bathroom off to the side that was just completely pointless to have. The TV that hung on the wall but was never turned on. There was no life in this room; it was just an empty space… except for the patient who had occupied it for the last two years.

Schneep first looked at the heart monitor next to the single hospital bed. The green line on the screen showed a slow, normal pulse. Same as always, Schneep though. It’s monotonous beeps were usually the only sound to emanate in the normally quiet room. The IV bag right next to it was half full, it’s contents dripping into the tube in an consistent rhythm. Schneep made a mental note to alert a nurse that the bag would need changing soon.

Finally having nothing else to look at, Schneep turned his eyes to the bed and his heart dropped to his stomach; which was the normal reaction whenever he first looked at his sleeping friend after a while. There, on the hospital bed, laid his dear friend Jack. For the last two years, after that terrible Halloween night, Jack had been the sole occupant of room 209. Schneep was just thankful at times that he was able to save Jack in time before he died from blood loss and lack of oxygen. At other times, as much as it pained him to think it, Schneep wished that Jack had died that night. If he hadn’t of made it, then at least the rest of them wouldn’t of had to endure this torturous hell for the last two years. And Jack wouldn’t of had to been stuck in this room, his life dependent on the machines that were whirling next to him.

Above all, Schneep regretted not listening to Jack weeks before that glitchy demon attacked. Jack had come to him personally, complaining of random blackouts when he recorded his videos and a constant feeling that someone was watching him, just waiting for the right moment. Schneep had written it off as jitters due to the horror games he was playing and also to the coming holiday. He told Jack to take it easy and maybe lay off the horror games for a while. And then on Halloween, he got a panicked text from Jackie, stressing that something was wrong and he need to get over to Jack’s place right away. Schneep had hurried as fast as he could to Jack’s house and the scene he walked in on still haunted him to this day.

Shaking the memory from his thoughts, he looked at Jack one more time. His friends face looked so peaceful in his slumber, his eyes fluttering every now and then under his eyelids. That was the reason Schneep hadn’t pulled the plug on his friend months after that horrible night. A brain scan had proven that Jack hadn’t suffer any brain damage or wasn’t brain dead; he was still there. He just refused to wake up… or couldn’t. That thought alone made Schneep shiver. What in the fuck did Anti do to Jack? It had to of been something very traumatic to make his dear friend hide deep inside his own mind.

There was a ping from the other side of the room that pulled Schneep from his thoughts. He turned to the source of the noise and felt his heart drop even farther. Sitting cross legged in the chair next to Jack was Chase, tapping away at his phone. He hadn’t even noticed Schneep entering the room, but the good doctor expected as much after Chase decided to take on the role of Jack in order to keep the channel safe from Anti. He had kinda hoped that it was Jackie that had come this time. He hadn’t seen his bouncy, optimistic friend in the last three days and Schneep found himself fretting over the boy hero.

Not that he wasn’t happy to see Chase. Chase was another one of his friends that he had managed to save from death’s black claws but his odds to survive when Schneep had removed the bullet from his right temple were slim if not near impossible. That had crushed Schneep, who considered Chase like a brother. But somehow, against all the odds, Chase had managed to not only survive from his attempt at suicide but also to not suffer from any permanent brain damage. Schneep remembered the day Chase woke up fondly. Jackie had practically sprung from his chair and nearly suffocated the groggy Chase in a bear hug. Schneep just watched in the background with a small smile as the rest of the group surrounded him. Everything seemed like it was going to be okay after that… but then Anti appeared and made Jack slit his own throat….

Chase stopped tapping on his phone and looked around the room, his eyes coming to a complete stop when they spotted Schneep. Chase gave him a bittersweet smirk and Schneep felt a chill run down his spine. His dear friend had completely transformed into a different version of himself after he stepped in Jack’s shoes. The once heart sick, depressed man now showed more confidence in himself as well as a more positive outlook on the world. This change should of made Schneep swell with pride, which he normally did… but he couldn’t help but feel a bit fearful. He didn’t want to lose the real Chase, which he knew was a silly thing to worry over… but still…

“It’s good to see you again, Henrick,” Chase said, uncrossing his legs and leaning forward in the chair. Schneep quickly dashed the dark thoughts out of his head and smiled back.

“It’s good to see you too, my friend. How is the channel holding up? Any plans for the new year?”

Chase shrugged as he leaned back into the chair. He could never stay still, Schneep thought to himself. He and Jackie were similar in that way except Jackie was more bouncy.

“Oh, you know, same old thing just in a new year. I think I’m going to work more on the channel this time around instead of traveling around like on the tour… but I’m still going to go back to LA for a while….”

Schneep nodded as Chase went on about his ideas for the channel. It warmed his heart to see his friend so passionate about something. He hadn’t had this drive in a long while.

He noticed the room starting to go in and out around him. What the hell, he thought to himself. Chase had stopped talking and was giving him a quizzical look. The small round scar on his right temple was revealed from the light seeping through the blinds, the only reminder left from when he shot himself.

    Schneep tried to hide his sudden infliction by opening the red chart and practically cowering behind it. He cleared his throat as sweat began to form on his brow. Keep it together, he ordered himself. You’re stronger than this.

    Something began scratching in the back of his mind but he ignored it as he read the charts from Jack’s file.

    “So… so nothing has changed since the last time, I’m afraid… There is still brain activity going on but he just won’t w….”

    “Henrick? Are you okay? You look like shit…”

    Schneep dared a glance from over the file to see his friend leaning forward in the chair again, looking concerned. His whole body began to shake and he felt his balance waver a bit. His head felt hot as the scratching in his head intensified. What… the… hell….

    Chase was on his feet and leaning over the bed. “Henrick, when is the last time you’ve actually rested? You look like you’re about to keel over…”

    “I’m fine, my friend,” Schneep lied, “I don’t have time to rest… you know how it is… a doctors work is nev….”

    “Bullshit,” Chase said, starting to walk towards him. Schneep felt himself taking a step back, grabbing the bed in order to keep himself up. He was fine, dammit… he was…

    “...fine… I’m fine, Chase. Probably a twenty four hour thing but nothing I can’t handle.”

    “Come on, Henrick. You know you can’t lie to me… you need to take a break and rest,” Chase pointed to Jack’s still form. “You’re not going to help anyone, Jack specifically, if you managed to run yourself ragged. I came here to check on you as well as Jack. You know, Jackie’s been blowing up my phone worried about you.”

    “I saw Jackie three days ago, my friend, and he’s… he’s...” Schneep stammered. There was a quick flash of Jackie looking at him, tears streaming down his face. Schneep lost his grip on the bed and fell to one knee, his head pounding from the consistent scratching. He couldn’t get Jackie’s broken look our of him mind. He grabbed the sides of his head, his breathing coming out rapidly. He could barely hear someone calling his name, but it wasn’t anyone in the room. A memory? Jackie? Marvin?

    “Henrick!”

    Chase ran over to the good doctor and bent over to help him up. “Come on, man! Something’s definitely wrong! Let me get you into the chair and I’ll call for a nurse. Dammit, doc! You should start listening to us when we tell you….”

    Doc? Did Chase just call him… doc?

    He felt his friends hand grab his shoulder and proceed to try to lift him up. But Schneep was temporarily frozen. The minute Chase touched him, a flash of mismatched memories flooded his mind.

    Marvin staring at him with pure hatred… Jackie yelling out to him, face all covered in blood…. Two eyes looking up at him with fear and horror, pleading at him to… to…

    Wake up, Henrick!!!!

    A flash of glitching…..

    Those eyes fading to dull emptiness…..

    “GET OFF ME!”

    Schneep thrusted with all his might, pushing Chase away from him. Chase was caught off guard, losing his bearings and falling flat onto the floor. As he lifted himself from the floor, Schneep crawled over to the opposite wall, panting and sweating from the strain it was putting on him. He stared at Chase as he managed to get on his knees and turn to him, trembling from the flood of memories crashing down on him.

    Chase look at him with a mixture of shock and sadness.

    “Henrick… what the fuck is wro…”

    “Stay away from me,” Schneep spatted, raising a shaking finger, “You… you just stay away!”

    “Come on, Henrick… you’re not making any sense,” Chase tried to lean forward, his hand outstretched, “you’re obviously sick from overworking… let me help you…”

    “NO,” Schneep screeched, kicking at Chase in order to keep him as far away as possible. Chase retreated back in order to avoid being kicked, hurt spreading over his features.

    “Henrick…”

    “What… What did you make me do?”

    “What the fuck are you talking about?”

    Schneep used the wall to help himself get to his feet, though the task took a lot of energy to do. With half his body pressed against the cold surface, he looked Chase dead in the eyes.

    “I remember…. I remember… Jackie… Oh, god! What did you make me do to him!”

    Chase just stared in disbelief as Schneep pointed at him once again.

    “What did you make me do? WHAT DID YOU MAKE ME DO?”

Here is part 2 of the writing prompt requested by @glitchbicth. It may have taken me all day and I may not have gotten the chance to proofread it through, but I was excited about writing this part! Part 3 will be out tomorrow. Enjoy!

[jadekitty777]

Hidden in Plain Sight

Who is ready for a week of fanfiction about my two favorite men?!

Not me 8D!  Because despite having six months to prepare two of the days are still not finished (so be forewarned Day 2 and 4 may not be up on time). But, all the same, I’m determined and excited to finish off an entire week for once! So, let’s jump right in!

Day 1 – Long Distance @taiqrowweek

Summary: When Tai receives a package in the mail from his old academy, he finds there’s an unexpected gift inside from someone else entirely. [Pre-Volume 2]

Rating: K

Ao3 Link: Hidden in Plain Sight

~

The door creaked on its hinges and immediately the sound of excited yips and a jangle of tags greeted Tai in the form of thirty pounds of tiny dog. He juggled the package he carried under one arm to lean down, Zwei’s ears flopping about as he gave him a pet. “Hey there pupster. Sorry I’m late. Did you already eat?” When his answer was only a cold nose nuzzling into his palm rather than a mad dash for the kitchen, he took that as a yes.

Tai was never going to figure out how he learned how to use the can opener.

He kicked the door closed with his heel, dropping his mail on the table as he passed. Zwei started sniffing intently at the box. “Sorry bud, it’s not from the girls.” There was a growly huff of disappointment.

Tai chuckled, stretching his arms over his head as he headed for the kitchen to scrounge around for a dinner of his own. The only sound for the next few minutes was of him, clattering around in the kitchen and the breeze in the trees outside, the silence of the rest of the home leaving a solemn weight to the air. Two months, and he still wasn’t quite used to no longer hearing the various noises of the girls running down the stairs or yelling at each other in the living room as they played the newest fighter game or the faint noise of their laughter drifting from the floor above.

He was immensely proud of them both: of his eldest, who had gotten an acceptance letter well before entrance exams, and of his youngest, who had been allowed to skip two years ahead. Though, he had always known ever since he watched Yang throw down Qrow when she was only seven and Ruby build her first model of Crescent Rose at only ten, that both his girls had immeasurable talent and the drive to pursue their dreams. As a father, he could only encourage them to embrace that potential and ambition, aware that one day he was going to see them grow into the extraordinary huntresses they always wanted to be.

Still, it didn’t mean that watching them get on that airship to Beacon wasn’t one of the hardest days of his life.

It was even harder to say those goodbyes alone and return into the near empty home, more still and lonely then it had ever been.

At least, Tai thought as he sat on the couch with his plate of pasta and reached for the remote, I don’t have to fight for the TV anymore.

He turned it on, the television already on his favorite channel, and set the remote aside. He balanced his plate in one hand, reaching down to curl his other arm around his dog, hefting him up beside him. They got comfortable, Zwei nestling up against his side while Tai kicked off his shoes and rested his feet on the table. “Oh gods, I remember this one,” He said as the sitcom’s laugh track played after one of Starla’s typical neurotic-induced jokes. “This is the one where Annie and Davy get the male nanny and everyone treats him like he’s gay.”

The corgi gave a slight growl.

“I know, right?” He laughed, twisting his chopsticks around some noodles.

They watched the rest of the episode, infuriating as it was, and the next that played for the power hour, plus one of All Our Life. By the time the intro to Collide started playing, the sky outside had turned dark and Tai was starting to feel the drag of exhaustion trying to pull his eyelids down and knew it was time to call it a night. He shut off the TV, getting to his feet. Zwei, who had rolled onto his back to take a nap, awoke and wiggled his paws a bit. Tai rubbed his belly before helping him on the ground floor so he could run out the doggy door. He wandered back into the kitchen to clean up the dishes and by the time he was done, Zwei was back inside, settling onto his doggy bed. It seemed he was going to stay down here tonight.

“Night buddy.” He said, giving his pet a few more affectionate pats, before picking up the package and heading upstairs.

He set the box on his bed and headed into the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth. He reemerged to slip into some comfortable sleep shorts, tousling his hair one more time with the towel before tossing it onto the floor. He sat down on his bed, picking up the package and setting it in his lap. There was no return address, but he knew who it was from. He pulled off the tape, only finding two items inside. The first was a palm-sized black plastic case with no distinguishable marks on it. The other was a note that simply read:

I have a feeling you may not be in Vale anymore

Tai rolled his eyes. He had to wonder where his old headmaster’s sense of humor came from. “Very funny, Oz.” He set the scripted letter aside, before pulling out the case next, dropping the cardboard box onto the floor. Popping the top open, he eyed the chip that rested atop cotton padding. There was a picture of a gear etched on its tiny surface. The last time he had seen it had been fourteen years ago. He carefully fished it out, holding it delicately between his fingers. For what it held on it, it was extremely unimpressive looking.

He reached for his nightstand, pulling over his Scroll DEX.

And hesitated.

Did he really want to do this again?

Tai pondered the question, staring at his reflection in the transparent screen. What stared back was a man who was nearly two decades older, age lines starting to show and a paleness to his hair that had once been so vibrant. While he had kept in shape over all these years and had fought the occasional Grimm around the perimeter or when enlisted by Patch’s call-to-duty system to deal with bigger threats, he knew it wouldn’t compare to what he was going to face if he joined Ozpin’s inner circle once more.

If you didn’t want to, then why did you call at all? The thought whispered at the back of his mind, the answer already there.

Somewhere within himself, there was still that young orphan boy in him that grew up wanting to protect society from hurting like he once did. To shelter those wishes for peace and safety, knowing all too well the pain it caused when they went unanswered. So, he’d return to this underground war waging out of sight from the rest of society’s eyes so that next generation didn’t have to.

He’d return, because that’s what a Huntsman does.

The screen lit up as Tai slipped the chip into the device. It read ‘Initializing’, beginning a percentage counter that haltingly climbed in number. Once it finished, it would have all his old data on it as well as any new intel, any of his current objectives and secure, untraceable connections with the rest of the association. Reading over everything could wait until morning. He hooked the phone to the charger and set it on the nightstand, before shutting off the lamp and climbing into bed.

He was just drifting into sleep when a sudden jingle jerked him back. He stared in confusion at the blue-tinted light that brightened the ceiling, before rolling onto his side and pulling his Scroll over to read the banner on the lock screen:

216 messages from A Dumb Bird

“What?” He whispered into the night air, sitting up slightly. He pressed in his thumbprint and swiped over the screen, opening up into the messaging app which started him at the most recent entry. It was dated today, two hours ago. It was a short message, only two words:

‘Miss you’

The words themselves made a pleasant buzz hum underneath his skin. The one before it was dated three weeks ago, well after midnight. It was a picture of five puppies in a box.

‘Someone’s selling these droolers for five lien. Think yours needs a friend?’

Tai shook his head, scrolling slowly at first but faster as the dates and messages swam by. A few more weeks. Four months. Ten months. A year. Two years.

He finally got to the first message of the 216 he had been sent, all the way back seven years ago when Qrow had decided the girls were old enough and they were both steady enough for him to quit teaching and work missions for Ozpin again. Overwhelmed by emotion, Tai had to set the Scroll aside, burying his head in his pillow.

“Listen up!” Summer’s ever-sweet lilt was as clear as ever, even in his memory. “I want all of us to make a promise that on these missions, when we get to places that have reception, all of us will send messages to one another to let us know we’re okay. I don’t care if it’s a text, a video or a picture, just send something.”

Qrow knew Tai couldn’t get these messages to this phone without the chip. Hell, he even sent messages or called him on their normal Scroll all the time. And yet, all these years and he still…

He took a breath, before pulling the Scroll over again and started to read each and every one. Some barely said much except that he’d made it to town or when he’d be heading back. There were a few pictures; a collection of mini-whiskey shots found in a hotel room or a big dragon statue with a tiny plastic one the man had balanced on its nose just to tease him about ‘size comparison’. There was even a video in which Qrow, slightly tipsy speech filtering through with mirth, pointed the camera at a normal crow and started to talk about how he “found himself after all these years”. A lot of it didn’t make sense, but Tai still chuckled and even watched it a second time.

It wasn’t until he got to the ones that he had received from three years ago and onwards that he noticed a subtle but still apparent shift to the messages – not to mention the quantity. Suddenly it wasn’t just a few shorts words, but full sentences about how Qrow was doing or what he was looking forward to when he got home. Snippets of how much he loved him or how he missed waking up beside him that Tai had to wonder if the other had sent here because he wasn’t feeling secure enough to send them to him for real. Over a dozen pictures now of various things, like a candy shop he thought the girls might like or a lightning bolt during a storm that lit up the whole sky (with a caption ‘you electrify me’ that had Tai nearly rolling with giddy laughter).

The one that hit the hardest was a video, the only other one in all the messages, that had been shot two years ago. The other huntsman must have been at an inn, because he was leaning against a headboard.

“So, hey.” Qrow started, running a hand along his hair. He often did it to look suave, but this time it only made him seem nervous. “I tried to make it somewhere in time but got held up on the field. You know how it is. So, guess I’m fashionably late.” He winked, but the act was quick to drop and he looked away. “I’m sorry. I wanted to at least call on the right day. I wanted to show you that… I’m here. That even if I’m across the world, I’m always here for you.” He chuckled, offering the camera a half-smile. “Guess I ain’t proving that very well if I’m missing our first anniversary, huh? I’ll try better next time.”

Tai remembered. He’d be lying to say he hadn’t been a little down about it when the day itself passed, but he never held it against Qrow – nor for the next two he also missed. He’d learned, both from being in the profession and exclusively dating those in the same job field, that sometimes the best one could do is just cherish what time you did get together. It was impossible to be a fulltime huntsman and still be able to make every special occasion; and while Tai knew he had a lot of faults, being selfish enough to think he was more important than the people his partner was risking his life to protect was not one of them.

So, when Qrow finally was able to call, it hadn’t mattered to him that it was a few weeks late because the gift of getting to hear his voice was one worth waiting for.

“I just,” The recording continued, the man fully turning back to the camera, “I wanted you to know that, this? You and me? It’s… been amazing. You’re, I mean,” He shook his head, laughing as he ran a hand over his blushing face; he looked unbelievably endearing. “Tai, man, why is this so hard? I’ve known you for years. Yet every time I try to just tell you how much you mean to me, I can’t seem to say anything decent. I’m going to call you soon and what the hell am I gonna say?”

Now that Tai would never forget – because it had been the first time Qrow said “I love you” aloud to him; and it had taken his breath away.

Now he found himself in the same position, as the man he found himself utterly captivated by, smile towards him and say, “I’m just, so happy, you know? Happier than I thought was actually possible. I never thought us being together would make that much of a difference but, it has. It really has.” He rubbed the back of his neck, bashfully adding, “Hopefully I can find a way to tell you that tomorrow.”

The video ended there.

Overwhelmed, Tai scrolled through the rest of the messages until he caught up, staring at the newest one that was now three hours old. He ran his thumb over the two simple words, his heart feeling ready to burst, and hurriedly typed a reply.

‘I love you so much.’

After a minute of no response, he started to go back up to reread again. He was just in the middle of admiring a shot of an old-fashioned air balloon hovering in the sky when his phone pinged and brought him back to the bottom.

‘Tai?’

‘Yeah. It’s me.’ He replied.

There was another lull, but not as long as the last before he replied, ‘Welcome back, you damn dragon.’ Tai smiled, knowing that’s what Qrow had him listed as in his Scroll. There was another ping.

‘I’ll give you five lien if you delete every message prior to these.’

‘No deal unless you’re going to use it to get me a puppy.’

‘Between you and Zwei, I can’t handle any more dogs in the house.’

“Oh my god Qrow!” Tai laughed aloud while writing ‘You charming jerk’ in return.

‘A charming jerk you love.’

The smile he wore was uncontainable. ‘Yeah, I do.’

‘This charming jerk loves you too.’

“Yeah.” Tai whispered, deliriously happy as he held his phone close, never wanting to let it go – or, more precisely, the person on the other end. “I know.”

~ A/N: For those wondering, the show Tai is watching is a reference to Friends and an actual episode that aired in later seasons.

The DEX in Scroll DEX stands for codex, which were oftentimes books filled with parchment paper (which is the same type of paper scrolls are generally made of). It can also stand for Deluxe.

Lastly, this story is mostly a headcanon, but it’s based off the idea the missions Tai starts taking during the duration of Volume 2 – that causes him to send Zwei to the girls – and again at the beginning of volume 3 are indeed for Ozpin rather than just typical Huntsman missions.