#you have to charge me to look at my transcript too?

[brisingr-sword]

what’s the point of an unofficial transcript if i can’t see it unless i pay to send it to myself anyways?

[sssilverstoned]

couples quiz ꩜ ln4

type: transcription from a youtube video

The GQ couples quiz goes precisely how you both, and your PR teams, expect it to

lily said: i just love world building (even if im not the best at it) so i can't ever leave a concept or pairing alone, so it goes!

part 1 part 2 part 3 2.5ish interlude

Y/N: Why do I feel like I left the oven on in the kitchen?

Lando: Well, because you did. I turned it off on our way out, don't worry about it.

y/n turns to the camera with a bright smile, and lando smiles at the sight of her own.

Y/N: My hero, everyone!

Y/N: And um, I guess we're getting started now? So hi, I'm Y/N L/N, a model and creative director currently based out of Europe.

Lando: And I'm Lando Norris, a driver for McLaren Racing's Formula 1 Team, and this is the GQ couples quiz. And if I may add, I absolutely think I'm going to win.

Y/N: I'm not even dignifying that with banter.

lando turns to the camera, an eyebrow raised.

Lando: Fun fact: Y/N's quite genuinely the most competitive person I've met in my entire life.

y/n's jaw drops with a scoff.

Y/N: No shot! You race for a living, for crying out loud.

Lando: Trust me, Love, you take the cake.

y/n rolls her eyes with no charge, a smile still on both of their faces and small looks exchanged between the two of them,

Y/N: Alright, you first. What's my favorite color?

Lando: (your favorite color), easy. it's the color of your phone case right now too.

Y/N: Yup. What's my favorite place I've traveled?

Lando: You loved Venice, no?

y/n winces, weighing her hands back and forth.

Y/N: I did, but that's not my favorite. In my whole life, I'd say,

Both: Jamaica!

they laugh at their unison.

Lando: And I knew that, I knew that! Because of your grandparents.

y/n nods fondly, giggling at how lando beats himself up about getting one wrong.

Y/N: Alright, what am I most scared of?

Lando: You're petrified of spiders.

y/n gags, and shudders.

Y/N: Don't even get me started.

lando turns to the camera with a faux look of exhaustion.

Lando: This girl refused to go into our bedroom for 3 hours once when I was out because there was a spider on the vanity.

Y/N: Whatever. Where did I go to school?

Lando: Switzerland and New York, very posh.

Y/N: You're calling me posh?

Lando: Can't the pot and the kettle both be black?

a producer bursts out in laughter in the background, making the couple do the same. there's a fondness in both their eyes as they double over in laughter.

Y/N: Okay, okay, almost done. What food do I love and hate?

Lando: You hate mushrooms, and for some reason, you really don't like salmon. As for what you do like, you get stir-fry and noodles a lot, but only from specific places. And you love tomato soup, that's the number one.

Y/N: Right again, nice baby! You make a good one now, by the way.

he winks at her.

Y/N: Who is my celebrity crush?

lando scoffs.

Lando: Dylan O'Brien.

Y/N: Forever and ever. My birthday?

Lando: March 10th, a spicy pisces, as you say.

Y/N: Hey, Olivia Rodrigo herself called me that.

Lando: And what about Scorpios?

Y/N: Nope, not your turn yet, I've got one last question.

lando takes a dramatic breath.

Lando: Alright, hit me with it.

Y/N: Where did we go on our first date?

a big smile grows on lando's face.

Lando: We went to a music show one of our friends recommended, and we both thought it was awful but didn't say anything because we didn't want to leave and have the date be over, so we listened to the most shit jazz music for an hour and a half just to be around each other.

Y/N: Best result from the worst music I've ever heard.

Lando: Ditto. Now, hand me the cards, yeah? I'm about to stump you so good.

the camera transitions to y/n now in the hotseat answering questions, lando teasingly taking his job very seriously with the question cards.

Lando: Alright. Where am I from?

Y/N: Bristol, thought you said you'd stump me?

Lando: This is literally question 1?

lando turns to the producers.

Lando: You see what I mean? Ferocious.

Lando: Moving on, what is our favorite show to watch together?

Y/N: We're rewatching Prison Break, so I'd say that?

Lando: I'll give you that one. Ugh, what was I wearing when we first met? Fucks sake, can we skip this one?

y/n sputters over him.

Y/N: Absolutely not, we're not skipping over this!

Lando: Oh come on, Love-

Y/N: I swear to you, the very first time I met Lando, he came to my 18th birthday party in a full on basketball kit!

Lando: I was told it was "Space Jam" themed!

Y/N: As in dress like you're in space, you fool! Not the Michael Jordan and Bugs Bunny movie!

Lando: Needless to say, I was mortified. Seems like she still thought I was cute though, no?

another wink is sent to the camera.

Lando: What's your biggest pet peeve about me?

Y/N: You spoil everything. I can't ever watch a show or a movie without you walking in and going, "Oh, this is the episode before he dies." Like? Who does that?

Lando: Yeah, ah, guilty. Working on it. Eh, not really. What's my nickname for you?

Y/N: Cradle robber.

another producer reacts to this. a sputtering shock of laugh. "you call her WHAT?"

Y/N: We're the same age, mind you.

Lando: Wrong, you've been alive 8 months longer than me on this planet! 3/4 of a year, mind you. But I've got real nicknames for you.

Y/N: Yeah, you do. You call me Love, more than you say my name, so it always feels odd when you do say it.

lando doesn't respond with his voice, but the fond look in his eyes and nod at her answer.

Lando: What irritates me the most?

Y/N: About me? Or, like, in life?

Lando: Life, nothing irritates me about you.

Y/N: Oh, please. But, in life, you're pretty irritable when it comes to selfish people. You've always been like that, though, very compassionate and not a fan of people who aren't.

Lando: Very true, never thought of it like that, I guess. Just don't be an asshole, you know?

Y/N: See? Irritated.

Lando: Anyway. We're on our last question, so I guess you've won because it's not a point question.

Y/N: I won't rub this one in your face, just because you've been a great interviewer.

he gives her a gracious nod, and y/n rolls her eyes.

Lando: You'll never ever know how grateful I am. Final Question, what's something that you weren't expecting about me that you love about me?

Y/N: Oh goodness, are you wanting me to cry? Well, I think something that was initially a hard adjustment was the intensity of your racing schedule, and doing long distance sometimes. We don't really see each other sometimes, but when we do, you always sleep in. And at first it was really annoying to me, because we only have like, 3 days together, wake up! Let's do something! But once you told me that you let yourself sleep in on those days because it's a time to just, be, and we can do it together. So I guess my answer is, I wasn't expecting to love how much you love little moments. You've taught me to be grateful for things we take for granted, and I don't know, I think it's helped me through a lot.

lando stays still for a bit, an adoring look on his face as his eyes swell with what we think were happy tears. we're hoping so, at least.

Lando: I can't wait to marry you one day.

[impala-dreamer]

Who We're Pretending To Be

A Story from the YOU Universe

~Joe finds himself getting too close to one of his grad students and he fights the urge to fall completely.~

Joe Goldberg (Jonathan Moore) x F!Reader

5,019 Words

Warnings: NSFW.

A/N: If you've not seen the Netflix show YOU, this may not be your thing. Still a great story, but it helps to know the show. Also, if you've not seen the show, I suggest you get right on that because it is AMAZING.

Set between Seasons 3 & 4. Slight spoilers for s4, but not really. 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The classroom seems cold today, like there’s something missing. It’s distracting. I can’t quite put my finger on what’s off, but there’s a charge in the air like something’s about to happen; as if lightning could strike at any second.

I don’t mean proverbial lightning, as none of my students seem to have grasped any of the contextual undertones of the book we’re discussing, but actual, live lightning. If I opened the windows behind my desk just a crack, a bolt would sneak through and bury itself in the base of my skull. Maybe that’s what I need- a jolt of electricity, something to break me out of this fog that crept up around me and climbs forever higher threatening to suffocate me.

I think I’d take the lightning to the skull over suffocation, but we don’t always get what we want.

I’m perched on the edge of the desk when the door opens and Y/N comes rushing in.

Suddenly, all of my attention is on her.

She’s never late. Never rushing, always at least ten minutes early for every appointment, every class. She seems- off today, as well. Perhaps she can feel the imminent lightning strike as well. Wouldn’t that be funny? I find a kindred amongst these idiot grad students who can’t even seem to end this horrid debate.

“I am so sorry, Professor Moore.”

Y/N’s voice cracks a bit, which in itself isn’t very unusual. She’s one of the quieter students I’ve encountered, and the only American in my current circle of acquaintances. Her accent is faint, as if she’s attempting to hide it from her schoolmates. She’s been here a while, I can infer; sprinkling in local slang and adding letters to words where back home there would be none. She’s trying hard to fit in, but why? Why not be herself?

“I got held up by-”

I hold up my hand and smile softly. “It’s fine, Y/N. Please take a seat and try to catch up.”

For fuck’s sake, she’s only twenty minutes late, but it looks like every second has weighed her down like lead.

The others pick up their debate and I sit back a bit, cross my arms, pretend to listen. This teaching thing isn’t as hard as everyone makes it out to be. Occasionally, I toss out an idea and let them run with it. Sometimes, I pay attention, mostly I don’t. Mostly I’m thinking of You. Of how beautiful You looked at that art show, of how You gasped when you saw me like You couldn’t decide if You wanted to run to me or away.

From the corner of my eye, I see Y/N timidly raise her hand and You are temporarily pushed aside. She keeps her hand up but close to her chest, as if the very act of asking to speak is somehow terrifying.

How can someone so brave be so terrified to do something as common as speak in class? She’s clearly not a scared person by nature- she moved across an ocean to attend university when she could have gone for free back home to whatever state college she decided to attend. I’ve peeked at her transcripts- she’s smart. Not win a genius grant or a full ride smart, but smart. Why is she so nervous?

I smile and a bit of her nerves seem to quell. Her shoulders relax an inch and she smiles back.

“You know you don’t have to raise your hand, Y/N,” I tell her, laughing gently to put her at ease.

She dips her chin and then looks up with the most beautiful gaze I have ever seen. Her lashes flutter upwards in slow motion, the darkness of her pupils expand, pushing nearly every fleck of color away except the gemlike glow cast by the stained glass window over my head. She smiles and her lips shine like glass. Soft, pink, beautiful glass. I can’t look away and yet I absolutely have to. Thankfully, she speaks and I can act like I’m moving away to sit in my chair and not to get away from her.

“Sorry,” she says, sweet voice sweeping over the room. “I just didn’t want to jump in because I was late but-”

“But you have something to add,” I finish for her.

Her eyes float back to me and the atmosphere shifts. The foreboding of a lighting strike vanishes and the room seems to warm up. Quickly, I sit and scoot the chair close to the desk, set my elbows on the top, clasp my hands near my lips. I can’t stop staring at her.

She nods. “Yes. If that’s alright.”

There it is again, the tiniest speck of British on her tongue. How long has she been living here, and why? It can’t just be for school. She’s too interesting for that. She dresses to blend in; muted colors and clean jeans, her hair always swept back, face free of plastering makeup or too much color. There’s only ever that pink gloss and a gentle brush of mascara. It’s as if she doesn't know how beautiful she is, or perhaps, she doesn’t care.

Or was she one of those kids who never really got any attention until they blossomed but by then it was too late to fit into their personality?

She chews her lip nervously and shyly looks away from me.

No, she knows. She knows how beautiful she is, she just isn’t one to flaunt it; doesn’t need the attention. Or is that how she draws them in?

She’s already talking, but I can’t hear a thing she’s saying. I can hear her voice, that honey like glaze she adds to things when she’s speaking passionately, but the actual words, the meaning- I can’t follow a damned thing. I’m too busy trying to figure her out.

You flash through my mind for a moment; a sweet memory of a smile in the library when You didn’t think I was looking.

What is it about a smile that says so much without words? Does it show who we really are or who we’re pretending to be?

“I just think that love shouldn’t be so easily condemned.”

Y/N’s comment breaks through my thoughts of You and I clear my throat, straighten up in my chair, focus.

Across the room, Nadia rolls her eyes, clearly disagreeing with Y/N’s interpretation. “This isn’t love, it’s obsession. The two can’t and shouldn’t be intertwined.”

Y/N bites her bottom lip and shakes her head.

What does that lip gloss taste like? Berries, perhaps… No. Stop it. Focus.

“I disagree.” Y/N sits forward and tucks her hands below the table. “Love is obsession. Obsession is love. It’s not a tautology, no, but you can have one with the other. If you’re not even a little obsessed with the person you love, is it really love at all?”

My mind is zinging, my ears ringing. Does she truly believe that, or is it all for the sake of debating Nadia? They’ve been at war most of the semester, but this seems truthful, deep.

The bell rings before I can recenter and add anything. I give my head a little shake and stand up, the chair rolling back behind me.

“Class dismissed. Great job today. Lively, wonderful discourse.” I fake a smile at the rest and then settle on Y/N.

She’s taking her time, hanging back as she gathers her things. She stuffs a notebook into her bag and the pen she’s been using rolls away from her.

“Crap.” She lunges across the table for it, but it’s too close to the edge, too far from her reach.

I drop down at the last second and save it from a dusty fate of rolling across the floor. “Gotcha.”

She’s staring when I stand up. Our eyes meet and she doesn’t shy away, but looks even deeper somehow. A smile lifts her cheeks and my pulse quickens.

No.

She holds out her hand and there’s a fleeting second when I want to trace my fingers across her palm, feel how soft and warm she is, but no. I toss her the pen and turn, trying to get her out of my head.

I have more important things to do than become a tired cliche. Some professor falling for a student. It’s an outrageous thought, and besides, I don’t need Y/N, I have You.

I hear the zipper close and a chair being pushed in. She’s leaving.

She lingers in the door and turns back to me with a sweet smile. “Have a good weekend, Professor.”

Her tone is so genuine, so kind that it nearly knocks me backwards. I can’t remember the last time anyone has truly wished me a good time. It’s such an overused pleasantry, so common and boring, but not when she says it. Not when she smiles at me like that, with her eyes still and focused on me.

The warmth spreading through me is real as well and I can’t seem to push it away. “Thank you,” I managed, barely able to stand let alone return the sentiment. “You too.”

The rest of the day goes by quickly but it feels like forever. Two more classes, two more groups of students droning on about what the author really meant, when none of them, not a single one seems to be able to read between the fucking lines. None of them can step back and see the whole picture, capture the meaning as a universe unto itself and not just a line in black and white on an otherwise blank page.

Y/N could read between the lines. Y/N would understand the sum of it all. She would get it.

Stop. Thinking. About. Her.

On my walk home, I think about You. Wondering what You’re up to, where You are tonight. The sun is setting, dragging the sky down into a deep pink and I wonder if You are seeing the same colors where You are. Someday, we’ll sit together on an island in the Pacific and see what that sunset looks like. Would You paint it for me, I wonder…

Y/N crosses my mind for a moment as I gaze at the light reflecting off a window as I pass. Would the sunset hit her shining lip gloss in the same way? Would the pink deepen with the sky? Would she smile if she caught me staring, back away if I leaned in to drag my thumb across her juicy, pink bottom lip?

No.

Darkness has settled and I haven’t moved to turn on a lamp. I’m stuck, glued to my sofa, my hands nailed to my thighs. I keep my eyes open for fear of seeing her face, but bouncing around the room looking for a distraction is only giving me a headache. I need to get out. I need something to do. I need-

A knock at the door.

Who would be knocking at my door at nearly ten o’clock at night?

Curiosity pulls me off of the couch and I switch on the lights as I head to the door. The peephole is clouded as fuck, but I can see her outline. My stomach tightens, my shoulders tense.

What is she doing here?

Her hand raises to knock again, but I unlatch the door before her knuckles hand. I find her dangling in the air, her startled face the most appealing thing I’ve seen in ages. Her eyes go wide, her jaw drops just enough to give me a peek at her tongue. Quickly, she rights herself and shies her gaze away. She chews her lip and I notice the pink gloss is gone, replaced by a deeper red.

Everything about her is different tonight. Her hair is down and fresh, her eyes are lined in black and the color blended above brings out the prisms in her eyes. Her clothes are strange as well: a short skirt, tall boots, a blouse that’s too tight to hide anything. There’s a gold string around her throat, something old, a gift perhaps from a dead relative, or a chance find at an antique shop. She would like diving through boxes of discarded wares looking for treasures, wouldn’t she?

Or maybe I’m just distracted by her appearance. Maybe I should stop trying to pick her apart and send her far, far away.

I’m not that man anymore. I’ve changed. I’m good. I have to be good for You.

It’s been too long since either of us has said anything and the fact of it is hanging in the air between us like some kind of glowing, awkward sign.

Thankfully, she speaks.

“Um… Hi.”

It isn’t much, but it breaks the painful silence.

I smile, confused but curious. My ultimate downfall.

“Y/N. What are you doing here?”

I should say something about it being inappropriate, something about contacting me only during office hours, but she knows. That’s not why she’s here. I can see it in her eyes.

Her hands are tucked behind her back, I notice. She’s holding something, not just shoving her tits in my face, although, I can’t say that I mind. She sees that I’m looking and turns to the side a bit to hide it more.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, calming herself, steeling her nerves. Why is she so nervous? What secret is she hiding? What plan has been brewing all day in her head?

That’s it, isn’t it? She was late this morning, distracted and timid because she was planning to come here.

I should be flattered, but I’m too intrigued by her boldness as she slides past me into my flat.

“I know this is highly inappropriate,” she says, the confession like a song on her lips. “But… I… Well…”

Her nose scrunches up in the most adorable way while she searches for the right words. It’s endearing and makes me want to sit for hours and listen to her talk, discover exactly who she is and why.

I’m still standing in the open doorway, I realize, so I move aside and let it close. My back presses into the door and I hold my tongue, letting her get to the point.

She’s struggling, dancing around it in her head.

I want to crack open her skull and watch the thoughts spark through the gray matter like shooting stars.

“If you’re worried you’ll get in trouble,” I say, trying to get things moving, “you won’t. I’m just wondering why you’re here and how it is that you know where I live.”

She laughs and digs her tooth into the corner of her lip. “I’m not… stalking you or anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

I almost laugh. Almost.

“Nothing that nefarious,” she goes on. “But I did do something bad.”

The nerves seem to fall away from her the more she speaks and her demeanor changes. Her voice deepens ever so slightly and her hip pops to the side as she looks me over. Is she… flirting with me?

“I doubt you’ve done anything newsworthy, Miss Y/L/N…”

She takes a step forward and her lips pucker gently.

She is flirting with me.

“I hope not,” she says with a little laugh. “You see, I work part time in the admin office…”

I didn’t know that. I don’t know a lot about her. So many things to uncover, so many artifacts to dust off and examine.

“OK…” I push off from the door and take a step towards her. She counters, stepping backwards, guiding me to follow.

“And, well, I accidentally was looking at your files and-”

“Accidentally?”

She presses her tongue between her front teeth and smiles, eyes falling across my face. “Accidentally on purpose,” she clarifies. “I was… curious.”

“About me?”

Another step closer but she doesn’t move this time, letting me close the space between us by a few forbidden inches.

She sighs sweetly. “A little, yes.”

I dip my chin and look up, lifting my brows in question. She pulls in a quick breath, clearly enjoying the look I’ve given her.

“OK, maybe a little more than a little.”

One more step and I’m closer than I’ve ever really been to her, except just now when she invited herself in. I take a breath and she smells warm like vanilla, sweet like honey. The fantasy of berries on her lips falls away and I suddenly want to bury my face in the crook of her neck and do nothing but breathe in her scent, feel it invade my senses, infect my bloodstream.

Her chest heaves with a heavy breath and her eyes grow a little darker. She wants me.

“Maybe a lot curious,” she whispers, lifting her chin and blinking slowly.

Is she daring me to kiss her? Can she feel the lightning between us? Dare I?

No. She’s a student. She’s off limits. She’s not… You.

She must notice my hesitation and steps back a pace. She clears her throat. “Anyway. I saw that it was your birthday today.”

It’s not my birthday. Not my real birthday, anyway, just the one on the fake passport with the fake name and real photo.

I smile because I have to. “It is.”

Whatever she’s hiding behind her back shifts between her hands. “And, well, it’s presumptuous of me but I’ve never heard you talk much about friends or family and… you don’t wear a… ring. I just… Well, I know how hard it is to be a world away from what you know, and this city isn’t exactly kind in general, so…”

She’s rambling and I don’t ever want her to stop. Her voice ebbs and flows over me like a sultry tsunami and I can feel my fingers twitch, my blood rush through my system faster and faster.

“I just don’t think anyone should be alone or forgotten on their birthday so-” Finally, she reveals the mystery behind her back and holds out a green glass bottle. “I took a chance that you were a scotch man. At first I thought wine, but I know nothing about wine, and the guy at the shop said this one was good, so… Happy birthday, Professor.”

She hands me the bottle and without thinking, I take it. It’s not expensive by any means, but it’s the gesture that counts. She doesn’t let go right away, holding it with me, as if she can communicate her desires through the blown glass.

“Thank you.” I smile, let my finger brush against hers. “This is… very thoughtful.”

She lets go but doesn’t move otherwise. Her eyes are locked on me, her stare so pure.

I have to get her out of here.

Y/N shrugs and smiles, so confident now, so sure. “It’s nothing, really. I don’t even know if it’s any good.”

Her meaning lingers and I nod, gesture to the sofa as I start to peel off the seal on the top of the bottle.

“Join me for a glass?”

She bites her lip again and I nearly lose it.

“Love to.”

The scotch isn’t terrible but it’s not great. More like something you’d grab if you were just looking to get drunk, not necessarily gift someone you’re trying to impress.

Is that what she’s doing here? Trying to get me drunk? Surely, she knows she’s impressed me long before today. The looks between us in class, the lectures directed almost entirely at her have not gone unnoticed, but this, this is different. This is dangerous. She is dangerous.

The sofa suddenly feels too small. We sit close, drinking and chatting about life in London. She tells me about her family back home and how she had to cross an ocean to escape a misspent youth and an abusive father figure. I lie my way through a few answers but mostly, I let her talk.

The more she drinks, the looser her tongue gets, the freer her gestures. More than once, her hand falls to my knee and even though I should, I don’t push her away. Even though I should stand up, take her glass, ask her to get the hell out of my house, I can’t. I can’t do anything but stare at her lips as she speaks, drown myself in the tone of her voice, memorize the shape of her ears, her nose, slope of her shoulder. I’m lost in time with her and even though I know the clock is careening past midnight, I don’t care. I don’t want her to leave. I don’t want her to move. I want to be frozen in this moment with her. I want to die in her arms but not before…

“Professor?” She laughs gently, loose and relaxed from the alcohol. She leans in, her shoulder pressing against mine. “Are you even listening to me?”

Honestly, I have no idea what she’s been saying, but I can’t let her know that. I shift a bit, turning towards her. There’s barely room left for the Holy Ghost, as they say, but I doubt he’d begrudge me a little closeness, especially on my- on Jonathan’s birthday.

“I’m listening,” I whisper, captivated by the way she’s glowing. “I’m always listening to you.”

She squirms a bit and smiles behind her glass, takes another sip, downing the rest. There’s a drop of amber gold on her lip and it takes every ounce of restraint in me not to sweep it away with my tongue.

She pats the back of her hand against it and the moment is gone.

“Ya know, you’re one of the best teachers I’ve ever had. And I’m not just sayin’ that. You really are. I get you. I see you, Jonathan Moore. I see inside you.”

She slurs a bit, but not enough for it to be considered a crime if I touch her. That’s all I want to do, just a simple touch. Just to feel how soft she is beneath my fingers, how smooth the curve of her cheek.

Ripping myself away from the impulse, I take the glass from her hand and set hers next to mine on the coffee table. “I think you’ve had enough, Miss. Y/L/N.”

Her hand lands on my chest, right in the very center of me. Can she feel my heartbeat? Does she know how much I want her?

“You can call me by my name, ya know,” she says, dropping her chin and smiling. She’s so close that it would take but a tiny nudge to taste her. “Everyone just calls me Y/N/N.”

This is insane. She needs to leave. I need to slam the door behind her and never open it again.

“Y/N/N.”

Her name falls from my tongue like an incantation and her eyes go hazy. She leans closer, her breath fanning over my lips.

“Say it again,” she asks, nearly begging, “please…”

Fuck, this isn’t good. I can’t do this. I shouldn’t do this. I need to- Fuck, what does it all matter? She’s beautiful and interesting and smart and sitting next to me barely dressed and all she wants is me to whisper her name. What’s the harm?

“Y/N/N.”

The spell falls over her and I know it’s too late to back away. Her eyes fall closed and she leans in, pressing her crimson painted lips to mine. She exhales, pushes herself into the kiss, lets out a tiny moan.

She feels so good and it’s all I can think about. She pulls back and I lean in, needing more. My arms wrap around her, stealing her away. She melts against me, opens her lips to my tongue. The vanilla on her skin mixes with the scotch on her tongue and I’m blown away.

“Professor…”

If feels wrong, so fucking wrong, but I can’t stop tasting her, can’t stop breathing into her with every ounce of air in my body.

I let her go for a second, thinking she’s changed her mind, but no, she’s even more ready than I am.

She stands up, fits her knees in between mine and slowly unbuttons her blouse.

My eyes are huge, I know it. I must look like an idiot but I can’t help it. She’s here, beautiful and curvaceous, teasing me, undressing for me. It’s all for me. She’s here for me.

The blouse floats to the floor and she looks down at me, a hint of previous nerves returning. Her bra is pale pink and covered in lace. Something so pure and innocent covering up something I would kill for.

I would, I realize. I would kill for her.

She wiggles out of her skirt and her hips are distracting. I want to touch, to feel my bones crushing into hers, to sink myself deep inside just to see what it’s like, to know her, to feel all of her.

“You like?” she asks, innocence ringing in her soft voice.

What happened in her past that would make her ask such a thing? Who hurt her so badly, who crushed her self esteem to the point that she wouldn’t be able to tell if I was enjoying her delicious display?

“Of course. You’re… absolutely stunning.”

I can’t say more or I’ll break. I reach for her and she slides into my lap, locking her thighs around mine. She presses down on me and my cock responds, all blood and logic rushing down to push back at her ass.

She wraps her hands around my neck and bends to kiss me. Her fingers tangle in my hair, she curls them, tugs gently, testing, enjoying. Her kisses deepen and her hips roll. I’m about to lose my mind.

“I’ve wanted to do this since the first day of class,” she moans, scraping her nails across my scalp.

The sensation is intoxicating and my eyes roll back a bit as she tugs hard. Her right hand is locked in my hair and her left is dragging down my chest. I should stop her. I should stand up. I should…

“Fuck.”

Her hand sneaks into my slacks and she scoots back onto my knees for better access. I can’t even think straight as she rubs at my cock. Her hand is soft, warm, firm. I know I’m moaning, but I can’t help it. I might just die here beneath her.

Her tongue glides across my lips. “So hard to sit in class and not dream about fucking you…”

Something snaps inside of me and I let go. I grab at her tits, peel the delicate lace down and pinch her nipples hard until she’s crying out and arching against me.

“I can’t even read anymore,” she admits, nearly breathless as my lips seal around her left nipple. “Every page makes me think of you. I can hear every word in your voice. I- oh God-”

I bite down just enough to stop her train of thought and I look up to see a blank, beautiful stare.

“I want you,” she whispers, lips never quite closing after.

Fuck. This is what I was trying to avoid. This feeling, this hunger inside of me. This need to fall into someone else, this treacherous lust that forces me to act.

“Please…”

Her hand falls to the nape of my neck and it’s so delicate, so tender that I break.

Wrapping my arms around her, I stand and twist, flipping her over onto her back. She gasps and reaches for me, kissing through the shock while I tug the slacks from my hips. She yanks at my shirt, fumbling with the tiny plastic buttons, licking at every new inch of exposed flesh.

“Want you inside me so bad,” she sings, nearly praying as if I’m some ancient god on high that can make all her dreams come true.

I don’t know about all of them, but this prayer, I can answer.

I tear the lace from her hips and fall down over her, crushing her into the old sofa. Her breath stops for a blessed second and I swear I can hear her heart racing through the silence. She runs her hands across my shoulders and down, curling them around my hips while spreading her legs wider.

“Please… Please… Please…”

Her whine is pathetic but I can’t get enough. If I had it in me to drag this out, to tease her for hours, I would, but the scotch has clouded my head and the sight of her strung out and desperate makes it impossible to wait.

She inhales hard when I sink into her. I can feel myself falling but I press my hands beside her head and hold on as best I can.

She feels like heaven.

Or the closest thing to heaven I’ll ever know.

Wet and warm and tight, I can feel her throbbing around me. Every thrust is like magic, making her shiver and squirm and tighten up even more. She clings to me, nails digging into my arms, mouth searching and thirsty for more.

“Jon-”

I almost go insane. It’s not even my name, but it feels so right on her lips that I wish it was.

I feel her orgasm; her body clenching down on me and pulling me in deeper. It’s so hard not to scream her name at the top of my lungs. Nearly impossible not to stay here forever.

I fall down, shove my face into the crook of her neck and thrust a few more times. I know it’s over too soon, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

She rakes her hand through my hair, gently this time, and finds my lips, kissing me sweetly.

“Hi,” she laughs when our eyes finally focus and find each other through the afterglow.

God, she’s beautiful. So giving, so loving, so perfect in a million different ways that it’s actually breaking my heart.

I smile and peck her lips as I go soft inside of her.

“Hello, You.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript:

Atlas: You’re here. I wasn’t expecting you until—Whoa!

Atlas: [high-pitched voice] Jasper! What are you doin’ here buddy? What’re you doin? Asher: Is this alright? Atlas: Sure. You’re early and you brought the dog, is everything… shit, Ash.

Atlas: What happened to your face? Are you okay? Asher: I’m fine. It’s not that bad. Atlas: Come here, tell me what happened.

Asher: James showed up at the house to see Spence. The social worker wasn’t there yet, so I told him to wait outside. He lost his shit and shoved the door open on me. Hence, my face. So, to keep him from getting too far, I stuck my foot out and tripped him. He went down hard, smacked his face on the floor and broke his nose. Which would have been hilarious, except Spence woke up from her nap and saw the whole thing. Atlas: Oh no.

Asher: Yeah, she was pretty upset. Now, Iris is pissed at me. She fucking went off on me and then took James to the hospital. She’s the one who told me his visits had to be supervised and not to let him take her. Atlas: Was he trying to take her?

Asher: I don’t know. I wasn’t going to give him the chance. Atlas: … [phone buzzes] Asher: Atlas. Atlas: Hm? Asher: I really need you on my side here. [phone buzzes]

Atlas: It’s Dawn. She wants to come over. Asher: Really? Now? Atlas: It’s fine. I’ll tell her it’s not a good time.

Atlas: Do you want something to eat? Asher: No. Atlas: … Asher: … Am I the asshole? Atlas: No, you’re not. Asher: Then, why won’t you look me in the eye? Atlas: [sighs] Did you provoke him?

Asher: What?! Atlas: C’mon Ash, you antagonize him any chance you get. I know he’s a prick and you don’t want him around, but I’m starting to think you want him to attack you. If he gets another assault charge while he’s on probation, then he’ll end up back in jail and lose any chance of seeing Spencer again. Asher: Well, if he loses his shit over my little jabs, then maybe he shouldn’t be around a three-year-old. Atlas: That’s not up to you to decide. It’s his kid, Ash.

Asher: I can’t believe this. Atlas: Look, I know you mean well. But if he’s as unstable as you say he is, then I’m sure he’ll fuck up on his own sooner or later. You don’t need to put yourself in the middle. Asher: I guess I’d rather he punches me in the face than break Iris’s arm again.

Atlas: [sighs] Asher: You weren’t there, Atlas. It was awful. And if anything were to happen to Spence…

Asher: I hate this. Atlas: I know.

Asher: I shouldn’t have tripped him. If I hadn’t, maybe him busting into the house and doing this [gesturing to his face] would’ve been enough. Atlas: Maybe. Asher: How was I supposed to know he’d go down face first? Dipshit didn’t even try to catch himself. Atlas: [snickers] I do kinda wish I’d seen that. Asher: [chuckles]

Atlas: For the record, I’m always on your side. Asher: Thanks. Can we stay here tonight? Atlas: Yeah, of course. I’ll put some food out for Jasp. You sure you don’t want anything? Asher: No, I’m good.

[phone buzzing] Asher: Sounds like you sister’s blowing up your phone again.

Atlas: She can wait. I’ll call her tomorrow.

[armoricaroyalty]

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next

author's note: now here are those wholesome sibling relationships we have all come to love and expect from my story!

Transcript under the cut.

Nakawe Palace // Armorican State Visit - Day 2

REPORTER | ...I'm live outside of Nakawe Palace, where the press and members of the public alike have gathered following unconfirmed reports that Crown Princess Rosalind has, for 3 years, conducted a secret relationship. REPORTER | This afternoon, Uspanian tabloid The Concordia Times broke the story of the Crown Princess's relationship with Komrebigan national—and accused murderer—Hakane Satō, also known as Mary Yokoyama. REPORTER | [offscreen] In 2013, Yokoyama was named as a person of interest in the still-unsolved disappearance of her husband, Noah Satō. She was questioned by Komorebigan police in 2013 and again in 2014, but released without charge. Blackwell Palace has yet to comment on this developing story... MARY | [offscreen] Are you sure this is a good idea? ROSALIND | Do you have a better one? MARY | No, but give me a week— ROSALIND | We don't have a week. ROSALIND | [in Komorebigo] Darling, is everything alright? You seem upset. MARY | [forcing a smile] I'm fine. [knock on door] ROSALIND | That's them, now. ROSALIND | You're late. MARY | Good to see you both. EMILY | Don't look at me! I was ready to go while he was still putting his contacts in. FREDERICK | Sorry. I was late getting back from Canarís. I ran into an old friend... ROSALIND | Well...whatever! Come in! Sit down! We need to talk... ROSALIND | So...I'm sure you've seen the news by now. FREDERICK | Heck, I've seen the reporters. They're still all outside, by the way. EMILY | Frederick... ROSALIND | Can you not be a smug know-it-all for 15 minutes? This is serious. ROSALIND | We don't know how the story got out. We're looking into potential leaks, but in the meantime, we can't allow the press to run with this. The longer it's in the headlines, the worse it'll be for the family. EMILY | I'm so sorry, Your Highness. This must be so difficult— FREDERICK | You've got friends in the press. Can't you get Vance Marshall or one of his cronies to kill this one for you? He's done it before. ROSALIND | It's too late for that. It's all over the Uspanian press and the major Armorican networks have already picked it up. Our only option now is damage control, and we'll need something big to bury this one. ROSALIND | [sighs] We need you. Both of you. EMILY | Both of us? FREDERICK | I don't think I like where this is headed... ROSALIND | [offscreen] The only thing that people love more than a royal scandal is a royal wedding. EMILY | ... FREDERICK | ... FREDERICK | Roz, are you shitting me? EMILY | Frederick— FREDERICK | You want me to propose just to bury an embarrassing story? ROSALIND | What's the big deal? You were going to do it, anyway— FREDERICK | get shit from the press every single day of my life! And you have never once lifted a finger to defend me, but I'm supposed to make major life decisions to spare you a couple weeks of bad press? ROSALIND | [offscreen] I am the Crown Princess— FREDERICK | Yeah! I know! You've never once let anyone forget it. ROSALIND | [offscreen] —I have to be beyond reproach. ROSALIND | Unlike you, I do not have the luxury of making mistakes. Everything I do has to be perfect, for the sake of the entire family! Everyone depends on me, Freddy! Do you really think the Armorican taxpayer would keep paying for your fuck-ups if I wasn't included in the bargain? FREDERICK | Oh, poor you, it must be sOoOo fucking hard being the chosen one! ROSALIND | IT'S NOT MY FAULT I WAS BORN FIRST YOU ENTITLED LITTLE— EMILY | [offscreen] [sobs] FREDERICK | ...Em?

[mostlyanything19]

I’m gonna be honest you guys, I’ve not actually been shipping Imogen and Laudna much in the romantic sense, I just really enjoy what they have so far, but after everything tonight I can’t really get over the ring???

I went back in the transcripts and refreshed my memory of when Imogen bought it, so like, let me get this straight, what happened is the following:

1) Imogen and Laudna had at the time not reconciled but Imogen had received the gifts of a pencil and a potholder from Laudna.

2) Dusk had just asked Imogen if her and Laudna were a thing. Imogen denied this but it was a very charged moment after she’d been steeping in jealousy all day.

3) Imogen, having already made up her mind that she was gonna make up with Laudna even though she’s still unsure how to go about it, goes back to the jeweller’s. Ostensibly, her only objective is to get the guy’s signature on a receipt, for later forging, so she says she’s there to look for “a present”, something that’ll look good but not cost too much money.

4) There is explicitly all sorts of jewellery on offer. Rings, bracelets, cufflinks, necklaces. Imogen is only interested in the rings. She asks after one, is told it costs three gold (which would fit the goal of an alibi piece of jewellery to buy that isn’t expensive), and visibly reconsiders:

5) "Mm. All right. And if I wanted to be serious and get something real?“

6) Imogen gets real and the ring she chooses costs her 65 fricking gold pieces and it’s a fricking ring, and she buys it to give it to Laudna because it reminded her of them, and and somehow in Imogen’s mind this is a completely reasonable thing to do in response to being given a gift shop pencil and a potholder by someone desperate to get back into your good graces after a fight, and isn’t at all like, say, if you got me a nice bicycle tire and I said “oh by the way I got you something too” and gave you a whole entire car, except also this happened in a universe in which cars were most frequently given to others as promises and professions of love, and I’m losing this metaphor somewhat but Imogen I just wanna know what you’re thinking--

[nellasbookplanet]

Book recs: robots and artificial intelligences

A note: I'm differentiating here between artificial intelligence and transhumanism (such as uploaded consciousnesses and cyborgs), which I intend to make a separate rec post for at a later date.

(Titles marked with * are my personal favorites)

Other book rec posts:

Really cool fantasy worldbuilding, really cool sci-fi worldbuilding, dark sapphic romances, mermaid books, vampire books, portal fantasies

Continue beneath the cut for details on the books!

The Outside by Ada Hoffman*

AKA the book the put me in an existenial crisis. Souls are real, and they are used to feed AI gods in this lovecraftian inspired scifi where reality is warped and artifical gods stand against real, unfathomable ones. Autistic scientist Yasira is accused of heresy and, to save her eternal soul, is recruited by post-human cybernetic 'angels’ to help hunt down her own former mentor, who is threatening to tear reality itself apart.

The Prey of Gods by Nicky Drayden

South African-set scifi featuring gods ancient and new, robots finding sentience, dik-diks, and a gay teen with mind control abilities. An ancient goddess seeks to return to her true power no matter how many humans she has to sacrifice to get there. A little bit all over the place but very creative and fresh.

17776: What Football Will Look Like in the Future by Jon Bois*

A multi-media web novel available to read freely online (which you should do!!). I don't want to give too much away as the initial punch of finding things out is part of the journey, but it's both hilarious and profound as it questions the meaning of humanity and life.

Illuminae (Illuminae Files) by Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff*

Young adult told through the medium of transcripts, text messages and the like (this is one of few books where I highly recommend reading a physical copy over a digital as the visual aspect is much more enjoyable like that). After their colony is attacked, the surviving inhabitants flee on space ships, attempting to avoid the pursuing killers while also dealing with a deadly madening plague on board and a ruthless ship AI seemingly losing its mind.

A Closed and Common Orbit (Wayfarers series) by Becky Chambers*

Technically part two of a series, but stands well on its own as the installments are only losely connected (though I recommend reading the first book as well, it's very good). A former ship's AI recently moved into an illegal android body tries to make sense of life as she navigates her way through humans and aliens alike.

The Quiet at the End of the World by Lauren James*

Young adult. After the spread of a global virus causing infertility, teenagers Lowrie and Shen are now the youngest humans alive as the adults around them race to find a cure. As they investigate the ruins of the world, the two come across records from the past, of how grief stricken people turned to raising artificial children in apps and how these 'children' developed, and through these records the two learn of their history. Also has a bisexual main character!

A Psalm for the Wild-Built (Monk and Robot series) by Becky Chambers

Novella. Long ago, robots, upon gaining sentience, simply laid down their work and walked into the wilderness. Long after, a tea monk looking for purpose follows after them into the wilds, where they come across one of the robots seeking its own sort of answers. While not plotless, this story focuses more on character and vibes over plot. Also has a nonbinary main character and features conversations on gender between human and robot.

All Systems Red (The Murderbot Diaries) by Martha Wells*

After having hacked its own governor module, SecUnit uses its small amount of new freedom to secretly download and watch as much media as it can between doing its job guarding humans. But when the scientists it’s been charged with keeping safe come under attack, it must make a choice about whether to continue keeping its freedom secret or risk it all to save them. The series features both novellas and full length novels, and balances humor with scathing critique of capitalism.

Machinehood by S.B. Divya

Prudent in the rise of AI and machine learning, Machinehood shows a near future in which humans struggle to find a place on the workforce as more and more jobs are given to AI. Status quo is shaken as a dangerous terrorist group calling itself The Machinehood starts committing attacks. A close look both at the rights of humans in a technologically changing world, and at the rights of AI as their intelligence edges ever closer to full sentience.

The Company of Death by Elisa Hansen*

A wild mix of genres, where a zombie apocalypse has struck and vampires gather up humans to keep their food source from going extinct, a robot travels across America with a young man she's tasked to keep safe, and former-vampire-hunter-recent-zombie Emily teams up with Death himself to stop the apocalypse. Features bi and ace characters! Bonus rec: the author also runs the youtube channel Maven of the Eventide, where she talks about various vampire media. Check it out!

Railhead by Philip Reeve

Young adult. In a future where humanity travel between the stars using not spaceships but a portal-connected system of sentient trains, a young thief and street urchin is hired to steal something off of the Emperor's train.

Being by Kevin Brooks*

Young adult. Cards on the table, I think I was about 14 when I last read this, but it made a strong enough impression that I still think of it as one of my favorite books. After having gone in for a routine exam, doctors make a stunning discovery about Robert Smith: he isn't human. Suddenly hunted, Robert goes on the run as he tries to cope with the fact of his own existence. While I love this book, it gives very few answers to its many mysteries, so don’t go in expecting full explanations.

Ancillary Justice by Ann Leckie*

A space opera in which sentient spaceships can walk the ground in stolen human bodies, so called ancillaries. One of these ancillaries, the sole survivor after the complete destruction of her ship and crew, is one the hunt for revenge. This series also does very cool things with gender!

Crier's War by Nina Varela

Who says sci-fi has monopoly on robots? In sapphic YA fantasy Crier's War, artificially created automae have defeated and subjugated humans, who live as second class citizens. Young Ayla goes undercover as a servant, meaning to assassinate automae girl and Sovereign's daughter Crier. This would be easier if the two weren't quick to develop feelings for each other.

My Heart is Human by Reese Hogan

Nine years ago, all complex technology was made illegal. This complicates life for Joel, young transgender single father, as a bionic just uploaded itself into his brain without consent. Scared of losing his daughter, Joel tries to keep the bionic secret while using it to fix his life, but things quickly get more complicated as the bionic gains more and more control of his body. Makes a lot of cool paralells of bodily autonomy to Joel's experiences as a transman. Bonus rec: if you like the general concept of struggling for physical control over one's body with an AI, may I also suggest the (much grittier and gory) movie Upgrade.

The Archive Undying (The Downworld Sequence) by Emma Mieko Candon

In a world where AI gods sometimes lose their minds and take entire populations down with them, Sunai was the only survivor when his god went down. In the 17 years since, he has wandered on his own, unable to either die or age, drowning his sorrows in drink and men. But his attempts to flee his past comes to a stop as he is forced back into the struggle between man and machine. Featuring some pretty wild world building and narrative techniques, this book will definitely confuse you, but it is worth the experience.

Activation Degradation by Marina J. Lostetter

Unit Four comes to life in the middle of a war. The mine it was created to care for is under attack, and as Unit Four is activated with the memories of its predecessors, it is thrown into the task of protecting it at any cost. When the battle leads to its capture, it is prepared to do anything to stop its captors, even as their very presence causes it to question all that it knows.

Sea of Rust by C. Robert Cargill*

Years after the death of the last human at the hands of a robot uprising, Brittle travels the desert searching for machines on the brink of breaking down whose parts she can scavenge. The world is quickly falling apart as a war between OWIs - One World Intelligences - struggle to absorb every robot, willing or not. Bleak and captivating, Sea of Rust features horrible people who you can’t help but root for anyway as they struggle for their lives while questioning the very nature of said lives.

Bonus AKA I haven't read these yet but they seem really cool

Hybrid Child by Mariko Ōhara

Japanese 1990s classic. Follows an escaped AI who can take on the form of the people it has consumed.

World Running Down by Al Hess

Follows a powerful AI that has been forced into an android body against its will.

The Thousand Year Beach by Hirotaka Tobi

Set in a virtual world populated by AIs, meant as a resort for human guests who stopped showing up over a thousand years ago, leaving the AIs on their own.

And Shall Machines Surrender by Benjanun Sriduangkaew

Novella. Machines are the gods and rulers of the Dyson sphere Shenzhen, where humans live in luxury and strive to become host bodies for future AIs.

After On by Rob Reid

Phluttr is a social media and a person, potential hero and potential villain, holder of the secrets of all her users.

Annie Bot by Sierra Greer

Annie Bot was designed to be a perfect girlfriend, but as she learns all the more about being human, perfection becomes all the more distant.

Honorary mentions AKA these didn't really work for me but maybe you guys will like them:

The Lives of Puppets by T.J. Klune, Machines Like Me by Ian McEwan, Barbary Station by R.E. Stearns, The A.I. Who Loved Me by Alyssa Cole, Medusa Uploaded by Emily Devenport

[devilclan-clangen]

Moon 1, part 1/2

Finally, the long awaited moon 1. Even though it's only part 1 lol. I don't have a picture of Yellowpaw's sprite as an apprentice so they're stuck as kit until they become a warrior.

Start: Welcome to devilclan

Prev: Moon 0

Next: Moon 1, part 2

Asks are open!

Transcript:

"Are you going to help us around here?"

"Just because some cats die doesn't mean that's an excuse."

"You don't know anything."

"My whole family's dead and you don't see me moping around."

"Hmph."

"We have to figure stuff out though. I think you have to be leader."

"Me?! Why me?!"

"Well I'm the medicine cat and the others are too young. Your brother was also deputy."

"I'm not replacing him."

"You wouldn't be replacing..."

"It's because I look like him and he's my brother means I am him. I love him but I'm tired of living in his shadow."

"Maybe you could be the leader he never got to be but also be your own?"

"If Fleckpaw is leader does that make me deputy?"

"I don't think I'm ready though."

"I don't think anybody's ever ready."

"You seem ready to take charge. Why can't you be leader?"

"I'm the medicine cat, I can't."

"I'll be the medicine cat!"

"Fine. I'll be the leader."

[End]

[isagrimorie]

And then from The Hidden Memory to the season 1 finale, Family Ties between Crichton and Crais, after Crais defects to the crew of Moya.

The crew places Crais in a jail cell with John watching over him and god, this moment was so charged.

The decision to film John solitary, alone with his gun out. A few weeks after John's own torture in the Aurora Chair. The physical change from John's easy cockiness to this closed-in, damaged version of John. He will never be the same again after the Chair.

And then switching point of view to Crais, opposite of him, filmed through the bars of the cell. Staring intently at each other, two men changed by the Chair in different ways.

John: How're you doing? Crais: Why would you ask? John: I look at you... And I get homesick. I'm desperate for human, male-to-male conversation. And I figure cars, football... They're out of the question.

Crais: Do you think it's an accident, our species are so much alike?

John: You know the answer to that?

Crais: No. It's one of the mysteries I will miss solving.

John: Yeah.

John: Yeah. Kinda makes you feel your mortality doesn't it? Being in there. That's what it's like for us every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second... with you riding our asses.

Crais: I understand you didn't mean to kill my brother.

This is such a big moment for Crais to admit, after all the months he spent hunting Crichton and the crew down. But Crais didn't get here, to this moment, alone.

Crais got there because he was put on the Aurora Chair too, and then Aeryn left him there to suffer, and the final indignity of Scorpius's boot on his neck.

Crais: It was an accident.

I love that the director took a moment to zoom in on John, to hear this after all these months of horror. This show lets this moment breathe.

Crais: I realize that now, as I look back and try to understand it all. John: (a tear runs down his cheek as he wearily watches Crais) Do you have any idea what you put me through? All of us through?

Crais: (regretfully) I thought it was about my brother. It should've been about my brother. Somewhere along the way my priorities... Decayed. I realized I'd became more concerned with my own image and career.

John: If you mean to help, now's the time.

(transcript)

And after everything and John listening to Crais... John tells him: "If you mean to help. Now's the time."

John's not forgiving nor forgetting but he is tired and they're up against an enemy so much bigger and deadlier.

I don't even think they have an understanding. They will never like each other but John's just tired and they're out of options and Crais is there on Moya.

And, man, not a lot of shows past and present take the time to have this moment between two former foes. It all built up so well too because 6 episodes before this moment I wouldn't have bought it but Farscape did the work to get these characters in a room... talking.

[punisheddonjuan]

Over the last week I've been back in my hometown of Hamilton staying at my parents' house and sleeping in my old bedroom. I had that optometrist appointment earlier in the week, it's Easter on Sunday, and I need to order my prescription at the pharmacy here on Monday anyway. So, an extended visit was an obvious choice. It's been nice. This afternoon I did a little dig through my closet after my mom mentioned that she would like to clear out anything in there which I wasn't keen on keeping. So I took a look, and while there was definitely stuff in there I am fine getting rid of, and in many cases can't remember why I hung onto it for as long as I did, there was also a bunch of neat old stuff in there.

Everything in that closet is thrown into a few banker's boxes, I wasn't quite sure what was in each of them. The first box I dove into turned out to contain all of my university coursework, all five years of it, and much of it disorganized and in disarray. I must have just thrown things in there, because there were loose sheets of translation work interleaved out of order, folders stuffed to breaking with photocopied journal articles and book chapters from different courses, syllabi and unrelated essays in messy piles, and various notebooks, loose notes and revisions. Organizing it all is not a task I'm up doing any time soon, and part of me doubts that I'll ever get it done, it's hardly important anymore. Surveying it all made me think on what a shame it is that I never have any occasion or reason to write things out by hand. I miss using my fountain pens, and my cursive was really quite nice.

I also found my official transcript, of which I have seven copies for reasons that have been lost to time. Presumably I ordered more copies because of grad school applications, but I can't remember.

I guess I did pretty well. And even though grades don't matter at all after you graduate, I did have to do a double take and think back for a minute trying to remember how the hell I managed to bomb Beginner's Ancient Greek II winding up with a C after getting an A in Beginner's Ancient Greek I (and then back to getting As after that). The memory did eventually resurface; I had deferred the exam on account of illness, but when it came time to write the exam in the summer, I wound up running a fever anyway, and on top of that, I was writing it a little over a week after my girlfriend had broken up with me. To be entirely honest, that summer and back half of the year is something of a blur. Welp, oh well.

Oh and hey, in one of those messy piles I found the paper for which I won a departmental essay contest and then third place in the national CAC undergraduate essay writing contest.

The professor's comments were far too kind. It's an okay paper for an undergraduate, I'd change a lot of things looking back at it now. I wonder what Dr. Corner is up to these days and if he finally finished his book. We had lunch together when I first moved to Toronto but that was years ago now. He was the professor I was closest to, a real mentor.

Buried behind the coursework box was another banker's box containing something entirely unrelated but very cool, these:

It's my old iPods! The 30GB iPod Video is completely dead, but the 160GB iPod Classic booted after I found a cable and gave it a quick charge. The headphone jack is busted, if I recall correctly, I had already paid to get it fixed once, and then it died a few months later. By that point I was fed up with having it fixed, and replaced it with an iBasso DX80. The electronics in it are still functioning fine; I might give a go at modding it into something I could put to use. Modding iPod classics is a whole scene these days and you can buy custom DIY replacement parts like microSD card readers to replace the harddrive, and there's custom firmware that allows the iPod to support higher capacity storage. Modding it shouldn't be too difficult and wouldn't even require much soldering. I'd replace the headphone jack, pull the 160GB HDD and replace it with a dual or quad microSD card reader and cram as many 512GB/1TB microSD cards it can take, and replace the battery with a higher capacity one. I stream my music collection from my media server to my phone via PlexAmp these days, but it would be cool to have an offline option, or something I can just leave permanently plugged into the Aux port of my stereo. My dad says he's got a 120GB model that half works floating around too, maybe I'll mod both of them.

There were a few other neat things in that second box like playbills from when I used to attend the opera. Which is yet another thing I used to be able to do and now miss terribly. That double feature of Bluebeard and Erwartung was phenomenal.

There was also a copy from one of the godawful and glossy annual "All About Sex" supplements the University newspaper published. I won't share pictures of that because there are a lot of half-naked semi acquaintances in there, but be assured, it's godawful.

In a third box I found approximately half of my physical PC game collection:

Check out that copy of X-Wing on 3.5" floppies and the sticker advising Windows and Pentium users that this is a DOS game. That's the very first PC game I ever got as a kid, received it as a present for Christmas '95. What you see there is less than half of what I know for a fact that I own on CD-ROM. Just off the top of my head I know I have physical copies of Half-Life, Red Alert 2, Tiberian Sun, Dune 2000, Emperor: Battle for Dune, Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri, Sid Meier's Civilization, Total Annihilation, Unreal Tournament, Star Wars Dark Forces II: Jedi Knight, Mechwarrior 4, Star Trek: Bridge Commander, Doom 3, Medal of Honor: Allied Assault, Thief 2: the Metal Age, Deus Ex and most of those games' attendant expansion packs. I didn't find any of them while clearing out the closet, which means that they're almost definitely up in the attic above the garage, along with the sci-fi and fantasy novels I had from adolescence which I didn't take with me when I moved. Getting up into that attic is a pain in the ass though, and it's cramped and stuffy once you're up there. Maybe next time I visit my parents I can put aside a day to go up there and locate everything. I'd really have to be feeling up to it though. I'm pretty sure my hardback copy of Good Omens is up there, as is my copy of Neuromancer, and the Black Company omnibuses. None of which I've read in years.

The only other things of note were a bunch of pewter figurines of wizards I had for unknown reasons and a few nice and largely unused (with the exception of a few pages that I must have torn out years ago) notebooks that I can put to good use.

Actually, I just figured out the reason I owned these and hung onto them. It's because they're rad as hell. Wizards rule.

[lopposting]

Korea Game awards Game Director interview transcription <Lies of P>

Source (KR)

Hey so, I went through some Korea Game Awards stuff. It looks like there was a lot of content recorded for the event, but it doesn't really seem available online. I did find this interview with the director uploaded by a ruliweb user. It ended up being more of talk related to the industry and not all that related to LoP, but I figured I might as well share it since and I had gone through it anyway [and who knows, this could all be lost media one day!].

On LOP winning GOTY - South Korea

The Metacritic score was honestly higher than he expected

Talk about expanding the console games industry in Korea. Again, in South Korea - a leading world of PC Bangs and E-Sports, MMORPGs reign supreme! [Reading around the k-net supposedly LoP is notably one of the first major south korean developed single-player console title? I want to write about this more]

Influenced by other console, single player titles like Naughty Dog's Uncharted Series. [me: I love you, NG's The Last of Us.]

I'm pretty sure that based on his answers he will continue to spearhead the Lies of P IP

Send me an Inbox if you have a correction or see possible error/clarification needed!

[The "footage" doesn't seem available so it's a little hard for me because we can't hear the phrasing, so it's my best guess]

[VERY ROUGH TRANS]

ENG

Hello, nice to meet you, I am Choi Ji-won, general director of Lies of P [Jiwon Choi]

What games have you participated in developing so far? Asker Online, and just recently I was in charge of Lost Ark. [note: MMORPG and he did combat direction]

What do you think are the virtues of a good developer?

Above all, I think it's being clear and unwavering in direction

To what extent have I achieved compared to my goal? I think I've achieved about 80% of it.

I think the remaining 20% area

I want to at least overcome that level of fun I had, and the remaining area is one where the goal is to explore new fun

To do that, you have to put in a lot of effort, enjoy the game a lot, and talk a lot with your fellow development colleagues to achieve the fun you want

I want to get into that zone This is really honest

What advice can you give to juniors who want to become developers? Above all, you must become a gamer 'Does that fun really move you?' And do you want to give this feeling to yourself by becoming a developer?' I would like to take this opportunity to tell you once again that it is more important than anything to make an effort just to have fun

Why did you become a game developer? I've been a console game fanatic since I was young So, while enjoying famous masterpieces in console games, I also want to create a game that can provide this kind of fun I think it would be The Uncharted Series at that time I think I was able to analyze why this was fun while playing So I decided to become that kind of developer

What do you think about the Metascore rating results? [note: I'm assuming they're talking about the metacritic score, which is a critic aggregate (Lies of P currently sits at an 80)]

I'll be really honest about this too I thought it was a better score than the score I received. [Note: This is what he says, but I think what he means is "It was a better score than the one what I was expecting"] When I saw the evaluations of the metascore I realized I was only thinking about a small aspect and thought, 'I was [too] focused on the completion of just this area' But now, 'I need to think about a broader field and focus on it again.' It was that kind of experience

What is your ultimate goal as a developer?

Rather than being a developer who receives positive reviews from users, I actually want to remain as a developer who has a positive influence on other fellow developers in the field I hope to become someone who can serve as an opportunity to further improve and develop the development culture and development capabilities of our country's game industry

How do you feel when you receive positive and negative feedback?

(If you think positively) Thank you But I think we should never be satisfied with that (When receiving negative feedback) More and more, there were instances of reflection from a gamer's perspective like ‘Okay. I should have been more in his shoes.’

Any last words you would like to say? I don't think this award is ever meant for me I think this is an award given to everyone on the team I will take this as a sign to work even harder in the future We will continue to do our best to become a developer that can provide only fun and emotion

KOR

안녕하세요 반갑습니다 <> 총괄 디렉터 최지원 입니다

Q: 그동안 개발에 참여하신 게임은 ?

<애스커 온라인>, 직전엔 <로스트아크> 프로젝트를 담당했습니다

Q: 좋은 개발자의 덕목은 무엇이라고 생각하시나요?

무엇보다 뚜렷하고, 흔들리지 않는

방향성을 제시하는 것이라고 생각합니다

Q: 내 목표정에 비해 어는 정도까지 달성했나요?

약 80% 정도는 달성했다고 생각을 해요

남은 20% 영역

본인이 느꼈던 그 재미 이상을 넘어서

새로운 재미를 추구할 수 있는 영역이라고 생각을 합니다

그러려면 정말 노력도 많이 해야 되고

게임도 많이 즐겨야 되고

같은 개발 동료분들과도

원하는 재미를 정말 많이 한 방향이 되도록

대화도 많이 해야 되거든요

저는 그 영역에 도달하고 싶습니다

이게 정말 솔직한 겁니다

Q: 개발자가 되고 싶은 후배들에게 해줄 수 있는 조언은?

무엇보다 게이머가 되어야 됩니다

그 재미를 통해서 본인에게 정말 감동이 되는가?'

그리고 이 감동을 본인도 개발자가 돼서 선사하고 싶은가?'

진짜 재미만을 위해서 노력하는 게

무엇보다 중요하다는 것,

다시 한번 이 자리를 빌려서 말씀드리고 싶습니다

Q: 게임 개발자가된 계기?

저는 어렸을 적부터 콘솔 게임 덕후였습니다

그래서 콘솔 게임에서 유명한 명작들을 즐기면서

나도 꼭 이런 재미를 줄 수 있는 게임을 만들고 싶다

그때는 <언차티드 시리즈>일 것 같아요

플레이하면서 이게 왜 재밌는지를 분석을 할 수 있었던 것 같아요

그래서 그러한 개발자가 되기로 결심을 하게 됐습니다

Q: 메세타스코어 평점결과 에 대해서 어떻게 생각하시나요?

이것도 정말 솔직하게 얘기할게요

받은 점수보다는 더 나은 점수라고 생각을 했었어요

그 메타스코어에 대한 평가 내용들을 봤을 때는

납득이 가더라고요

작은 영역에서만 생각을 했었고

'그 부분에 대한 완성도만 봤었구나...'

근데 이제는 '더욱더 넓은 분야까지도 생각을 하고,

또 정진해야겠다.' 그러한 계기가 됐었습니다

Q: 궁극적인 개발자로서의 목표가 있다면?

유저들에게 좋은 호평을 받는 개발자이기보다는

현업에 있는 다른 동료 개발자들에게

긍정적인 영향을 미치는 개발자로 사실 남고 싶어요

우리나라 게임업계에 대한 개발 문화나

개발력이 더욱더 개선되고 발전하는

그러한 계기가 될 수 있는 사람이 되었으면 좋겠습니다

Q: 긍정적 & 부정적 피드백을 받을때의 기분은?

(긍정적으로 생각해주시면) 감사하죠

하지만 그것으로 만족해서는 절대 안 된다고

생각을 하고 있습니다

(부정적 피드백을 받으면) 더욱더 게이머 입장에서

'아차, 제가 더욱... 더 그분의 입장이 되어야 했었구나'라고

반성을 하는 경우도 많았었습니다

Q: 마지막으로 하고싶으신 말은?

이 상은 결코 저에게 주는 상이 아니라고 생각을 해요

팀 모든 분들에게 주어지는 상이라고 생각을 하고

앞으로도 더욱더 열심히 하라는 뜻으로 받아들이겠습니다

오직 재미와 감동만을 선사할 수 있는

그런 개발자가 되도록

계속 최선을 다하도록 노력하겠습니다

[wa-royal-tea]

Previous | Beginning | Next

(Transcript under the cut - Click Pics for HQ Version!)

@thebrixtons​​​​

Symphony Manor, Holan (11:30am)

*door opens and closes*

Catalina: Alfie? Where are you going?

Alfie: To the palace. I have a meeting with mum and your mama for the investigation.

Catalina: Really? Can I come?

Alfie: I’m sorry, but no. You just got out of the hospital and you need lots of rest to get better. Don’t worry about this and just stay at home, okay?

Catalina: Urgh, fine. Tell me everything when you come home tonight.

Alfie: *chuckles* I wouldn’t miss a thing.

Alfie: I’ll call you when I arrive and when I’m coming home. My phone will be on silent during the meeting so if I didn’t reply to your messages or answer your calls, it wasn’t on purpose.

Catalina: Alright. Drive safe.

Alfie: I will. Rest, okay?

Alfie: Bye, I love you.

Catalina: I love you too.

The Wind Palace, Ahtolia (12:00pm)

Insp. Nafis:—is still under observation at the moment and—

*door opens and closes*

Alfie: Sorry for being late everyone.

Sofia: It’s fine. Take a seat. Nafis was just getting started. Please continue.

Insp. Nafis: Yes, ma’am. As I was saying, the perpetrator is currently under police custody and her weapons has been retrieved. We’ve identified the attacker as Keira Johnson.

Darien: Keira Johnson? Isn’t she the one who saved Alfie during the kidnapping?

Insp. Nafis: Yes, sir. She was involved in the kidnapping but had a changed of heart when the other kidnappers revealed that they were planning to kill the infant Crown Prince back then.

Sofia: How is she still alive? I thought all of the kidnappers were hung after they got charged for the war crimes?

Mary: If I recall clearly, Miss Johnson got a lighter sentence because she helped with Alfie’s rescue and the investigation. She was sentenced to twenty six years in jail instead of the death sentence and life imprisonment.

Insp. Nafis: Yes. And Miss Johnson was released a few months ago for good behaviour. The prison guard said that after she left the prison, she was taken away and was never seen again. That is until the night of the banquet.

Sofia: I see. Alfie, did Miss Johnson say anything to you when she met you that night?

Alfie: Not much. She just said that she lost everything because of me and that she regretted saving me. I have no idea what she meant but she was determined to take me out that night.

Darien: Do you have any more info about her? Her background maybe? Any families?

Insp. Nafis: Her background info is a bit scarce. I did however, find out that she had a husband and a baby before she was put behind bars years ago.

Insp. Nafis: According to my findings, her husband divorced her after she was sentenced and took their child away from her. My sources say that her husband never let their child meet with her.

Insp. Nafis: Five years after the divorce and imprisonment, her husband died in an accident and their child went into foster care and was never heard of again.

Sofia: Could it be that she was resentful that her family got broken up after saving Alfie?

Darien: It would make sense. I can’t imagine saving someone’s kid and still getting put behind bars after doing the right thing. I’d be angry too if I were her.

Edward: But no one forced her to join the kidnapping mission. She did that at her own discretion. It is still a crime, Darien.

Darien: I know that. But I can’t help but feel sorry for her.

Mary: I feel sorry for her too. But a crime is a crime. There’s no excuse for that.

Sofia: They’re right, honey. She almost got Alfie killed. Twice.

Darien: *sighs* I know.

Mary: Has she met with her child after she got out?

Insp. Nafis: Like I said earlier, they lost track of the child after she got into foster care. She tried looking for her even before she got out but to no avail. Until...

Sofia: Until what?

Insp. Nafis: Until recently when we dug deeper into the family’s information and found the couple who adopted her child.

Darien: Well?

Sofia: Come on, tell us. What did you find?

Nafis: Well, uh, I think you should see this for yourself, ma’am.

Sofia: Alright, please give me the paper then.

Sofia: *gasps* Rowena? Rowena is her daughter?

Alfie: Wait, what? Let me see!

Insp. Nafis: Yes, ma’am. She was adopted by a Windasian couple at age six. The reason why they lost track of her is because they changed her first and last name.

Darien: Oh god. This is a lot to take in.

Sofia: Do you think she has anything to do with how Miss Johnson got inside the palace? Maybe it was her who gave the invitation and the weapons to her since she works on the inside.

Insp. Nafis: I’m not sure, ma’am. We’ll be interrogating her tomorrow. There are chances that she doesn’t even know what’s going on.

Edward: But what if she does?

Insp. Nafis: Then we’ll make sure she doesn’t get away with it. If she is involved with this somehow, her testimony against Miss Nizam will also be reevaluated. She could probably be the person sabotaging the tour for revenge.

Insp. Nafis: As of now, I would suggest for your majesty to suspend Miss Rowena Johnson from her duties. At least until the investigation is over.

Sofia: Understood. Thank you, Nafis. Please keep us updated.

Insp. Nafis: Yes, ma’am.

[monstersinthecosmos]

September 16, 1973

Somewhere in the middle of Louisiana Daniel wonders if he should publish the transcript. Maybe it’s actually a manuscript. 

His producer at the station used to tell him to put the interviews in print. He knew a guy in New York, gave Daniel his card. Daniel watches as the landscape becomes lush and green and overgrown and thinks all the way to his apartment in San Francisco, and can picture where the card was pinned to his bulletin board over his desk. 

The idea had intimidated him before. Seemed like too much work. Spinning all these interviews into narratives, tinkering with them, moving around the pieces and parts of text until they made sense. A little more work than he felt like doing.

There’s no real clear path forward; he thinks ahead to New Orleans, to Lestat. Unsure what he’ll be like, how he’ll respond. If he’ll attack, the way Louis did. Unsure if he’ll survive it.

And maybe a book would be the collateral he could leave. Or some message, so that people remember him. Connie, and Jeff, and his cousin, and his mom. 

He pulls off the highway at the next gas station he sees. Ain’t No Grave playing from a tinny radio in the garage. He buys smokes and tops off his tank while he has the opportunity but really stopped for the payphone. He flips through the phone book; close enough to New Orleans that he can look up some hotels. He tries to pick one that doesn’t sound fancy and calls ahead to ask about their vacancy, asks them to hold a room for tonight. 

The voice on the line is disinterested, but they help him. He lights a cigarette as he hangs up, as he fishes more change from his pocket to makes another call.

Heart racing as he listens to the line ring. He turns to watch his car, making sure it’s still there, that his tapes and the transcript are safe.

And his producer isn’t there yet for the day. Early still in California, but he knows the kid who answers the phone. Enough for a friendly “Hey, it’s Molloy,” but not too friendly to have to field questions about where he disappeared to. Unsure if anyone’s noticed. 

“Can you ask Mel to give me a call?” 

Can you ask him to leave a message at my hotel, this is the number, can he leave me the info for that publisher he knows? Thanks man.

He’s sweating as he hangs up. And his stomach churns but he isn’t sure if it’s hunger or nerves, but he wants to keep going.

Late afternoon when he finally hits the city limits. Part of him wants to pull over and throw up, but he breathes through it. Opens the window for all the humidity to spill into the car. He tries to catch his breath but feels like he’s drowning in the heat.

Louis’s hands had been so cold. So, so cold. It must have been so visceral, meeting vampires down here. Such a balm to the oppressive warmth.

There’s a message waiting for him when he gets to the hotel. He can’t tell if the person at the desk is the one he spoke to on the phone; just as deadpan and sick of their job, but they hand the note over. The number and address for Mel’s guy. Daniel taps his foot as they grab his key for him, anxious to run up to the room and work up a cover letter.

And tomorrow he can mail it, and he can start looking up property records, try to figure out which house it is. He’s shaking again as he takes the key and heads for the elevator, but it’s excitement this time, not the panic that’s been haunting him since that night.

Tapes in the dresser drawer, typewriter on the breakfast table. He opens the window and breathes the humidity. Feels it on his skin, like the city can touch. Steamy and charged. 

Sort of erotic.

Lestat it out there, he thinks, gazing out over the rooftops. Sky turning pink with twilight; Daniel wonders if Lestat still wakes at night. Is he under there, awake and suffering, aware of the time passing? Or does he sleep?

I’m here, Daniel thinks. He projects it out into the city, wondering if Lestat will hear him. 

He turns back to the room. Grabs his bag from the drawer, sets the tape player on top of the dresser. He’s not sure which tape he grabs, just the first one his hand reaches, but he slips it inside and press the play button. 

Louis’s voice trills through his nerves. Frightening and soothing at the same time, vivid reminder that it was real. And Lestat is out here, somewhere. Somewhere close.

“…this vampire opened his arms, his back to the flickering footlights, his auburn hair seeming to tremble as the gold of her hair fell around his black coat,” Louis says from the speaker. Daniel swallows hard. “ ‘No pain… no pain…’ he was whispering to her, and she was giving herself over.”

His hands run through his hair. His neck cracks. His thumbnail digs into the edge of the scab on his neck, harder and harder to pick every day, but he still gets the stab of adrenaline from attempting.

The pain is warm, though. Pleasant as it bathes over him, shooting to his fingertips and his nipples and his cock. He turns back to the window and presses his forehead to the glass, rubbing a hand over his chest, wondering if Lestat will hurt him.

Not just like Louis did; he wonders what happens if Lestat doesn’t stop. Imagines the teeth in his throat, and how it would feel if he drank, and drank, and drank…

“He lifted her off the boards as he drank, her throat gleaming against his white cheek. I felt weak, dazed, hunger rising in me, knotting my heart, my veins. I felt my hand gripping the brass bar of the box, tighter, until I could feel the metal creaking in its joints.”

Or, what if it were gentle? If there were no pain. He shudders. 

And sex has been the last thing on his mind since he left San Francisco, but his cock throbs in his pants. He stares out, over the other buildings, down to the street, to the cars passing by, and breaks out in goosebumps when he remembers Louis’s age. Here before all of this. 

He unzips his jeans, wraps his hand around his cock. Imagines the cold hands on him.

Here before all these buildings, and the paved roads, the traffic lights. Before cars, before electricity. He wonders when this part of the city was built, wonders if it was just swampland back then. 

And, god. Armand, too. He had been in New Orleans with Louis. What a sight they must have been together. Daniel wonders if Armand might be here still, too. Wonders where he is. What he’s seen. He shakes, and spits down into his hand, strokes himself harder. 

A couple is shouting, down on the sidewalk. Tires screech from a block away. He wonders how much worse the charge was, in the air, way back then, with nothing but wilderness to swallow you. 

“I was sitting back in the chair, my mouth full of the taste of her, my veins in torment. And in the corner of my eyes was that auburn-haired vampire who had conquered her, standing apart as he had been before, his dark eyes seeming to pick me from the darkness, seeming to fix on me over the currents of warm air.”

I’m here, Lestat, he thinks. Sun almost down now, streetlights glowing. Sky electric purple. 

“But there he was, soundless,” Louis says. Daniel whines, without meaning to. His free hand slips on the window frame, nails scratching against the wood. And, fuck. Fuck. The view in front of him blurs as he stares out at the horizon, gasping for the warm air, feeling the humidity on his skin again as the orgasms crests. “…beyond the curtained entrance of the box, that vampire with the auburn hair, that detached one; standing on the carpeted stairway looking at us.”

His hand twists around his shaft, pumping himself through it, painting the window with his release. 

“He would have startled me, except for his stillness,” Louis says. Daniel tastes blood in his mouth. He  covers up the wound with his other hand. 

“…the remote dreamy quality of his expression.”

“Had he not so completely absorbed me—“

“—as if his calm were drawing off my trepidation—“

Daniel’s heart thuds in his ears. Everything electrified, and he can’t tell if it’s the orgasm or the fear. Not sure it matters as he tries to catch his breath. 

I cannot exaggerate this quality in him.

Fuck.

[previous day] | [next day]

[showfallmanagement]

[ This post was made using Showfall Media Video-To-Text--now with employee-differentiating color-coding technology! If you believe there's been an error and would like to end Showfall Media Video-To-Text, please say 'End transcript' or turn your recording device off. 

[The footage opens on a shot of a long hallway, tiled floors reflecting not just the fluorescent lights from overhead but small dots of multicolored lights hung up along the walls in garlands. A Taskmanager idles at the edge of the corridor, static hum emanating quietly from its head as Manager#0 walks briskly past, offering it a nod and then continuing on, whistling as he does.]

[His pace slows abruptly as the sound of someone laughing is registered, then quickens with a slight gasp as he rounds the corner and the Hetch stands in the hallway a few yards away, laughing as they exit an office room labeled “PR”.]

[Hetch turns as the door closes, and their laughter is cut off once they make eye contact with Manager#0. They go still, their eyes flicking around.]

Manager#0: Oh- Oh, hey!! Mr. Hetch!! [He laughs slightly as he approaches them, reaching up to their glasses to adjust them.] Funny bumping into you here. What’s, uh, the haps?

Hetch: … Not … Much? [Their tone is awkward.] What’s up with. You?

Manager#0: Oh, you know. Spreading holiday cheer and all that. Nothing much. [Slight laugh.] I’m here for top secret reasons. Secret Santa reasons. Figured I’d get dressed up for the occasion, too! What do you think of the hat?

Hetch: Very red. Is. Is it supposed to be that far forward? 

[Almost immediately, something red obscures the camera for a brief moment before falling past it and hitting the floor with a thud. The camera pans down to follow it, a Santa hat lying in a sad heap on the floor.]

Manager#0: …No, it, uh. Wasn’t.

[As he picks it up and re-affixes it to somewhere above the camera, his gaze flicks over to the office.]

Manager#0: So, uhhh… What about you? Just checking in on PR?

Hetch: No, I. I got bored. And someone signed me up for your. Thing. 

Manager#0: [Laughter.] Oh, that’s so funny! I wonder who did that. Hahaha. Ha. 

[There’s a pause, for about 5 seconds.]

Hetch: …Well. I’m. Done here, so I will be going back to my office. 

[Hetch begins to walk away, past him, down the hallway. Manager#0’s gaze lingers on them, staring after for a moment before glancing between them, the PR office, and the very small rectangular present in his hand before hastily setting it down by the door and then spinning around to follow them.]

[Hetch pauses, looking back at him.]

Hetch: Okay, what are you doing?

Manager#0: Uh. Well. My office is in the same direction, so…!!

[Another pause for about 3 seconds.]

Manager#0: Can I walk back with you please.

[Hetch’s hand presses against their mask’s forehead for a second as they sigh, before letting go.]

Hetch: If you must. Come on.

[Manager#0 pauses for a moment before making a very quiet, very brief squeak noise and quickly trotting to catch up with them.]

Manager#0: So!! Who do you think got you in the Secret Santa? Could be anyone. Really. 

Hetch: Not anyone. Technically.

[A beat of silence.]

Hetch: What are you holding?

Manager#0: …Who, me?

[They are still alone in the hallway.]

Hetch: They didn’t blind you, right? Yes, you. What do you have?

Manager#0: I mean. What does anyone have, these days? Really? If you, uh, think about it? Uhm. [Sigh.] Okay, there was a minor slip-up with the Secret Santa and I accidentally left in an employee who is… no longer available. So… I’m in charge of making sure the person they got still gets something.

Hetch: Ah. That makes enough sense.

Manager#0: [Seems to let out a breath of air he was holding.] I thought so too. 

[There’s silence for a few seconds. Manager#0 tips his head to the Taskmanager as he passes by again.]

Manager#0: What do you think of our new Security measures? [He grins audibly.] Mr. CEO says I’m at the forefront of the anti-rebellion effort. 

Hetch: [They sneer a little.] That man. I don’t like him. Reminds me too much of some people I’ve known near the end of their lives.

Manager#0: [The grin audibly fades.] Oh.

[The sound of footsteps on tiling for about 6 seconds.]

Manager#0: Uhhh. You’ll be happy to know I’m actually doing it, though! My, uh, job. A couple weeks ago I even actually fired someone!! I don’t know if you heard, but HR told me I did a pretty great job. 

Hetch: I wasn’t paying attention. [They visibly shudder.] Not here, anyways. Why should I?

Manager#0: Uh, well, maybe because it’s really, uh. Cool…? I. I thought so. 

Hetch: Cool? … If you think so.

Manager#0: W- Y- Really??

Hetch: Yeah, sure.

[They continue on in silence for a moment.]

Manager#0: I really showed them, too. What the consequences are for disobeying the company, I mean. Metal sticking out of my hands? Pff. No issue. You shoulda seen the other guy, haha. Y’know? 

[Hetch glances down briefly at Manager#0’s hands, squinting before looking ahead again.]

Manager#0: …Err, of- of course they, uh, fixed them. That. It’s only meant to be temporary. Which, well, you wouldn’t think, from. Y’know. The metal apparently embedded in your skin suddenly breaking out of it and tearing up said, uh, skin, in the process, but. You know HR and their exploits. They patched me up alright. 

Hetch: …Sounds uncomfortable.

Manager#0: It wasn’t so bad. Other than… for typing. But other than that. Helped get the job done, at the end of the day, so I’m not too worried about it, haha. 

[The two of them pause as they come to an elevator door, which slides open as soon as Manager#0 presses the button and shut a few seconds after they’ve both gotten on. He pauses before the buttons on the inside for a moment, labelled for the floors three through basement respectively, before hitting the one for the first floor.]

Manager#0: I’m starting to think maybe it was meant to be permanent, though. Maybe. HR… maybe I’m reading into things too far. But they seemed a bit bothered. So… Oh, actually, I was wondering if maybe I’m a bit like… you?

[Hetch coughs loudly, having choked on their own breath. They take a moment to recover before speaking.]

Hetch: There’s no one ‘like me,’ Manager. I’d thank you to never bring. That. Assumption. Up again, yes?

Manager#0: Well- I- I just- [They inhale, and then exhale, somewhat shakily.] I’m sorry, sir, I just, uh. When I was trying to stop that escaped Editor, I- I was… injured. I let my guard down, which was stupid. But by the time I got back to my office! Completely gone! No bullet wound to speak of. And, uh. While I’m not entirely aware of what’s going on with your… uh… 

Hetch: [Angrily.] Condition?

[The elevator doors open. Hetch immediately steps out of it and begins walking away, noticeably quicker than before. Their footsteps are heavier. Manager#0 just idles in the elevator for a moment, noticeably still, before slowly beginning to follow after.]

Manager#0: I’m- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I didn’t mean- I just wasn’t sure what to make of it. I don’t really know what they did to me, y’know, you’re not supposed to, it- ruins the, uh, magic, I- I guess?? And- And- I just wanted- I know I’m not supposed to pry, I’m sorry. 

Hetch: Magic? There’s nothing. Magical. About this. As for prying. If you know you’re not supposed to pry. [They stop for a brief second, pointing harshly at Manager#0.] Then why. Did you?

Manager#0: [The camera lowers slightly, like it’s shrinking in on itself, even as it continues to follow along behind them. The speed falters.] I’m sorry, sir, I just- in- in all honesty I just thought- maybe- maybe this is a good thing, right? Like- you’re- you’ve always seemed sort of, uh. Lonely? So maybe if there was someone else-

Hetch: Better alone than with you. Clearly, you can’t understand this. I have always been alone and I prefer. It. That way. Clearly.

[There’s a pause, like the hallway itself is holding a breath. Hetch comes to a specific door, and the camera stops in its tracks a few feet away from them.]

Manager#0: Well- Well clearly, making it this impossible for anyone to even want to be around you isn’t exactly doing you any favors, is it?

Hetch: … No. It’s not. [They open the door to their office, stepping inside and quickly turning around to face him. They reach for the door as their eyes narrow.]

Manager#0: Wait- Wait, I’m- I didn’t mean-

Hetch: Too late.

[With those words, Hetch slams the door shut, the lock quickly shuttering loud enough to be heard afterwards. With no windows, that’s the last that is seen of them.]

[He doesn’t move to knock, or say anything else. Instead, very quietly, he takes the object that’s been in his hand–a small, vaguely cylindrical present wrapped in shiny red paper–and places it next to the door. Noticeably, his hands are shaking.]

[Manager#0 backs up a few paces, gaze lingering on the door as if attempting to admire his work, before turning around and beginning to slink away. The hand that was previously holding the present goes up to somewhere past the camera and pulls away the hat from earlier in a red clump and lets the arm fall loosely to his side, while the other reaches for the camera.]

Transcript has been ended. Thank you for using Showfall Media Video-To-Text! Posting... ]

[skygodtraumabond]

<A video file is attached! Let me provide a transcript!>

<The video opens with Ray sitting on a patch of grass beside a stone path attempting to write a letter, a package by their side. Despite the robe and cargo pants covering most of their body, they are visibly covered in gauze from head to toe. Their hand seems stiff and painful, but they still try regardless. Scorch is by their side, looking on in concern, but still providing a source of warmth for them.

Inches from the camera, Marny whizzes by on her roller skates. As the camera zooms out, it reveals Marny skating in circles, seemingly deep in thought. Chatot is on her shoulder fanning his wings in time with her strides. Honedge is wrapped around her waist, swaying slightly in the breeze.

Marny: ... Okay, well, people seem to think I'm a vampire now. Maybe we could work with that? What can I do with vampires in July?

Elodie: Marny, I think you should maybe take a break for a few days before—

Marny: Oh, garlic! Maybe I could do... Something with the garlic? I don't know. Ray, any ideas? I'm not getting any help from the peanut gallery over here.

Marny slows her circuit, rolling in front of Ray backwards as they look up from their letter. They tap their bruised throat in response, trying to remind Marny of their predicament. She just rolls her eyes.

Marny: Yes, I know, and I'm sorry. Next time I get dunked in the wild animal juice I'll try to act less like a wild animal. Now, what about that vampire thing, huh? You're a smart guy, I know you've gotta have ideas in that big ol brain of yours.

She pats Ray on the head, earning her a slight frown and a gentle dusting of blush over their cheeks. As she leans further over them, she catches a glimpse of the letter and visibly cringes.

Marny: Oh. Wow, Ray. Your handwriting is questionable on the best of days, but... Yeah, this is next level—yes I know it's because I bit your hand stop giving me that look.

She sighs and sits down in their lap taking the pencil out of their hand as they're frozen and beet red. She then takes the paper, tapping the pencil to her chin.

Marny: Hmm... Well, I helped you pick the gifts. I guess I can help you with the letter too. Free of charge! Since you're my sad, injured little booboo bear. Besides, maybe writing from your perspective will give me some new ideas... If you put battle ideas in my brain I will bite you again.

Ray sighs and rests their head on Marny's, growling quietly. This earns them a playful scoff and a gentle swat on the nose.

Marny: That's a weird thing to ask, you weirdo. What's wrong with you? Hmm... Maybe I will let you bite me back later, though. As a treat.

As Marny settles into their lap, they quiet down and melt into her, the ghost of a smile on their lips as the letter is continued under a new hand. The video then ends.>

<This transcript was provided by me, Techie! I'm a Rotom, so I might make mistakes! Let me know if I did a good job! :> >

[cookinguptales]

You know... this really will be my last word on the whole accessibility debacle, but I was thinking this morning about ASL interpreting.

Now, I'll preface all this by saying that, while I do have hearing troubles and sign at home with my family, my hearing issues are only mild compared to the profound deafness that runs in my family. So while I've spent a fair amount of time around interpreters, I do not need to use them for my daily life.

Still. The reason I actually want to talk about sign language interpreters is because I think a lot of hearing folks don't know how one is hired.

Here's the thing -- like 99% of the time, Deaf people do not hire their own interpreters. In fact, most certified interpreters will refuse if a Deaf person attempts to hire them directly.

According to the ADA, it is the business's responsibility to find, hire, and pay for an interpreter. It is not the Deaf person's job to do the research. It is not the Deaf person's job to find an adequate interpreter. It is not the Deaf person's job to pay for it.

And this is a line that ASL interpreters will hold.

Why? Because of the precedent it will set. It is well understood that if disabled people (and/or Deaf; not all Deaf people ID as disabled, though some do) need to expend extra work, effort, and resources to get access to their legally required accommodations, that is still not equal access.

If I need to do hours of research to figure out how to get access to the same building as my fellow students for a class trip, I am being discriminated against because my fellow students don't have to spend their free time doing this; they can use that time to study and/or work. If I need to go in circles with a venue because the performers being paid don't know and don't care to know whether their venue is accessible, I am being discriminated against. Other paying customers do not face this barrier.

(And when I have gone through venues, I have had waiting periods of up to three months to get an answer, by which time shows have often passed -- and that's if they answer at all. They answer performers; they do not always answer guests.)

If podcasts charge extra for transcripts (I am looking at you, You Must Remember This), that is discriminatory and illegal because it is placing the burden of accessible accommodations on the people who need them. And that means many marginalized people will not get those accommodations. It's just that simple.

Guys, this is important. My family has struggled with doctors who refuse to provide interpreters. My family has struggled with mental health professionals who refuse to provide interpreters. My family has struggled with police who refuse to provide interpreters when responding to distress calls.

This places my family in acute physical danger.

It's easy for people to dismiss a post about accessibility issues for a live podcast recording. It's entertainment, it's not a life or death situation. It's easy to send me -- god, so many messages about how it's my job to take hours out of my day to fight with a venue instead of expecting the performers to do that labor for their disabled fans. But ASL interpreters know this: it's about the precedent.

It's not always going to be entertainment. Next time it could be a doctor's office. It could be a school. It could be an emergency. And when you expect disabled people to be 100% responsible for their own accommodations, that just dissuades people from getting them. Which is a form of systemic discrimination.

Because here's a fun fact: businesses rely on disabled people being too sick or too shy or too nice or too jaded to demand accommodations. The ADA doesn't have, like, inspectors who go around making sure places are accessible. The ADA forces disabled people to find and sue the people who are discriminating against them, and many businesses depend on the fact that this is difficult, time consuming, and intimidating.

(And boy, could I write an entire fucking post about how my university used this tactic on me to try and keep me from demanding accommodations -- is equal access to education sexier than me wanting to go to a live show?)

A lot of people have accused me of being lazy, of being entitled, of being ignorant because I contacted the podcasters rather than just the venue. Of course I know it's easier to go that route, though as the podcasters themselves found out, not always very effective.

(Venues are often uncommunicative if you aren't the one who booked the show. 🙃)

But seriously -- you think emailing a venue and waiting wouldn't have been easier than fielding harassment on this website for two fucking weeks straight? That it wouldn't have been easier than writing thousands of words explaining my position, only to have those words ignored by people who are just going to send the same criticism ten more times?

The way I went about this issue was much, much harder than all the times I've stayed quiet. Because I assure you -- this is not my first fucking inaccessible show. And I almost always deal with being discriminated against quietly.

But fuck, guys. Disabled people know: it is always about the principle of the matter. It is always about the precedent. Because these are not rights that we can allow to erode at all. Because next time, it will be a doctor we're expected to devise our own accommodations for. It'll be a school. It'll be the police.

And sometimes doing the right thing is more important than the easy thing.

I am very pleased that these podcasters realized that they were not going about things the right way and have committed to doing better in the future. I am very disappointed in their fans who are still sending me messages. And uh. Yeah, I hope this one last post on the subject will help the last few stragglers understand where I am coming from with this.

(Note: I am not going to debate this, my rights, or my responsibilities any further. Going forward, I'm going to use my block button liberally. Thanks for your time and consideration.)